A Pagan of the Hills | Page 5

quick glance of warning from Acup cautioned him that this was a
tactless line and one of the men answered shortly, "Pay hain't skeercely
ergoin' ter hold a man up on his legs when them legs gives out under
him, stranger."
"No, Lige, pay won't do it, but upstandin' nerve will--an' I knows ye've
got hit. Ef anybody quits now, they're all right apt ter foller suit."
At the sound of the first words, Brent had pivoted as suddenly as
though a bolt had struck him. They came in a voice so out of keeping
with the surroundings, so totally different from any he had heard that
day, that it was a paradox of sound. In the first place it was a woman's
voice and here were only sweating men. In the second, although full
and clear as if struck from well cast bell metal, it had a rich sweetness
and just now the thrill of deep emotion.
In the red flare of the bonfire that sent up a shower of sparks into the
wet darkness, he saw a figure that brought fresh astonishment.
The woman stood there with a long rubber slicker tight-buttoned from
collar to hem. Below that Brent saw rubber boots. She stood with a
lance-like straightness, very tall, very pliant, and as he stared with a
fixity which would have amounted to impertinence had it not been
disarmed by amazement she looked past him and through him as if he
were himself without substance.

Then she took off the heavy Nor'wester that had shaded her face, and
the firelight fell on masses of hair deeply and redly gold; upon features
exquisitely modeled, in no wise masculine or heavy, yet full of
dominance. Duskily-lashed eyes of dark violet were brimming with a
contagious energy and her rounded chin was splendidly atilt. A sculptor
might have modeled her as she stood, and entitled his bronze "Victory."
Her coloring too was rich, almost dazzling, and Brent thought that he
had never seen such arresting beauty or such an unusual though
harmonious blending of feminine allurement--and masculine spirit.
Though in height she approached the heroic of scale, the first summary
of impression which he drew from feature and coloring was "delicately
gorgeous."
The girl vouchsafed him no attention of any kind but remained silent
for a moment with her eyes raining so resolute a fire that those of the
exhausted workers kindled into faint responsiveness.
Then the vibrant clarity of the voice sounded again--and the voice too
had that strangely hypnotic quality that one felt in the glance. "You
boys have all worked here hour on hour, till ye're nigh dead. My paw
an' me are already powerful beholden to ye all but----" She paused and
under just such an emotion the ordinary woman's throat would have
caught with a sob and her eyes would have filled with tears. It was not
so with Alexander. Her note only softened into a deeper gravity. "But
he lays over thar an' I mistrusts he's a-dyin' ternight. He wouldn't suffer
me ter tarry by his bed-side because he 'lowed thet you boys needed a
man ter work along with ye in his place. If ye quits now all the labor
ye've done spent goes fer naught." She paused a moment and then
impulsively she broke out: "An' I couldn't hardly endure ter go back
thar an' tell him that we'd failed."
As she paused the hollow-eyed men shuffled their feet but none of
them spoke. They had given generously, prodigally even, of their effort
and it had not been for hire. Yet under the burning appeal of her eyes
they flushed as though they had been self-confessed malingerers.
"But as fer me," went on Alexander, "I've got ter git ter work."

She unbuttoned and cast off the long rubber coat and Brent felt as if he
had seen the unveiling of a sculptured figure which transcended
mediocrity. A flannel shirt, open on a splendidly rounded throat,
emphasized shoulders that fell straight and, for a woman unusually
broad, though not too broad for grace. She was an Amazon in physique
yet so nicely balanced of proportion that one felt more conscious of
delicate litheness than of size. As her breath came fast with excitement
the fine arch of her heaving bosom was that of a Diana. Belted about a
waist that had never known the cramp of stays, she wore a pair of
trousers thrust into her boot tops and no man there was more
unself-conscious.
The exhausted men stirred restlessly as they watched her go down to
the dam, and one of those who had dropped to a sitting posture came
lumberingly to his feet again.
"I reckon I've got my second wind now," he lamely announced.
"Mebby thar's a leetle mite more work left