A Son of the Hills | Page 5

it was that his half-sister, Molly,
became a distinct and potent factor in his life; one with which he must
reckon. Going to the rock on a certain evening to bury his share of the
day's profit he wearily raised the stone, deposited the money and turned
to go home, when he encountered Molly peering at him with elfish and
menacing eyes from behind a bush.
"What you doing there, yo' Sandy?" she asked half coaxingly, half
threateningly.
"Nothing."
"I seen you--a-hiding something. I'm going to look!" She made a
movement forward.

"Hyar! you Molly!" Sandy clung to her. "If you raise that stone 'twill be
the last of you. I've got a horned toad there and--a poison sarpint."
"Then I'll--I'll tell Dad." Molly shrank back, though not wholly
convinced. It was time for compromise, and Sandy, with a sickening
fear, recognized it and blindly fell upon the one thing that could have
swayed the girl.
"I'm a-training and taming them," he lied desperately, "and when they
are ready we-all can make money out of them, but if you tell--Dad will
kill 'em! I tell you, Molly, if you don't say a single thing I'll--I'll give
you a cent every week. A cent to buy candy with!"
The promise was given, and from that day Sandy paid his blood money,
hoping that greed would hold the child to her bargain, but with always
a feeling of insecurity. He changed his box to another rock, but a
certain uncanniness about Molly gained a power over him and he never
felt safe.
Things went rapidly from bad to worse in the Morley cabin. Martin
forgot his prayers and ambitions; he grew subservient to Mary and
never strove against her, even when her wrath and temper were directed
toward him and Sandy. Discredited and disliked by his neighbours,
flouted by the woman who had used him for her own gain, the man
became a detestable and pitiable creature. Sandy endured the blows and
ratings that became his portion, in the family disturbances, with proud
silence. He was making ready and until the hour of his departure came
he must bear his part.
It was during the probation and preparatory period that Marcia Lowe,
the Cup-of-Cold-Water Lady, came up The Way one golden afternoon
and stopped her horse before the post office, General Store and County
Club of The Hollow, and, leaning out from the ramshackle buggy, gave
a rather high, nasal call to whoever might be within.
CHAPTER II
Tod Greeley, the postmaster, was sitting on his cracker box

contemplatively eying the rusty stove enthroned upon its sawdust
platform, in the middle of the store. Every man in The Hollow had his
own particular chair or box when the circle, known as the County Club,
formed for recreation or business. No one presumed to occupy
another's place: Tod Greeley's pedestal was a cracker box and its sides
were well battered from the blows his heels gave it when emotions ran
high or his sentiments differed from his neighbour's. Greeley was not a
Hollow man; he had been selected by Providence, as he himself would
have said, to perform a service for his country: namely, that of
postmaster, storekeeper, and arbiter of things in general. He was a tall,
lean man of forty, good looking, indolent, and with some force of
character which was mainly evinced by his power of keeping his
temper when he was facing a critical situation. While not of The
Hollow, he was still with The Hollow on principle.
When Marcia Lowe paused before the store and emitted her call, which
flavoured of friendliness and the North, Greeley was vacantly looking
into space, hugging his bony knees, and listening to an indignant fly
buzzing on the dirty glass of the back window, protesting against any
exit being barred to its egress.
It was three o'clock of a late July day and, while the sun was hot, the
breeze gave promise of a cool night.
"Ooh! ooh!"
Just at first Greeley thought the fly had adopted a more militant tone.
"Oooh--ooh!"
Greeley pulled himself together, mentally and physically, and stalked
to the porch; there he encountered the very frank, smiling face of a
rather attractive youngish woman who greeted him cordially with a
high-pitched but sweet:
"Good afternoon."
"Good evening, ma'am," Tod returned.

"I just came up from The Forge; your roads are really scandalous, but
the scenery is beautiful. I want to see if there is any place near here
where I can get board? I've come to stay for a while, anyway; probably
for years, at least."
The young person seemed so eager to share her confidence that Greeley
was on his guard at once. He did not approve of the stills back among
the hills, but he did not feel called