Part 21 (1/2)

”Make it soft dull red, Lyn--but not _too_ dull.”

Truedale no longer meant to lay his secret bare before departing for the South. While he would not acknowledge it to his anxious heart, he realized that he must base the future on the outcome of his journey.

Once he laid hands upon Nella-Rose, he would act promptly and hopefully, but--he must be sure, now, before he made a misstep. There had been mistakes enough, heaven knew; he must no longer play the fool.

And then when the little gilded cage was ready, Truedale conceived his big and desperate idea. Two weeks had pa.s.sed since Jim White's letter and no telegram or note had come from Nella-Rose. Neither love nor caution could wait longer. Truedale decided to go to Pine Cone. Not as a returned traveller, certainly not--at first--to White, but to Lone Dome, and there, pa.s.sing himself off as a chance wayfarer, he would gather as much truth as he could, estimate the value of it, and upon it take his future course. In all probability, he thought--and he was almost gay now that he was about to take matters into his own hands--he would ferret out the real facts and be back with his quarry before another week. It was merely a matter of getting the truth and being on the spot.

Nella-Rose's family might, for reasons of their own, have deceived Jim White. Certainly if they did not know at the time of Nella-Rose's whereabouts they would, like others, voice the suspicion of the hills; but by now they would either have her with them or know positively where she was. For all his determination to believe this, Truedale had his moments of sickening doubt. The simple statement in White's letter, burned, as time went on, into his very soul.

But, whatever came--whatever there was to know--he meant to go at once to headquarters. He would remain, too, until Peter Greyson was sober enough to state facts. He recalled clearly Jim's estimate of Greyson and his dual nature depending so largely upon the effect of the mountain whisky.

It was late November when Truedale set forth. No one made any objection to his going now. Things were running smoothly and if he had to go at all to straighten out any loose ends, he had better go at once.

To Lynda the journey seemed simple enough. Truedale had left, among other belongings, his ma.n.u.script and books. Naturally he would not trust them to another's careless handling.

At Was.h.i.+ngton, Truedale bought a rough tramping rig and continued his journey with genuine enjoyment of the adventure. Now that he was nearing the scene of his past experience he could better understand the delay.

Things moved so slowly among the hills and naturally Nella-Rose, trusting and fond, was part of the sluggish life. How she would show her small, white teeth when, smiling in his arms, she told him all about it!

It would not take long to make her forget the weary time of absence and White's misconception.

Truedale proceeded by deliberate stages. He wanted to gather all he possibly could as a foundation upon which to build. The first day after he left the train at the station--and it had b.u.mped at the end of the rails just as it had on his previous trip--he walked to the Centre and there encountered Merrivale.

”Well, stranger,” the old man inquired, ”whar yer goin', if it ain't askin' too much?”

And Truedale expansively explained. He was tramping through the mountains for pure enjoyment; had heard of the hospitality he might expect and meant to test it.

Merrivale was pleased but cautious. He was full of questions himself, but ran to cover every time his visitor ventured one. Truedale soon learned his lesson and absorbed what was offered without openly claiming more. He remained over night with Merrivale and stocked up the next morning from the store.

He had heard much, but little to any purpose. He carried away with him a pretty clear picture of Burke Lawson who, by Merrivale's high favour, appeared heroic. The storm, the search, Lawson's escape and supposed carrying off of Nella-Rose, were the chief topics of conversation.

Merrivale chuckled in delight over this.

The afternoon of the second day Truedale reached Lone Dome and came upon Peter, sober and surprisingly respectable, sunning himself on the west side of the house.

The first glance at the stately old figure, gone to decay like a tree with dead rot, startled and amazed Truedale and he thanked heaven that the master of Lone Dome was himself and therefore to be relied upon; no one could possibly suspect Peter of cunning or deceit in his present condition.

Greyson greeted the stranger cordially. He was in truth desperately forlorn and near the outer edge of endurance. An hour more and he would have defied the powers that had recently taken control of him, and made for the still in the deep woods; but the coming of Truedale saved him from that and diverted his tragic thoughts.

The fact was Marg and Jed had gone away to be married. Owing to the death of the near-by minister in the late storm, they had to travel a considerable distance in order to begin life according to Marg's strict ideas of propriety. Before leaving she had impressed upon her father the necessity of his keeping a clear head in her absence.

”We-all may be gone days, father,” she had said, ”and yo' certainly do drop in owdacious places when you're drunk. Yo' might freeze or starve.

Agin, a lurking beast, hunting fo' food, might chaw yo' fo' yo' got yo'

senses.”

Something of this Greyson explained to his guest while setting forth the evening meal and apologizing for the lack of stimulant.

”Being her marriage trip I let Marg have her way and a mind free o'

worry 'bout me. But women don't understand, G.o.d bless 'em! What's a drop in yo' own home? But fo' she started forth Marg spilled every jug onto the wood pile. When I see the flames extry sparkling I know the reason!”

Greyson chuckled, walking to and fro from table to pantry, with steady, almost dignified strides.