A Knight of the Cumberland

A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND
BY JOHN FOX, JR.

CONTENTS I. The Blight in the Hills
II. On the Wild Dog's Trail
III. The Auricular Talent of the Hon. Samuel Budd
IV. Close Quarters
V. Back to the Hills
VI. The Great Day
VII. At Last--The Tournament
VIII.The Knight Passes
A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND

I
THE BLIGHT IN THE HILLS
High noon of a crisp October day, sunshine flooding the earth with the
warmth and light of old wine and, going single-file up through the
jagged gap that the dripping of water has worn down through the
Cumberland Mountains from crest to valley-level, a gray horse and two
big mules, a man and two young girls. On the gray horse, I led the
tortuous way. After me came my small sister--and after her and like her,
mule- back, rode the Blight--dressed as she would be for a gallop in

Central Park or to ride a hunter in a horse show.
I was taking them, according to promise, where the feet of other
women than mountaineers had never trod--beyond the crest of the Big
Black--to the waters of the Cumberland--the lair of moonshiner and
feudsman, where is yet pocketed a civilization that, elsewhere, is long
ago gone. This had been a pet dream of the Blight's for a long time, and
now the dream was coming true. The Blight was in the hills.
Nobody ever went to her mother's house without asking to see her even
when she was a little thing with black hair, merry face and black eyes.
Both men and women, with children of their own, have told me that she
was, perhaps, the most fascinating child that ever lived. There be some
who claim that she has never changed--and I am among them. She
began early, regardless of age, sex or previous condition of
servitude--she continues recklessly as she began--and none makes
complaint. Thus was it in her own world--thus it was when she came to
mine. On the way down from the North, the conductor's voice changed
from a command to a request when he asked for her ticket. The
jacketed lord of the dining-car saw her from afar and advanced to show
her to a seat--that she might ride forward, sit next to a shaded window
and be free from the glare of the sun on the other side. Two porters
made a rush for her bag when she got off the car, and the proprietor of
the little hotel in the little town where we had to wait several hours for
the train into the mountains gave her the bridal chamber for an
afternoon nap. From this little town to ``The Gap'' is the worst
sixty-mile ride, perhaps, in the world. She sat in a dirty day-coach; the
smoke rolled in at the windows and doors; the cars shook and swayed
and lumbered around curves and down and up gorges; there were about
her rough men, crying children, slatternly women, tobacco juice,
peanuts, popcorn and apple cores, but dainty, serene and as merry as
ever, she sat through that ride with a radiant smile, her keen black eyes
noting everything unlovely within and the glory of hill, tree and chasm
without. Next morning at home, where we rise early, no one was
allowed to waken her and she had breakfast in bed--for the Blight's
gentle tyranny was established on sight and varied not at the Gap.

When she went down the street that day everybody stared
surreptitiously and with perfect respect, as her dainty black plumed
figure passed; the post-office clerk could barely bring himself to say
that there was no letter for her. The soda-fountain boy nearly filled her
glass with syrup before he saw that he was not strictly minding his own
business; the clerk, when I bought chocolate for her, unblushingly
added extra weight and, as we went back, she met them both--Marston,
the young engineer from the North, crossing the street and, at the same
moment, a drunken young tough with an infuriated face reeling in a run
around the corner ahead of us as though he were being pursued. Now
we have a volunteer police guard some forty strong at the Gap--and
from habit, I started for him, but the Blight caught my arm tight. The
young engineer in three strides had reached the curb-stone and all he
sternly said was:
``Here! Here!''
The drunken youth wheeled and his right hand shot toward his hip
pocket. The engineer was belted with a pistol, but with one lightning
movement and an incredibly long reach, his right fist caught the
fellow's jaw so that he pitched backward and collapsed like an empty
bag. Then the engineer caught sight of the Blight's bewildered face,
flushed, gripped his hands in front of