Part 23 (2/2)
Chauvenet turned and faced a scowling mountaineer who held a rifle and drew it to his shoulder as Chauvenet threw out his arms, dropped them to his thighs and laughed carelessly.
”What is it, my dear fellow--my watch--my purse--my horse?” he said in English.
”He wants none of those things,” said s.h.i.+rley, urging her horse a few steps toward the man. ”The mountain people are not robbers. What can we do for you?” she asked pleasantly.
”You cain't do nothin' for me,” drawled the man. ”Go on away, Miss. I want to see this little fella'. I got a little business with him.”
”He is a foreigner--he knows little of our language. You will do best to let me stay,” said s.h.i.+rley.
She had not the remotest idea of what the man wanted, but she had known the mountain folk from childhood and well understood that familiarity with their ways and tact were necessary in dealing with them.
”Miss, I have seen you befo', and I reckon we ain't got no cause for trouble with you; but this little fella' ain't no business up hy'eh. Them hotel people has their own places to ride and drive, and it's all right for you, Miss; but what's yo' frien' ridin' the hills for at night? He's lookin' for some un', and I reckon as how that some un' air me!”
He spoke drawlingly with a lazy good humor in his tones, and s.h.i.+rley's wits took advantage of his deliberation to consider the situation from several points of view. Chauvenet stood looking from s.h.i.+rley to the man and back again. He was by no means a coward, and he did not in the least relish the thought of owing his safety to a woman. But the confidence with which s.h.i.+rley addressed the man, and her apparent familiarity with the peculiarities of the mountaineers impressed him. He spoke to her rapidly in French.
”a.s.sure the man that I never heard of him before in my life--that the idea of seeking him never occurred to me.”
The rifle--a repeater of the newest type--went to the man's shoulder in a flash and the blue barrel pointed at Chauvenet's head.
”None o' that! I reckon the American language air good enough for these 'ere negotiations.”
Chauvenet shrugged his shoulders; but he gazed into the muzzle of the rifle unflinchingly.
”The gentleman was merely explaining that you are mistaken; that he does not know you and never heard of you before, and that he has not been looking for you in the mountains or anywhere else.”
As s.h.i.+rley spoke these words very slowly and distinctly she questioned for the first time Chauvenet's position. Perhaps, after all, the mountaineer had a real cause of grievance. It seemed wholly unlikely, but while she listened to the man's reply she weighed the matter judicially.
They were in an unfrequented part of the mountains, which cottagers and hotel guests rarely explored. The mountaineer was saying:
”Mountain folks air slow, and we don't know much, but a stranger don't ride through these hills more than once for the scenery; the second time he's got to tell why; and the third time--well, Miss, you kin tell the little fella' that there ain't no third time.”
Chauvenet flushed and he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed hotly:
”I have never been here before in my life.”
The man dropped the rifle into his arm without taking his eyes from Chauvenet. He said succinctly, but still with his drawl:
”You air a liar, seh!”
Chauvenet took a step forward, looked again into the rifle barrel, and stopped short. f.a.n.n.y, bored by the prolonged interview, bent her neck and nibbled at a weed.
”This gentleman has been in America only a few weeks; you are certainly mistaken, friend,” said s.h.i.+rley boldly. Then the color flashed into her face, as an explanation of the mountaineer's interest in a stranger riding the hills occurred to her.
”My friend,” she said, ”I am Miss Claiborne. You may know my father's house down in the valley. We have been coming here as far back as I can remember.”
The mountaineer listened to her gravely, and at her last words he unconsciously nodded his head. s.h.i.+rley, seeing that he was interested, seized her advantage.
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