The Call of the Cumberlands

For a time, the mountain boy watched the figure, and the painter saw

his lips draw into a straight line, and his eyes narrow with a glint of

tense hate. Yet, a moment later, with a nod to follow, the boy

unexpectedly rose into view, and his features were absolutely

expressionless.

"Mornin', Jim," he called.

The slinking stranger whirled with a start, and an instinctive motion

as though to bring his rifle to his shoulder. But, seeing Samson's

peaceable manner, he smiled, and his own demeanor became friendly.

"Mornin', Samson."

"Kinder stranger in this country, hain't ye, Jim?" drawled the boy who

lived there, and the question brought a sullen flush to the other's

cheekbones.

"Jest a-passin' through," he vouchsafed.

"I reckon ye'd find the wagon road more handy," suggested Samson.

"Some folks might 'spicion ye fer stealin' long through the timber."

The skulking traveler decided to lie plausibly. He laughed

mendaciously. "That's the reason, Samson. I was kinder skeered ter go

through this country in the open."

Samson met his eye steadily, and said slowly: "I reckon, Jim, hit moughtn't be half es risky fer ye ter walk

upstandin' along Misery, es ter go a-crouchin'. Ye thinks ye've been a

shadderin' me. I knows jest whar ye've been all the time. Ye lies when

ye talks 'bout passin' through. Ye've done been spyin' hyar, ever since

Jesse Purvy got shot, an' all thet time ye've done been watched yeself.

I reckon hit'll be healthier fer ye ter do yore spyin' from t'other

side of the ridge. I reckon yer allowin' ter git me ef Purvy dies, but

we're watchin' ye."

Jim Asberry's face darkened, but he said nothing. There was nothing to

say. He was discovered in the enemy's country, and must accept the

enemy's terms.

"This hyar time, I lets ye go back," said Samson, "fer the reason thet

I'm tryin' like all hell ter keep this truce. But ye must stay on yore

side, or else ride the roads open. How is Purvy terday?"

"He's mighty porely," replied the other, in a sullen voice.

"All right. Thet's another reason why hit hain't healthy fer ye over

hyar."

The spy turned, and made his way over the mountain.

"Damn him!" muttered Samson, his face twitching, as the other was lost

in the undergrowth. "Some day I'm a-goin' ter git him."

Tamarack Spicer did not at once reappear, and, when one of the Souths

met another in the road, the customary dialogue would be: "Heered

anything of Tamarack?" ... "No, hev you?" ... "No, nary a word."