The Call of the Cumberlands

"Ye mustn't say things like them, Brother Spencer." Her voice was very

firm and soft. "Unc' Spicer's jest gettin' old, an' es fer me, I wasn't

never better ner happier in my life." It was a lie, but a splendid lie,

and she told herself as well as Brother Spencer that she believed it.

"Samson would come back in a minit ef we sent fer him. He's smart, an'

he's got a right ter l'arnin'! He hain't like us folks; he's a--" She

paused, and groped for the word that Lescott had added to her

vocabulary, which she had half-forgotten. "He's a genius!"

There rose to the lips of the itinerant preacher a sentiment as to how

much more loyalty availeth a man than genius, but, as he looked at the

slender and valiant figure standing in the deep dust of the road, he

left it unuttered.

The girl spent much time after that at the house of old Spicer South,

and her coming seemed to waken him into a fitful return of spirits. His

strength, which had been like the strength of an ox, had gone from him,

and he spent his hours sitting listlessly in a split-bottomed rocker,

which was moved from place to place, following the sunshine.

"I reckon, Unc' Spicer," suggested the girl, on one of her first

visits, "I'd better send fer Samson. Mebby hit mout do ye good ter see

him."

The old man was weakly leaning back in his chair, and his eyes were

vacantly listless; but, at the suggestion, he straightened, and the

ancient fire came again to his face.

"Don't ye do hit," he exclaimed, almost fiercely. "I knows ye means

hit kindly, Sally, but don't ye meddle in my business."

"I--I didn't 'low ter meddle," faltered the girl.

"No, little gal." His voice softened at once into gentleness. "I knows

ye didn't. I didn't mean ter be short-answered with ye neither, but

thar's jest one thing I won't 'low nobody ter do--an' thet's ter send

fer Samson. He knows the road home, an', when he wants ter come, he'll

find the door open, but we hain't a-goin' ter send atter him."

The girl said nothing, and, after awhile, the old man wait on: "I wants ye ter understand me, Sally. Hit hain't that I'm mad with

Samson. God knows, I loves the boy.... I hain't a-blamin' him,

neither...."

He was silent for awhile, and his words came with the weariness of dead

hopes when he began again. "Mebby, I oughtn't ter talk about sech things

with a young gal, but I'm an old man, an' thar hain't no harm in hit....

From the time when I used ter watch you two children go a-trapsin' off

in the woods together atter hickory nuts, thar's been jest one thing

thet I've looked forward to and dreamed about: I wanted ter see ye

married. I 'lowed--" A mistiness quenched the sternness of his gray

eyes. "I 'lowed thet, ef I could see yore children playin' round this

here yard, everything thet's ever gone wrong would be paid fer."