The Call of the Cumberlands

"These folks 'round hyar sometimes 'lows I hain't much better'n an

idjit because--because I feels that-away. Even Sally"--he caught

himself, then went on doggedly--"even Sally kain't see how a man kin

keer about things like skies and the color of the hills, ner the way

ther sunset splashes the sky clean acrost its aidge, ner how the

sunrise comes outen the dark like a gal a-blushin'. They 'lows thet a

man had ought ter be studyin' 'bout other things."

He paused, and folded his arms, and his strong fingers grasped his

tensed biceps until the knuckles stood out, as he went on:

"I reckon they hain't none of them thet kin hate harder'n me. I reckon

they hain't none of 'em thet is more plumb willin' ter fight them

thet's rightful enemies, an' yit hit 'pears ter me as thet hain't no

reason why a man kain't feel somethin' singin' inside him when Almighty

God builds hills like them"--he swept both hands out in a wide circle--

"an' makes 'em green in summer, an' lets 'em blaze in red an' yaller in

ther fall, an' hangs blue skies over 'em an' makes ther sun shine, an'

at night sprinkles 'em with stars an' a moon like thet!" Again, he

paused, and his eyes seemed to ask the corroboration which they read in

the expression and nod of the stranger from the mysterious outside

world. Then, Samson South spread his hands in a swift gesture of

protest, and his voice hardened in timbre as he went on:

"But these folks hyarabouts kain't understand thet. All they sees in

the laurel on the hillside, an' the big gray rocks an' the green trees,

is breshwood an' timber thet may be hidin' their enemies, or places ter

hide out an' lay-way some other feller. I hain't never seen no other

country. I don't know whether all places is like these hyar mountings

er not, but I knows thet the Lord didn't 'low fer men ter live blind,

not seein' no beauty in nothin'; ner not feelin' nothin' but hate an'

meanness--ner studyin' 'bout nothin' but deviltry. There hain't no

better folks nowhar then my folks, an' thar hain't no meaner folks

nowhar then them damned Hollmans, but thar's times when hit 'pears ter

me thet the Lord Almighty hain't plumb tickled ter death with ther way

things goes hyar along these creeks and coves."

Samson paused, and suddenly the glow died out of his eyes. His

features instantly reshaped themselves into their customary mold of

stoical hardness. It occurred to him that his outburst had been a long

one and strangely out of keeping with his usual taciturnity, and he

wondered what this stranger would think of him.