A Son of the Hills, by Harriet T.
Comstock
The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Son of the Hills, by Harriet T.
Comstock This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and
with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: A Son of the Hills
Author: Harriet T. Comstock
Release Date: January 22, 2007 [EBook #20424]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SON OF
THE HILLS ***
Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: "Cautiously Cynthia stepped close and looked in . . .
Sandy was painting at his easel"]
A SON OF THE HILLS
BY
HARRIET T. COMSTOCK
AUTHOR OF
JOYCE OF THE NORTH WOODS,
JANET OF THE DUNES, ETC.
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS : NEW YORK
Copyright, 1913, by
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages,
including the Scandinavian
A Son of the Hills
CHAPTER I
Lost Hollow lies close at the foot of the mountain which gives it its
name. The height of neither is great, geographically considered; the
peak is perhaps eighteen hundred feet above sea level: The Hollow, a
thousand, and from that down to The Forge there is a gradual descent
by several trails and one road, a very deplorable one, known as The
Appointed Way, but abbreviated into--The Way.
There are a few wretched cabins in Lost Hollow, detached and dreary;
between The Hollow and The Forge are some farms showing more or
less cultivation, and there is the Walden Place, known before the
war--they still speak of that event among the southern hills as if
Sheridan had ridden through in the morning and might be expected
back at night--as the Great House.
Among the crevasses of the mountains there are Blind Tigers, or Speak
Easies--as the stills are called--and, although there is little trading done
with the whiskey outside the country side, there is much mischief
achieved among the natives who have no pleasure of relaxation except
such as is evolved from the delirium brought about by intoxication.
The time of this story is not to-day nor is it very many yesterdays ago;
it was just before young Sandy Morley had his final "call" and obeyed
it; just after the Cup-of-Cold-Water Lady came to Trouble Neck--three
miles from The Hollow--and while she was still distrusted and feared.
Away back in the days of the Revolution the people of the hills were of
the best. All of them who could serve their country then, did it nobly
and well. Some of them signed the Declaration of Independence and
then returned to their homes with the dignity and courage of men in
whose veins flowed aristocratic blood as well as that of adventurous
freemen. There they waited for the recognition they expected and
deserved. But the new-born republic was too busy and breathless to
seek them out or pause to listen to their voices, which were softer, less
insistent than others nearer by. In those far past times the Morleys and
the Hertfords were equals and the Walden Place deserved its name of
the Great House. The Appointed Way was the Big Road, and was kept
in good order by well-fed and contented slaves who had not then
dreamed of freedom.
The final acceptance of the hill people's fate came like a deadening
shock to the men and women of the Lost Mountain district--they were
forgotten in the new dispensation; in the readjustment they were
overlooked! The Hertfords left the hills with uplifted and indignant
heads--they had the courage of their convictions and meant to take what
little was left to them and demand recognition elsewhere--they had
always been rovers. Besides, just at that time Lansing Hertford and
Sandford Morley, sworn friends and close comrades, had had that
secret misunderstanding that was only whispered about then, and it
made it easier for Hertford to turn his back upon his home lands and
leave them to the gradual decay to which they were already doomed.
The Waldens had retained enough of this world's goods to enable them
to descend the social scale slower than their neighbours. Inch by inch
they debated the ground, and it was only after the Civil War that Fate
gripped them noticeably. Up to that time they had been able to hide,
from the none too discriminating natives, the true state of affairs.
The Morleys and the Tabers, the Townleys and the Moores, once they
recognized the true significance of what had happened, made no
struggle; uttered no defiance. They slunk farther back into the hills;
they shrank from observation and depended more and more upon
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.