The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains | Page 7

back, except for the tendrils about her brow, and coiled,
with the aid of a much-prized "tuckin' comb," at the back of her head in
a knot discriminated as Grecian in civilization. He remarked to her
grandmother that he was a family man himself, and had a daughter as
old, he should say, as Dorinda.
"D'rindy air turned seventeen now," said Mrs. Cayce, disparagingly. "It
'pears like ter me ez the young folks nowadays air awk'ard an' back'ard.
I war married when I war sixteen, - sixteen scant."
The girl felt that she was indeed of advanced years, and the sheriff said
that his daughter was not yet sixteen, and he thought it probable she
weighed more than Dorinda.
He lighted his pipe presently, and tilted his chair back against the wall.
"Yes'm," he said, meditatively, gazing out of the window at the great
panorama, "it's a pretty big spot o' kentry ter hev ter hunt a man over.
Now ef't war one o' the town folks we could make out ter overhaul him
somehows; but a mounting boy, - why, he's ez free ter the hills ez a fox.
I s'pose ye hain't seen him hyar-abouts?"
"I hain't hearn who it air yit," the old woman replied, putting her hand

behind her ear.
"It's Rick Tyler; he hails from this deestric. I won't be 'stonished ef we
ketch him this time. The gov'nor has offered two hunderd dollars
reward fur him; an' I reckon somebody will find it wuth while ter head
him fur us."
He was talking idly. He had no expectation of developments here. He
had only stopped at the house in the first instance for the question
which he had asked at every habitation along the road. It suddenly
occurred to him as polite to include Dorinda in the conversation.
"Ye hain't seen nor hearn of him, I s'pose, hev ye?" inquired the sheriff,
directly addressing her.
As he turned toward her he marked her expression. His own face
changed suddenly. He rose at once.
"Don't trifle with the law, I warn ye," he said, sternly. "Ye hev seen that
man."
Dorinda was standing beside her spinning-wheel, one hand holding the
thread, the other raised to guide the motion. She looked at him, pale
and breathless.
"I hev seen him. I ain't onwillin' ter own it. Ye never axed me afore."
The other members of the party had crowded in from the porch, where
they had been sitting since dinner, smoking their pipes. The officer,
realizing his lapse of vigilance and the loss of his opportunity, was
sharply conscious, too, of their appreciation of his fatuity.
"Whar did ye see him?" he asked.
"I seen him hyar - this mornin'." There was a stir of excitement in the
group. "He kem by on his beastis whilst I war a-ploughin', an' we talked
a passel. An' then he tuk Pete's plough, ez war idle in the turnrow, an'
holped along some; he run a few furrows."

"Which way did he go?" asked the sheriff, breathlessly.
"I dunno," faltered the girl.
"Look-a-hyar!" he thundered, in rising wrath. "Ye'll find yerself under
lock an' key in the jail at Shaftesville, ef ye undertake ter fool with me.
Which way did he go?"
A flush sprang into the girl's excited face. Her eyes flashed.
"Ef ye kin jail me fur tellin' all I know, I can't holp it," she said, with
spirit. "I kin tell no more."
He saw the justice of her position. It did not make the situation easier
for him. Here he had sat eating and drinking and idly talking while the
fugitive, who had escaped by a hair's breadth, was counting miles and
miles between himself and his lax pursuer. This would be heard of in
Shaftesville, - and be a candidate for re‘lection! He beheld already an
exchange of significant glances among his posse. Had he asked that
simple question earlier he might now be on his way back to Shaftesville,
his prisoner braceleted with the idle handcuffs that jingled in his pocket
as he moved.
He caught at every illusive vagary that might promise to retrieve his
error. He declared that she could not say which way Rick Tyler had
taken because he was not gone.
"He's in this house right now!" he exclaimed. He ordered a search, and
the guests, a little while ago so friendly, began exploring every nook
and cranny.
"No, no!" cried the old woman, shrilly, as they tried the door of the
shed-room, which was bolted and barred. "Ye can't tech that thar door.
It can't be opened, - not ef the Gov'nor o' Tennessee war hyar himself,
a-moan-in' an' a-honin' ter git in."
The sheriff's eyes dilated. "Open the door, - I summon ye!" he
proclaimed, with his imperative official