The Trail of the Lonesome Pine | Page 7

of the fire; and in one
corner, near the two beds in the room, hand- made quilts of many
colours were piled several feet high. On wooden pegs above the door
where ten years before would have been buck antlers and an
old-fashioned rifle, lay a Winchester; on either side of the door were
auger holes through the logs (he did not understand that they were
port-holes) and another Winchester stood in the corner. From the
mantel the butt of a big 44-Colt's revolver protruded ominously. On one
of the beds in the corner he could see the outlines of a figure lying
under a brilliantly figured quilt, and at the foot of it the boy with the
pine dagger had retreated for refuge. From the moment he stooped at
the door something in the room had made him vaguely uneasy, and
when his eyes in swift survey came back to the fire, they passed the
blaze swiftly and met on the edge of the light another pair of eyes
burning on him.
"Howdye!" said Hale.
"Howdye!" was the low, unpropitiating answer.
The owner of the eyes was nothing but a boy, in spite of his length: so
much of a boy that a slight crack in his voice showed that it was just
past the throes of "changing," but those black eyes burned on without
swerving--except once when they flashed at the little girl who, with her
chin in her hand and one foot on the top rung of her chair, was gazing
at the stranger with equal steadiness. She saw the boy's glance, she
shifted her knees impatiently and her little face grew sullen. Hale
smiled inwardly, for he thought he could already see the lay of the land,
and he wondered that, at such an age, such fierceness could be: so
every now and then he looked at the boy, and every time he looked, the
black eyes were on him. The mountain youth must have been almost
six feet tall, young as he was, and while he was lanky in limb he was
well knit. His jean trousers were stuffed in the top of his boots and
were tight over his knees which were well-moulded, and that is rare

with a mountaineer. A loop of black hair curved over his forehead,
down almost to his left eye. His nose was straight and almost delicate
and his mouth was small, but extraordinarily resolute. Somewhere he
had seen that face before, and he turned suddenly, but he did not startle
the lad with his abruptness, nor make him turn his gaze.
"Why, haven't I--?" he said. And then he suddenly remembered. He had
seen that boy not long since on the other side of the mountains, riding
his horse at a gallop down the county road with his reins in his teeth,
and shooting a pistol alternately at the sun and the earth with either
hand. Perhaps it was as well not to recall the incident. He turned to the
old mountaineer.
"Do you mean to tell me that a man can't go through these mountains
without telling everybody who asks him what his name is?"
The effect of his question was singular. The old man spat into the fire
and put his hand to his beard. The boy crossed his legs suddenly and
shoved his muscular fingers deep into his pockets. The figure shifted
position on the bed and the infant at the foot of it seemed to clench his
toy-dagger a little more tightly. Only the little girl was motionless--she
still looked at him, unwinking. What sort of wild animals had he fallen
among?
"No, he can't--an' keep healthy." The giant spoke shortly.
"Why not?"
"Well, if a man hain't up to some devilment, what reason's he got fer
not tellin' his name?"
"That's his business."
"Tain't over hyeh. Hit's mine. Ef a man don't want to tell his name over
hyeh, he's a spy or a raider or a officer looking fer somebody or," he
added carelessly, but with a quick covert look at his visitor--"he's got
some kind o' business that he don't want nobody to know about."

"Well, I came over here--just to--well, I hardly know why I did come."
"Jess so," said the old man dryly. "An' if ye ain't looking fer trouble,
you'd better tell your name in these mountains, whenever you're axed.
Ef enough people air backin' a custom anywhar hit goes, don't hit?"
His logic was good--and Hale said nothing. Presently the old man rose
with a smile on his face that looked cynical, picked up a black lump
and threw it into the fire. It caught fire, crackled, blazed, almost oozed
with oil, and Hale leaned forward and leaned back.
"Pretty good coal!"
"Hain't it, though?" The old man picked