Part 4 (1/2)

”Is it of importance?” I inquired, endeavoring to show an interest in the matter.

”You would hardly think so,” he replied. ”It involves the safety of a woman.” I regarded him with unfeigned astonishment, and he, in turn, looked at me with a face as full of anger and disappointment as I had ever beheld.

”Why, you young rascal!” I exclaimed; ”what do you know of me that you should speak so? For less than nothing I'll give you a strapping and send you to your daddy.”

”You couldn't do me a greater service. He is in heaven.” You may imagine my feelings, if you can, when, as he said this, he turned toward me a countenance from which all feeling had died out save that of sadness. If he had plunged a knife in my vitals he could not have hurt me worse. ”Well, sir,” he insisted, ”proceed with your strapping.”

”You are more than even with me, my lad,” I said, ”and I humbly apologize for my words. But why should you be so short with one who certainly wishes you no harm?”

”I am unable to tell you. You seem to be always smiling, while I am in trouble: perhaps that is why I am irritable.” He looked at me hard as he resumed his seat in the rocker, and again I had the curious feeling that I had met him somewhere before--perhaps in some sphere of former existence. Memory, however, refused to disgorge the details, and I could only gaze helplessly into the fire.

After a little the lad hitched his chair closer to mine, and I could have thanked him for that. He drew on his glove and drew it off again.

”Will you shake hands with me?” he inquired. ”I feel that I am all to blame.” As I took his hand in mine I could but notice how small and soft it was.

”No, you are not all to blame,” I said. ”I am ill-mannered by nature.”

”I never will believe it,” he declared with something like a smile.

”No, it is not so.”

Before I could make any reply, in walked Jasper Goodrum, of the Independents, and, following hard at his heels, was the man who had the appearance of a prize-fighter. This last comer appeared to be in a state of great excitement, and his brutal, overbearing nature was clearly in evidence. He walked across the room to my lad--I was now beginning to feel a proprietary interest in him--and seized him roughly by the arm.

”Come 'ere!” he said, and his voice was thick with anger. ”You've got more'n you bargained for. Come into the next room; you better had! Say, ain't you comin'?” He tried to pull the lad along, but the youngster was not to be pulled.

”Don't touch me!” he exclaimed. ”Don't you dare to put your hands on me. You have lied to me, and that is enough!” The short-haired man was almost beside himself with anger, and I could see that the lad would be no match for him. He was not at all frightened, but when he turned his eyes toward me, with a little smile, I saw the face of Jane Ryder, the little lady I had seen in a top-buggy on her way to carry aid to Jack Bledsoe. And instantly I was furious with a blind rage that stung me like a thousand hornets.

I rose and slapped the ruffian on the shoulder in a way that would have knocked an ordinary man down. ”You dirty brute!” I cried, ”say to me what you have to say to the lad!”

VI

The man regarded me with an amazement that soon flamed up into anger.

His under-jaw stuck out ferociously, and the veins on his neck and forehead were swollen with indignation. Before he could say anything Jasper Goodrum intervened. ”This is partly my affair,” he said to the short-haired man, ”and you'd better leave this countryman alone.”

”You're wrong,” said the man; ”it is not your affair. How can it be when I don't know you?”

”Still,” insisted Goodrum, ”you'd better not bother the countryman.

You'll git yourself in trouble.”

”Trouble!” he snorted. ”Say! that's what I'm after. He's waded into the creek and he can't git out without wettin' his feet.” Then he turned to me, his eyes full of venomous rage. ”Say! what do you take me for?” He came closer and stuck his ugly mug near my face.

My reply was made with an exceedingly willing mind. I struck him on the jaw with my open hand and sent him reeling. He recovered his balance almost instantly and made at me with a roar of rage and pain, but he never reached me, for Whistling Jim ran into him head down like a bull.

The result was a collision that put the man out of business and knocked all the fight out of him. He lay on the floor and rolled about in an agony of pain, and the negro stood over him, apparently waiting for a fitting opportunity to put in the finis.h.i.+ng touch, but his hard head had done the work for the time being.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Whistling Jim ran into him head down like a bull.]

I judged that the ruffian had friends among the guests, but when I turned to keep an eye on them the room was clear. Even the landlord had retired. The lad was standing by my side, and my impression is that he was holding me by the sleeve of my coat. I turned to him, and I was more certain than ever that he was either Jane Ryder or her brother.

But it was only when she spoke again that I was sure--for not even a twin brother could simulate that round and singularly mellow voice. ”I am afraid you have made matters somewhat hard for me,” she said, somewhat sadly, ”and heaven knows that I have had trouble enough for one night.”

”Well, you will have no more trouble here, at any rate,” I said.