The Call of the Cumberlands
Page 175But, again, he crushed her in his arms, and his voice rose triumphantly: "Sally, I have no promises to take back, and you have made none that
I'm ever going to let you take back--not while life lasts!"
Her laugh was the delicious music of happiness. "I don't want to take
them back," she said. Then, suddenly, she added, importantly: "I wear
shoes and stockings now, and I've been to school a little. I'm awfully--
awfully ignorant, Samson, but I've started, and I reckon you can teach
me."
His voice choked. Then, her hands strayed up, and clasped themselves
about his head.
"Oh, Samson," she cried, as though someone had struck her, "you've cut
yore ha'r."
"It will grow again," he laughed. But he wished that he had not had to
Lescott--even about how, after he believed that he had been outcast by
his uncle and herself, he had had his moments of doubt. Now that it was
all so clear, now that there could never be doubt, he wanted the woman
who had been so true a friend to know the girl whom he loved. He loved
them both, but was in love with only one. He wanted to present to Sally
the friend who had made him, and to the friend who had made him the
Sally of whom he was proud. He wanted to tell Adrienne that now he
could answer her question--that each of them meant to the other exactly
the same thing: they were friends of the rarer sort, who had for a
little time been in danger of mistaking their comradeship for passion.
As they talked, sitting on the stile, Sally held the rifle across her
the hills were wrapped in silence--a silence as soft as velvet.
Suddenly, in a pause, there came to the girl's ears the cracking of a
twig in the woods. With the old instinctive training of the mountains,
she leaped noiselessly down, and for an instant stood listening with
intent ears. Then, in a low, tense whisper, as she thrust the gun into
the man's hands, she cautioned: "Git out of sight. Maybe they've done found out ye've come back--maybe
they're trailin' ye!"
With an instant shock, she remembered what mission had brought him
back, and what was his peril; and he, too, for whom the happiness of
the moment had swallowed up other things, came back to a recognition of
facts. Dropping into the old woodcraft, he melted out of sight into the
throwing the rifle forward, and peering into the shadows. As he stood
there, balancing the gun once more in his hands, old instincts began to
stir, old battle hunger to rise, and old realizations of primitive
things to assault him. Then, when they had waited with bated breath
until they were both reassured, he rose and swung the stock to his
shoulder several times. With something like a sigh of contentment, he
said, half to himself: "Hit feels mighty natural ter throw this old rifle-gun up. I reckon
maybe I kin still shoot hit."