The Call of the Cumberlands

The self-confessed refugee did not at once reply. When he did, it was

to ask: "Is the widder asleep?"

Sally saw from his blood-shot eyes that he had been drinking heavily.

She did not resume her seat, but stood holding him with her eyes. In

them, the man read contempt, and an angry flush mounted to his sallow

cheek-bones.

"I reckon ye knows," went on the girl in the same steady voice, "thet

Samson meant what he said when he warned ye ter stay away from hyar. I

reckon ye knows I wouldn't never hev opened thet door, ef hit wasn't

fer ye bein' in trouble."

The mountaineer straightened up, his eyes burning with the craftiness

of drink, and the smoldering of resentment.

"I reckon I knows thet. Thet's why I said they was atter me. I hain't

in no trouble, Sally. I jest come hyar ter see ye, thet's all."

Now, it was the girl's eyes that flashed anger. With quick steps, she

reached the door, and threw it open. Her hand trembled as she pointed

out into the night, and the gusty winter's breath caught and whipped

her calico skirts about her ankles.

"You kin go!" she ordered, passionately. "Don't ye never cross this

doorstep ag'in. Begone quick!"

But Tamarack only laughed with easy insolence.

"Sally," he drawled. "Thar's a-goin' ter be a dancin' party Christmas

night over ter the Forks. I 'lowed I'd like ter hev ye go over thar

with me."

Her voice was trembling with white-hot indignation.

"Didn't ye hear Samson say ye wasn't never ter speak ter me?"

"Ter hell with Samson!" he ripped out, furiously. "Nobody hain't

pesterin' 'bout him. I don't allow Samson, ner no other man, ter

dictate ter me who I keeps company with. I likes ye, Sally. Ye're the

purtiest gal in the mountings, an'----"

"Will ye git out, or hev I got ter drive ye?" interrupted the girl.

Her face paled, and her lips drew themselves into a taut line.

"Will ye go ter the party with me, Sally?" He came insolently over,

and stood waiting, ignoring her dismissal with the ease of braggart

effrontery. She, in turn, stood rigid, wordless, pointing his way

across the doorstep. Slowly, the drunken face lost its leering grin.

The eyes blackened into a truculent and venomous scowl. He stepped

over, and stood towering above the slight figure, which did not give

back a step before his advance. With an oath, he caught her savagely in

his arms, and crushed her to him, while his unshaven, whiskey-soaked

lips were pressed clingingly against her own indignant ones. Too

astonished for struggle, the girl felt herself grow faint in his

loathsome embrace, while to her ears came his panted words: "I'll show ye. I wants ye, an' I'll git ye."