Miss Lou | Page 5

astonishment, she stepped to the brook, gathered up water in her hands, and dashed it into the face of the unconscious man. It had no effect. "Can he be dead?" she asked herself in horror. He was as pale as his bronzed features could become, and her woman's soul was touched that one who looked so strong, who had been so vital a moment before, should now lie there in pathetic and appealing helplessness. Was that fine, manly face the visage of one of the terrible, bloodthirsty, unscrupulous Yankees? Even as she ran to Aun' Jinkey's cottage for help the thought crossed her mind that the world was not what it had been represented to her, and that she must learn to think and act for herself.
As she approached, Chunk, Aun' Jinkey's grandson, appeared coming from the mansion house. He was nicknamed "Chunk" from his dwarfed stature and his stout, powerful build. Miss Lou put her finger to her lips, glanced hastily around, and led the way into the cabin. She hushed their startled exclamations as she told her story, and then said, "Aun' Jinkey, if he's alive, you must hide him in your loft there where Chunk sleeps. Come with me."
In a few moments all three were beside the unconscious form. Chunk instantly slipped his hand inside the soldier's vest over his heart. "Hit done beats," he said, quickly, and without further hesitation he lifted the man as if he had been a child, bore him safely to the cabin, and laid him on Aun' Jinkey's bed. "Hi, granny, whar dat hot stuff you gib me fer de belly misery?"
Aun' Jinkey had already found a bottle containing a decoction of the wild ginger root, and with pewter spoon forced some of the liquid into the man's mouth. He struggled slightly and began to revive. At last he opened his eyes and looked with an awed expression at the young girl who stood at the foot of the bed.
"I hope you feel better now," she said, kindly.
"Are you--am I alive?" he asked.
"Dar now, mars'r, you isn't in heb'n yet, dough Miss Lou, standin' dar, mout favor de notion. Des you took anoder swaller ob dis ginger-tea, en den you see me'n Chunk ain' angels."
Chunk grinned and chuckled. "Neber was took fer one in my bawn days."
The young man did as he was bidden, then turned his eyes wistfully and questioningly from the two dark visages back to the girl's sympathetic face.
"You remember," she said, "you were being chased, and turned your horse toward a steep bank, which you didn't see, and fell."
"Ah, yes--it's all growing clear. You were the woman I caught glimpse of."
She nodded and said: "I must go now, or some one will come looking for me. I won't speak--tell about this. I'm not on your side, but I'm not going to get a helpless man into more trouble. You may trust Aun' Jinkey and her grandson."
"Dat you kin, mars'r," Chunk ejaculated with peculiar emphasis.
"God bless you, then, for a woman who has a heart. I'm quite content that you're not an angel," and a smile so lighted up the soldier's features that she thought she had never seen a pleasanter looking man.
Worried indeed that she was returning so much later than usual, she hastened homeward. Half-way up the path to the house she met a tall, slender negro girl, who exclaimed, "Hi, Miss Lou, ole miss des gettin' 'stracted 'bout you, en mars'r sez ef you ain' at supper in five minits he's gwine down to Aun' Jinkey en know what she mean, meckin' sech' sturbence in de fambly."
"How absurd!" thought the girl. "Being a little late is a disturbance in the family." But she hastened on, followed by the girl, who was employed in the capacity of waitress. This girl, Zany by name, resented in accordance with her own ideas and character the principle of repression which dominated the household. She threw a kiss toward the cabin under the trees and shook with silent laughter as she muttered, "Dat fer you, Chunk. You de beat'nst nigger I eber see. You mos' ez bro'd ez I is high, yit you'se reachin' arter me. I des like ter kill mysef lafin' wen we dance tergeder," and she indulged in a jig-step and antics behind Miss Lou's back until she came in sight of the windows, then appeared as if following a hearse.
Miss Lou entered the rear door of the long, two-story house, surrounded on three sides by a wide piazza. Mr. Baron, a stout, bald-headed old gentleman, was fuming up and down the dining-room while his wife sat in grim silence at the foot of the table. It was evident that they had made stiff, old-fashioned toilets, and both looked askance at the flushed face of the almost