A Mountain Europa | Page 7

distinction of caste-absolute. For generations, son had
lived like father in an isolation hardly credible. No influence save such
as shook the nation ever reached them. The Mexican war, slavery, and
national politics of the first half-century were still present issues, and
each old man would give his rigid, individual opinion sometimes with
surprising humor and force. He went much among them, and the
rugged old couples whom he found in the cabin porches-so much alike
at first-quickly became distinct with a quaint individuality. Among
young or old, however, he had found nothing like the half-wild young
creature he had met on the mountain that day. In her a type had crossed
his path-had driven him from it, in truth-that seemed unique and
inexplicable. He had been little more than amused at first, but a keen
interest had been growing in him with every thought of her. There was
an indefinable charm about the girl. She gave a new and sudden zest to
his interest in mountain life; and while he worked, the incidents of the
encounter on the mountain came minutely back to him till he saw her
again as she rode away, her supple figure swaying with every
movement of the beast, and dappled with quivering circles of sunlight
from the bushes, her face calm, but still flushed with color, and her
yellow hair shaking about her shoulders-not lustreless and flaxen, as
hair was in the mountains, he remembered, but catching the sunlight
like gold.
Almost unconsciously he laid aside his pencil and leaned from his

window to lift his eyes to the dark mountain he had climbed that day.
The rude melody of an old-fashioned hymn was coming up the glen,
and he recognized the thin, quavering voice of an old mountaineer,
Uncle Tommy Brooks, as he was familiarly known, whose cabin stood
in the midst of the camp, a pathetic contrast to the smart new houses
that had sprung around it. The old man had lived in the glen for nearly
three-quarters of a century, and he, if any one, must know the girl. With
the thought, Clayton sprang through the window, and a few minutes
later was at the cabin. The old man sat whittling in the porch, joining in
the song with which his wife was crooning a child to sleep within.
Clayton easily identified Europa, as he had christened her; the simple
mention of her means of transport was sufficient.
Ridin' a bull, was she? " repeated the old man, laughing. "Well, that
was Easter Hicks, old Bill Hicks' gal. She's a sort o' connection o' mine.
Me and Bill married cousins.
She's a cur'us critter as ever I seed. She don' seem to take atter her dad
nur her mammy nother, though Bill allus had a quar streak in 'im, and
was the wust man I ever seed when he was disguised by licker. Whar
does she live? Oh, up thar, right on top o' Wolf Mountain, with her
mammy."
Alone?
"Yes; fer her dad ain't thar. No; 'n' he ain't dead. I'll tell ye"-the old man
lowered his tone-" thar used to be a big lot o' moonshinin' done in these
parts, 'n' a raider come hyeh to see 'bout it. Well, one mornin' he was
found layin' in the road with a bullet through him. Bill was s'picioned.
Now, I ain't a-sayin' as Bill done it, but when a whole lot more rode up
thar on hosses one night, they didn't find Bill. They hain't found him yit,
fer he's out in the mountains somewhar a-hidin'."
"How do they get along without him?" asked Clayton.
"Why, the gal does the work. She ploughs with that bull, and does the
plantin' herself. She kin chop wood like a man. An' as fer shootin', well,
when huntin's good 'n' thar's shootin'-matches round-about, she don't

have to buy much meat."
"It's a wonder some young fellow hasn't married her. I suppose, though,
she's too young."
The old man laughed. "Thar's been many a lively young fellow that's
tried it, but she's hard to ketch as a wildcat. She won't have nothin' to
do with other folks, 'n' she nuver comes down hyeh into the valley,
'cept to git her corn groun' er to shoot a turkey. Sherd Raines goes up to
see her, and folks say he air tryin' to git her into the church. But the gal
won't go nigh a meetin'-house. She air a cur'us critter," he concluded
emphatically, " shy as a deer till she air stirred up, and then she air a
caution; mighty gentle sometimes, and ag'in stubborn as a mule."
A shrill, infantile scream came from within, and the old man paused a
moment to listen.
"Ye didn't know I had a great-grandchild, did ye? That's it a-hollerin'.
Talk