The Trail of the Lonesome Pine

The Trail of the Lonesome Pine,
by John Fox, Jr.

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Title: The Trail of the Lonesome Pine
Author: John Fox, Jr.

Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5122] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on May 4, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAIL OF
THE LONESOME PINE ***

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THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE
BY
JOHN FOX, JR.
ILLUSTRATED BY F. C. YOHN

To F. S.

THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE
I
She sat at the base of the big tree--her little sunbonnet pushed back, her
arms locked about her knees, her bare feet gathered under her crimson
gown and her deep eyes fixed on the smoke in the valley below. Her
breath was still coming fast between her parted lips. There were tiny

drops along the roots of her shining hair, for the climb had been steep,
and now the shadow of disappointment darkened her eyes. The
mountains ran in limitless blue waves towards the mounting sun--but at
birth her eyes had opened on them as on the white mists trailing up the
steeps below her. Beyond them was a gap in the next mountain chain
and down in the little valley, just visible through it, were trailing blue
mists as well, and she knew that they were smoke. Where was the great
glare of yellow light that the "circuit rider" had told about--and the
leaping tongues of fire? Where was the shrieking monster that ran
without horses like the wind and tossed back rolling black plumes all
streaked with fire? For many days now she had heard stories of the
"furriners" who had come into those hills and were doing strange things
down there, and so at last she had climbed up through the dewy
morning from the cove on the other side to see the wonders for herself.
She had never been up there before. She had no business there now,
and, if she were found out when she got back, she would get a scolding
and maybe something worse from her step-mother--and all that trouble
and risk for nothing but smoke. So, she lay back and rested--her little
mouth tightening fiercely. It was a big world, though, that was spread
before her and a vague awe of it seized her straightway and held her
motionless and dreaming. Beyond those white mists trailing up the hills,
beyond the blue smoke drifting in the valley, those limitless blue waves
must run under the sun on and on to the end of the world! Her dead
sister had gone into that far silence and had brought back wonderful
stories of that outer world: and she began to wonder more than ever
before whether she would ever go into it and see for herself what was
there. With the thought, she rose slowly to her feet, moved slowly to
the cliff that dropped sheer ten feet aside from the trail, and stood there
like a great scarlet flower in still air. There was the way at her feet--that
path that coiled under the cliff and ran down loop by loop through
majestic oak and poplar and masses of rhododendron. She drew a long
breath and stirred uneasily--she'd better go home now--but the path had
a snake-like charm for her and still she stood, following it as far down
as she could with her eyes. Down it went, writhing this way and that to
a spur that had been swept bare by forest fires. Along this spur it
travelled straight for a while and, as her eyes eagerly followed it to
where it sank sharply into a covert of maples, the little