Smiles | Page 8

thunder
as it echoed down the valley.
Mike growled uneasily and crouched close to his master's legs, but
Rose ran again to the door and stood, heedless of the rain which beat in
upon her wind-whipped skirt, peering out with evident delight. A still
more vivid, zigzag flash rent the serried masses of black storm-clouds
which were rolling up over the mountain's top, edging the nearer one
with fire, and she laughed merrily and clapped her hands like a child.

"Shet thet door, yo' young vixen," bellowed Big Jerry, plainly disturbed.
The girl obeyed, and gave him a kiss, and the whining dog a reassuring
pat, as she hurried back to finish setting the table--a simple matter, for
there was no spotless damask, glittering silver and cut glass to deck the
white-scoured top of the plain slab which formed a substantial table for
many purposes.
In a moment she had announced, quite informally, that supper was
served; but, just as the two men arose to take their places, there came a
long "hulloo-oo" above the sound of wind and rain. Again Rose dashed
to the door, with the cry, "Why, thet's Judd Amos; I knows his call."
Without reason or warning Donald experienced a quick tightening
about his heart, the absurdity of which caused him to smile. What on
earth was it to him if this mountain child's color heightened a shade at a
familiar call in a masculine voice?
The next instant a tall youth, as lean and sinewy as an Indian, stumbled
into the room, with his rough coat about his head, and water streaming
from his drenched clothing and the barrel of a gun, which was every
whit as modern and efficient as Donald's own.
"Gosh a'mighty," he said. "Thought I'd be drownded, shore. Hit's
a-goin' ter be a rip-snorter ... worst storm er the summer, by the way
hit's started." Then, as he dashed the rain from his eyes, and, for the
first time caught sight of the visitor, he stopped short in none too
pleased surprise, if the black look which went toward Donald from
beneath his lowering brows meant anything.
"Make ye acquainted with Donald MacDonald, a doctor man from the
city, Judd," boomed the giant's hearty voice. "Doc, shake hands with a
neighbor uv ourn, Judd Amos."
As Donald stood up he managed to silence Mike's throaty growl with a
warning shove with his foot. The men formally clasped hands, their
eyes looking steadily into each other's from the same level, and this
time, primed by his earlier experience, the city man exerted all of his
strength, and felt a glow of childish satisfaction as the other winced.

"Set ye down, Judd. Draw a cheer up by the fire, yo're soaked," said
Big Jerry. "Honey-rose," he added, addressing the girl in a wheedling
tone, "Judd 'pears ter be powerful soaked an' cold. Kaint he ... kaint
we-all hev jest a drap o' white liquor?"
He stroked his beard and pushed aside his drooping mustache in
anticipation, but to no avail, for her answer, uttered firmly and with no
suggestion of a smile in her deep eyes this time, was, "'Deed yo' kaint;
nary a drap. Yo' know, an' Juddy, he knows ..." to Donald there seemed
to be some special significance in her words, "thet thar haint a-goin' ter
be nary a drap o' thet devil's brew in house o' mine. Why, I be plumb
s'prised at ye, grandpap."
The tremendous old man rubbed his whiskers faster and hemmed
apologetically. "In course I haint got none ... in the cabin ..." he glanced
quickly at Donald, "an' I didn't mean nothin', Smiles. Come, swing yo'r
cheer erround ter the table, Judd, we'll jest fergit the eeliments, an'
enjoy a dry celebration in the doctor's honor ... all 'cept Judd, he air
plenty wet," he added, in a jocose attempt to turn his mistake into a jest.
"Rose hurted her foot, an' doc, he done hit up fer her real nice."
More bashfully than before, the girl extended the injured member in its
now mud-bedraggled bandage for the newcomer's inspection.
Donald had been watching the scene with quiet amusement over the
child's assurance, and had noticed not only the look of sorrowful
resignation on her grandfather's face, but the dull flush which mounted
the swarthy cheeks of the younger man. Judd's mouth retained the
straight line for some time, but a quick burst of light-hearted song on
Smiles' lips, as she turned to dish up the savory stew, showed that the
incident was forgotten by her as soon as it was ended.
"Better let me lift it down for you," said Donald, as she swung the
crane with its heavy iron kettle from the fire. "We don't want any more
burns here to-night."
He jumped up