The Call of the Cumberlands

Horton stood silently studying the mountaineer.

"Good God!" he exclaimed at last. "And you are the man I undertook to

criticize!"

"You ain't answered my question," suggested Samson South.

"South, if you are willing to shake hands with me, I shall be

grateful. I may as well admit that, if you had thrashed me before that

crowd, you could hardly have succeeded in making me feel smaller. I

have played into their hands. I have been a damned fool. I have riddled

my own self-respect--and, if you can afford to accept my apologies and

my hand, I am offering you both."

"I'm right glad to hear that," said the mountain boy, gravely. "I told

you I'd just as lief shake hand as fight.... But just now I've got to

go to the telephone."

The booth was in the same room, and, as Horton waited, he recognized

the number for which Samson was calling. Wilfred's face once more

flushed with the old prejudice. Could it be that Samson meant to tell

Adrienne Lescott what had transpired? Was he, after all, the braggart

who boasted of his fights? And, if not, was it Samson's custom to call

her up every evening for a good-night message? He turned and went into

the hall, but, after a few minutes, returned.

"I'm glad you liked the show...." the mountaineer was saying. "No,

nothing special is happening here--except that the ducks are

plentiful.... Yes, I like it fine.... Mr. Horton's here. Wait a minute

--I guess maybe he'd like to talk to you."

The Kentuckian beckoned to Horton, and, as he surrendered the

receiver, left the room. He was thinking with a smile of the

unconscious humor with which the girl's voice had just come across the

wire: "I knew that, if you two met each other, you would become friends."

"I reckon," said Samson, ruefully, when Horton joined him, "we'd

better look around, and see how bad those fellows are hurt in there.

They may need a doctor." And the two went back to find several startled

servants assisting to their beds the disabled combatants, and the next

morning their inquiries elicited the information that the gentlemen

were all "able to be about, but were breakfasting in their rooms."

Such as looked from their windows that morning saw an unexpected

climax, when the car of Mr. Wilfred Horton drove away from the club

carrying the man whom they had hoped to see killed, and the man they

had hoped to see kill him. The two appeared to be in excellent spirits

and thoroughly congenial, as the car rolled out of sight, and the

gentlemen who were left behind decided that, in view of the

circumstances, the "extraordinary spree" of last night had best go

unadvertised into ancient history.