A Pagan of the Hills | Page 3

to him that he was executing living and
beloved friends. Now an inimical force of Nature threatened to rob him
of them and of his remuneration as well. Yet as he stood there, with the
sweat and grime of his labor drying on his forehead, his brooding eyes
held a patriarchal dignity of uncomplaining courage.
"All these hyar men air my neighbors, Mr. Brent," he said with a
manner of instinctive courtesy. "They hain't a-workin' fer wages but
jest ter kinderly convenience me--I reckon we're both of us right smart
beholden to 'em."

The city man acquiescently nodded his head but he was thinking
chiefly of the calm patience and the tireless strenuousity with which
McGivins, himself, was battling against calamity.
"They are friends of yours," he answered. "They realize that your loss
will be heavy if----" He broke off there and the other went on.
"Hit'll mighty nigh cripple me ef we don't save 'em. I've done held on
ter thet timber fer a long spell of years an' I sorrers ter part with hit now.
But thar's a right weighty mortgage on my land an' hit's held by a man
thet don't squander no love on me at best."
Brent gritted his teeth. He had heretofore known only in the
indirectness of theory the sudden capriciousness of mountain weather;
storms that burst and cannonade without warning; trickling waters that
leap overnight into maddened freshets. Now he was seeing in its
blood-raw ferocity the primal combat between man and the elements.
With a troubled brow Parson Acup returned and addressed McGivins.
"Aaron," he said bluntly, "right numerous fellers air threatenin' ter quit
us and we kain't spare a single hand."
The old man flinched as if under a blow from a trusted hand. "What fer
does they aim ter quit?" he demanded.
"Bud Sellers has started in drinkin' licker, an' a'ready he's gittin'
malignant. Ther Martin boys an' ther Copelands an' others beside 'em,
'lows thet they ain't seekin' no heedless trouble and hit's more
heedful-like fer 'em ter go on home an' avoid an affray. Ef they stays on
hit's right apt to end in blood-lettin'."
McGivins drew himself to a more rigid erectness. "Go back an' tell
them boys thet I needs 'em," he ordered. "Tell 'em ef they don't stand by
me now, I'm ruint. I'll send Bud away ef thet's all thet's frettin' 'em."
"I wouldn't counsel ye ter cross Bud jest now," advised Acup, but the
other laughed under his long beard, a low angry laugh, as he turned on
his heel and, with the man from the city following him, started in

search of the troublemaker.
Bud was found at last behind the great hump of towering rock. The
place, walled in by beetling precipice, was beginning to darken into
cloister-dim shadows. Bud's back was turned and he did not hear the
footfall of the two men who had come upon him there. He knew that
when once he succumbed to the thirst it meant a parting with reason
and a frenzy of violence. But when the first savor of the fiery
moonshine stuff had teased his palate and the first warmth had glowed
in his stomach it meant surrender to debauch--and already he had gone
too far to fight the appetite which was his ruin.
Now he stood with the flask to his lips and his head bent back, but
when he had drunk deep he turned and saw the two figures that were
silently observing him.
His eyes were already blood-shot and his cheeks reddened. The
motions of his lithe body were unsteady. With a shamefaced gesture the
young man sought to conceal the flask under his coat, then a fickle
change came to his mood. His head bent down low like a bull's and his
shoulders hulked in a stiffening defiance.
"Spyin' on me, air ye?" The question rasped savagely from his
thickened lips. "Well, damn ther pair of ye, spies desarves what they
gits! I'm a free man an' I don't suffer no bull-dozin' from nobody."
He lurched forward with so threatening an air that Brent stepped a little
to the side and instinctively his hand went to the coat pocket where he
carried a pistol. But Bud ignored him, focussing his attention upon the
mountain man to whom he had come in friendship and service for the
stemming of a disaster. He came with a chin out-thrust close to the
older and bearded face. Truculence and reckless bravado proclaimed
themselves in the pose, as he bulked there. "Wa'al," he snarled, "ye
heered me, didn't ye?"
But McGivins had not altered his attitude. He had not given back a
stride nor moved his arms. Now he spoke quietly.

"I'm sore grieved to see you comin' ter this pass, Bud," he said. "We