The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains | Page 3

"Pa'son Kelsey jes' stops thar ter the house ter rest his bones awhile, arter he comes down off'n the bald, whar he goes ter pray."
"In the name o' reason," exclaimed the young fellow petulantly, "why can't he pray somewhar else? A man ez hev got ter h'ist hisself on the bald of a mounting ten mile high - except what's lackin' - ter git a purchase on prayer hain't got no religion wuth talkin' 'bout. Sinner ez I am, I kin pray in the valley - way down yander in Tuckaleechee Cove - ez peart ez on enny bald in the Big Smoky. That critter air a powerful aggervatin' contrivance."
Her eyes still shone upon him. "'Pears like ter me ez it air no differ, nohow," she said, with her consolatory cadence. As she again started down the row, she added, glancing over her shoulder and relenting even to explanation, "'T war granny's word ez Mirandy Jane hed ter be l'arned ter cook an' sech. She air risin' thirteen now, an' air toler'ble bouncin' an' spry, an' oughter be some use, ef ever. An' she mought marry when she gits fairly grown, an'," pausing in the turn-row for argument, and looking with earnest eyes at him, as he still stood in the midst of the waving corn, idly holding his plough-handles, where the pistols swung, "ef she did marry, 'pears like ter me ez she would be mightily faulted ef she could n't cook tasty."
There was no reasonable doubt of this proposition, but it failed to convince, and in miserable cogitation he completed another furrow, and met her at the turn-row.
"I s'pose ez Pa'son Kelsey an' yer granny air powerful sociable an' frien'ly," he hazarded, as they stood together.
"I dunno ez them two air partic'lar frien'ly. Pa'son Kelsey air in no wise a sociable critter," said Dorinda, with a discriminating air. "He ain't like Brother Jake Tobin, - though it 'pears like ter me ez his gift in prayer air manifested more survigrus ef ennything." She submitted this diffidently. Having no religion, she felt incompetent to judge of such matters. "'Pears like ter me ez Pa'son Kelsey air more like 'Lijah an' 'Lisha, an' them men, what he talks about cornsider'ble, an' goes out ter meet on the bald."
"He don't meet them men on the bald; they air dead," said Rick Tyler, abruptly.
She looked at him in shocked surprise.
"That's jes' his addling way o' talkin'," continued the young fellow. "He don't mean fur true more'n haffen what he say. He 'lows ez he meets the sperits o' them men on the bald."
Once more she lifted her bright eyes to the shivering vapors, - vague, mysterious, veiling, in solemn silence the barren, awful heights.
An extreme gravity had fallen upon her face. "Did they live in thar life-time up hyar in the Big Smoky, or in the valley kentry?" she asked, in a lowered voice.
"I ain't sure 'bout'n that," he replied, indifferently.
"'Crost the line in the old North State?" she hazarded, exhausting her knowledge of the habitable globe.
"I hearn him read 'bout'n it wunst, but I furgits now."
Still her reverent, beautiful eyes, full of the dreamy sunshine, were lifted to the peak. "It must hev been in the Big Smoky Mountings they lived," she said, with eager credulity, "fur he told me ez the word an' the prophets holped him when Satan kem a-huntin' of him like a pa'tridge on the mounting."
The young fellow turned away, with a gesture of angry impatience.
"Ef he hed ever hed the State o' Tennessee a-huntin' of him he would n't be so feared o' Satan. Ef thar war a warrant fur him in the sher'ff's pocket, an' the gran' jury's true bill fur murder lyin' agin him yander at Shaftesville, an' the gov'nor's reward, two hunderd dollars blood money, on him, he would n't be a-humpin' his bones round hyar so peart, a-shakin' in his shoes fur the fear o' Satan." He laughed, - a caustic, jeering laugh. "Satan's mighty active, cornsiderin' his age, but I'd be willin' ter pit the State o' Tennessee agin him when it kem ter huntin' of folks like a pa'tridge."
The sunshine in the girl's eyes was clouded. They had filled with tears. Still leaning on the plough-handles, she looked at him, with suddenly crimson cheeks and quivering lips. "I dunno how the State o' Tennessee kin git its own cornsent ter be so mean an' wicked ez it air," she said, his helpless little partisan.
Despite their futility, her words comforted him. "An' I hev done nuthin', nohow!" he cried out, in shrill self-justification. "I could no more hender 'Bednego Tynes from shootin' Joel Byers down in his own door'n nuthin' in this worl'. I never even knowed they hed a grudge. "Bednego Tynes, he tole me ez he owed Joel a