A Mountain Europa | Page 9

them to the camp. These stood near, huddled into a listless
group, with their faces half hidden in check bonnets of various colors.
A barbaric love of color was apparent in bonnet, shawl, and gown, and
surprisingly in contrast with such crudeness of taste was a face when
fully seen, so modest was it. The features were always delicately
wrought, and softened sometimes by a look of patient suffering almost
into refinement.
On the other side of the contestants were the people of the camp, a few
miners with pipes lounging on the ground, and women and girls, who
returned the furtive glances of the mountain women with stares of
curiosity and low laughter.
Clayton had been delayed by his work, and the match was already
going on when he reached the grounds.

"You've missed mighty fine shootin'," said Uncle Tommy Brooks, who
was squatted on the ground near the group of marksmen.
Sherd's been a-beatin' ever'body. I'm afeard Easter hain't a-comm'. The
match is 'most over now. Ef she'd been here, I don't think Sherd would
'a' got the ch'ice parts o' that beef so easy."
"Which is he? " asked Clayton.
That tall feller thar loadin' his gun."
"What did you say his name was?
" Sherd Raines, the feller that's goin' to be our circuit-rider."
He remembered the peculiar name. So this was Easter's lover. Clayton
looked at the young mountaineer, curiously at first, and then with
growing interest. His quiet air of authority among his fellows was like a
birthright; it seemed assumed and accepted unconsciously. His face
was smooth, and he was fuller in figure than the rest, but still sinewy
and lank, though not awkward; his movements were too quick and
decisive for that. With a casual glance Clayton had wondered what
secret influence could have turned to spiritual things a man so merely
animal-like in face and physique; but when the mountaineer thrust back
his hat, elemental strength and seriousness were apparent in the square
brow, the steady eye, the poise of the head, and in lines around the
strong mouth and chin in which the struggle for self-mastery had been
traced.
As the mountaineer thrust his ramrod back into its casing, he glanced at
the woods behind Clayton, and said something to his companions. They,
too, raised their eyes, and at the same moment the old mountaineer
plucked Clayton by the sleeve.
"Thar comes Easter now."
The girl had just emerged from the edge of the forest, and with a rifle
on one shoulder and a bullet-pouch and powder-horn swung from the

other, was slowly coming down the path.
" Why, how air ye, Easter? " cried the old man, heartily. " Goin' to
shoot, air ye? I 'lowed ye wouldn't miss this. Ye air mighty late,
though."
Oh, I only wanted a turkey," said the girl. "Well, I'm a-comm' up to eat
dinner with ye to-morrer," he answered, with a laugh, " fer I know ye'll
git one. Y'u're on hand fer most o' the matches now. Wild turkeys must
be a-gittin' skeerce."
The girl smiled, showing a row of brilliant teeth between her thin, red
lips, and, without answering, moved toward the group of mountain
women. Clayton had raised his hand to his hat when the old man
addressed her, but he dropped it quickly to his side in no little
embarrassment when the girl carelessly glanced over him with no sign
of recognition. Her rifle was an old flint-lock of light build, but nearly
six feet in length, with a shade of rusty tin two feet long fastened to the
barrel to prevent the sunlight from affecting the marksman's aim. She
wore a man's hat, which, with unintentional coquetry, was perched on
one side of her head. Her hair was short, and fell as it pleased about her
neck. She was bare-footed, and apparently clad in a single garment, a
blue homespun gown, gathered loosely at her uncorseted waist, and
showing the outline of the bust and every movement of the tall, supple
form beneath. Her appearance had quickened the interest of the
spectators, and apparently was a disturbing influence among the
contestants, who were gathered together, evidently in dispute. From
their glances Clayton saw that Easter was the subject of it.
"I guess they don't want her to shoot-them that hain't won nothin'," said
Uncle Tommy.
She hev come in late," Clayton heard one say, " 'n' she oughtn' to shoot.
Thar hain't no chance shootin' ag'in her noways, 'n' I'm in favor o'
barrin' her out."
Oh no; let her shoot "-the voice was Raines's. "Thar hain't nothin' but a
few turkeys left, 'n' ye'd better bar out the gun 'stid o' the gal, anyway,

fer that gun kin outshoot any-thing in the mountains."
The girl had been silently watching