The Law of the Land | Page 9

on straight to ouah
house! It kain't miss it! An' little Sim, he's sho' to be playin' out thah on
the track. Oh, he's daid right this minute, he sho'ly is!"
Her speech exercised a certain force upon Jim Bowles. He stepped on
the faster, tripped upon a clod and stumbled, spilling half the milk from
the pail.
"Thah, now!" said he. "Thah hit goes ag'in. Done spilt the melk. Well,
hit's too far back to the house now fer mo'. But, now, mebbe Sim wasn't
playin' on the track."
"Mebbe he wasn't!" said Sarah Ann, scornfully. "Why, _o' co'se_ he
was."
"Well, if he was," said Jim Bowles, philosophically, "why, Sar' Ann,
from whut I done notice about this yeah railroad train, why--it's too late,
now."
He might perhaps have pursued this logical course of thought further,
had not there occurred an incident which brought the conversation to a
close. Looking up, the two saw approaching them across the lawn,

evidently coming from the little railway station, and doubtless
descended from this very train, the alert, quick-stepping figure of a man
evidently a stranger to the place. Jim and Sarah Ann Bowles stepped to
one side as he approached and lifted his hat with a pleasant smile.
"Good morning," said the stranger. "It's a fine day, isn't it? Can you tell
me whether or not Colonel Blount is at home this morning?"
"Well, suh," said Jim Bowles, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "He ah, an'
he ain't. He's home, o' co'se; that is, he hain't gone away no whah, to
co'te er nothin'. But then ag'in, he's out huntin', gone afteh b'ah. I
reckon he's likely to be in 'most any day now."
"'Most any day?"
"Yessah. You better go on up to the house. The Cunnel will be right
glad to see you. You're a stranger in these parts, I reckon? I'd be glad to
have you stop down to my house, but it's three mile down the track, an'
we hatter walk. You'd be mo' comfo'table heah, I reckon. Walk on up,
and tell 'em to give you a place to set. My woman an' me, I reckon we
got to git home now, suh. It's somethin' might be mighty serious."
"Yas, indeed," murmured Mrs. Bowles, "we got to git along."
"Thank you," said the stranger. "I am very much obliged to you, indeed.
I believe I will wait here for just a little while, as you say. Good
morning, sir. Good morning, madam."
He turned and walked slowly up the path toward the house, as the
others pursued their way to the railroad track, down which they
presently were plodding on their homeward journey. There was at least
a little milk left in the pail when finally they reached their log cabin,
with its yard full of pigs and chickens. Eagerly they scanned the sides
of the railway embankment as they drew near, looking for signs of what
they feared to see. One need not describe the fierce joy with which
Sarah Ann Bowles fell upon little Sim, who was presently discovered,
safe and dirty, knocking about upon the kitchen floor in abundant
company of puppies, cats and chickens. As to the reproaches which she

heaped upon her husband in her happiness, it is likewise unnecessary to
dwell thereupon.
"I knowed he would be kilt," said Sarah Ann.
"But he _hain't_," said her husband, triumphantly. And for one time in
their married life there seemed to be no possible way in which she
might contradict him, which fact for her constituted a situation
somewhat difficult.
"Well, 'tain't yo' fault ef he hain't," said she at length. The rest of her
revenge she took upon the person of little Sim, whom she alternately
chastened and embraced, to the great and grieved surprise of the latter,
who remained ignorant of any existing or pending relation upon his
part with the methods or the instruments of modern progress.

CHAPTER III
THE VISITOR
The new-comer at the Big House was a well-looking figure as he
advanced up the path toward the white-pillared galleries. In height just
above middle stature, and of rather spare habit of body, alert, compact
and vigorous, he carried himself with a half-military self- respect,
redeemed from aggressiveness by an open candor of face and the
pleasant, forthright gaze of kindly blue-gray eyes. In spite of a certain
gravity of mien, his eyes seemed wont to smile upon occasion, as
witnessed divers little wrinkles at the corners. He was smooth- shaven,
except for a well-trimmed dark mustache; the latter offering a distinct
contrast to the color of his hair, which, apparently not in full keeping
with his years, was lightly sprinkled with gray. Yet his carriage was
assuredly not that of middle age, and indeed, the total of his