The Call of the Cumberlands

Samson came forward, and held out his arms. But Sally drew away with a

little shudder, and crouched at the end of the stile.

"What's ther matter, Sally?" he demanded in surprise, and, as he bent

toward her, his eyes lost the strange light she feared, and she laughed

a little nervous laugh, and rose from her seat.

"Nothin' hain't ther matter--now," she said, stanchly.

Lescott and Samson discussed the matter frequently. At times, the boy

was obstinate in his determination to remain; at other times, he gave

way to the yearnings for change and opportunity. But the lure of the

palette and brush possessed him beyond resistance and his taciturnity

melted, when in the painter's company, to a roughly poetic form of

expression.

"Thet sunrise," he announced one morning, setting down his milk-pail

to gaze at the east, "is jest like the sparkle in a gal's eyes when

she's tickled at somethin' ye've said about her. An,' when the sun

sets, hit's like the whole world was a woman blushin'."

The dance on Saturday was to be something more portentous than a mere

frolic. It would be a clan gathering to which the South adherents would

come riding up and down Misery and its tributaries from "nigh abouts"

and "over yon." From forenoon until after midnight, shuffle, jig and

fiddling would hold high, if rough, carnival. But, while the younger

folk abandoned themselves to these diversions, the grayer heads would

gather in more serious conclave. Jesse Purvy had once more beaten back

death, and his mind had probably been devising, during those bed-ridden

days and nights, plans of reprisal. According to current report, Purvy

had announced that his would-be assassin dwelt on Misery, and was

"marked down." So, there were obvious exigencies which the Souths must

prepare to meet. In particular, the clan must thrash out to definite

understanding the demoralizing report that Samson South, their logical

leader, meant to abandon them, at a crisis when war-clouds were

thickening.

The painter had finally resolved to cut the Gordian knot, and leave

the mountains. He had trained on Samson to the last piece all his

artillery of argument. The case was now submitted with the suggestion

that the boy take three months to consider, and that, if he decided

affirmatively, he should notify Lescott in advance of his coming. He

proposed sending Samson a small library of carefully picked books,

which the mountaineer eagerly agreed to devour in the interval.

Lescott consented, however, to remain over Saturday, and go to the

dance, since he was curious to observe what pressure was brought to

bear on the boy, and to have himself a final word of argument after the

kinsmen had spoken.