The Call of the Cumberlands

Wile McCager came to the mill door, as she rode up, and lifted the

sack from her horse.

"Howdy, Sally?" he greeted.

"Tol'able, thank ye," said Sally. "I'm goin' ter get off."

As she entered the great half-lighted room, where the mill stones

creaked on their cumbersome shafts, the hum of discussion sank to

silence. The place was brown with age and dirt, and powdered with a

coarse dusting of meal. The girl nodded to the mountaineers gathered in

conclave, then, turning to the miller she announced: "I'm going to send for Samson."

The statement was at first met with dead silence, then came a rumble

of indignant dissent, but for that the girl was prepared, as she was

prepared for the contemptuous laughter which followed.

"I reckon if Samson was here," she said, dryly, "you all wouldn't

think it was quite so funny."

Old Caleb Wiley spat through his bristling beard, and his voice was a

quavering rumble.

"What we wants is a man. We hain't got no use fer no traitors thet's

too almighty damn busy doin' fancy work ter stand by their kith an' kin."

"That's a lie!" said the girl, scornfully. "There's just one man

living that's smart enough to match Jesse Purvy--an' that one man is

Samson. Samson's got the right to lead the Souths, and he's going to do

it--ef he wants to."

"Sally," Wile McCager spoke, soothingly, "don't go gittin' mad. Caleb

talks hasty. We knows ye used ter be Samson's gal, an' we hain't aimin'

ter hurt yore feelin's. But Samson's done left the mountings. I reckon

ef he wanted ter come back, he'd a-come afore now. Let him stay whar

he's at."

"Whar is he at?" demanded old Caleb Wiley, in a truculent voice.

"That's his business," Sally flashed back, "but I know. All I want to

tell you is this. Don't you make a move till I have time to get word to

him. I tell you, he's got to have his say."

"I reckon we hain't a-goin' ter wait," sneered Caleb, "fer a feller

thet won't let hit be known whar he's a-sojournin' at. Ef ye air so

shore of him, why won't ye tell us whar he is now?"

"That's my business, too." Sally's voice was resolute. "I've got a

letter here--it'll take two days to get to Samson. It'll take him two

or three days more to get here. You've got to wait a week."