Ralph Grangers Fortunes | Page 7

"but I'll be careful how he sees me. I'm going to get out of the range of this feud if I have to travel clear to the seacoast."
As he had a lunch along--given him by Mrs. Dopples--he did not stop anywhere for dinner, but trudged resolutely on at a three mile an hour gait.
His young limbs, hardened by constant mountain climbing, did not tire readily, while his experience of traveling enabled him to keep the general course he wished to go, notwithstanding the branch trails and the many windings caused by the ruggedness of the country.
The latter portion of the afternoon was occupied in climbing a long mountain range that overtopped most of the others in sight. The sun was nearly setting as he reached the summit; then he uttered an exclamation of astonishment.
Behind him was a confused jumble of peaks and ridges as far as the eye could reach. It was the region he had left--his own native wilds.
Before him stretched an undulating panorama of plain, valley, and gentle hills. There were patches of woodland, great plantations with here and there variegated spots that Ralph supposed to be villages.
It was his first view of the level country beyond the Blue Ridge, and he surveyed it with intense interest.
"They say it stretches that way clear to the seacoast," he said to himself as he began to descend the mountain. "I don't see how they can see any distance with no big ridges to look off from."
This idea--otherwise laughable--was perfectly natural to a lad who had never seen anything but wild and rugged mountains in his life.
He quickened his pace, wishing to get down into the region of farms and houses before darkness should come. A rising cloud in the southeast also occasioned him some concern.
"Looks mighty like there might be rain in that cloud," he thought. "I've got matches, but I'd hate to have to spend a wet night out in these woods."
The gun went down and the black south-easterly haze came up, with semi-tropical celerity. Ralph was still in the lonely region of forest and crag, when a whirl of wind struck him in the face and a few drops spattered on the leaves of the chestnuts around.
The brief southern twilight was blotted out almost at once by the overspreading clouds, and young Granger became conscious that he had somehow missed the trail.
"That is odd," he muttered. "It was just here a minute ago."
Something like a yellow gleam caught his eye, and he plunged along in its course in a reckless manner, for he was nervous with anxiety.
Being in a strange region, with a storm on the point of breaking, was not pleasant even to older nerves, when added to the natural terrors of a night in the woods, without any other company than one's brooding thoughts.
"Hello! What's this?" he exclaimed as he almost ran against an obstruction that looked not unlike a steep house roof.
The odor of tar and resin pervaded the air. Ralph groped his way around it, feeling here and there with his hands.
"It's a tar kiln, sure as preaching!" ejaculated he, at length. "There ought to be some kind of a shack about, looks like."
He was still searching, when the wind, which had been increasing, brought with it a sudden downpour of rain. Ralph was about to rush for a tree to shelter himself, when a flash of lightning lighted up the kiln and surrounding objects with a pale, brief glare.
"Ha--there she is!" exclaimed Ralph, discovering the object of his search. "I almost knew the man as put up this kiln must have had a shelter of some kind."
He made his way to a low, brush covered frame near by, arriving there just in time. The darkness was intense, except when cloven by the lightning, while the fall of rain was drenching and furious.
The shack leaked some, but it was an immense improvement over a tree for shelter.
"Let's see where we are, anyhow," said Ralph, producing some matches, one of which he struck. "Hello! There are some pine knots. Here's luck at last."
In a few minutes he had a small fire blazing brightly, and felt more like contemplating his surroundings with cheerful equanimity.
But as the rain increased, the leaks grew in number, threatening to put out the fire, and converting the earth floor into a mushy mud puddle.
"I can't do any sleeping here," thought he. "Might just as well make up my mind for a night of it round this fire."
By dint of careful watching he kept his fire from going entirely out, and managed to keep himself dry by picking out the spots where the leaks were fewest in which to stand.
But it was a dreary, lonesome time. The wind whistled dolefully through the pines, and the rain splashed unmercifully upon the bark and