The Young Mountaineers | Page 9

her and go forth from Poor Valley never to return, he was
met by the question, "Hain't the mare lived off'n my fields, an' hain't I
gin ye yer grub, an' clothes, an' the roof that kivers ye?"
Thus Pearce Tallam had disputed his right to sell the mare. But it had
more than once occurred to him that the blacksmith would not object to
Jube's buying her.
Hitherto Ike had not coveted Jube's variegated possessions. But now he
wanted money for schooling. It was true he could hardly turn these into
cash, for in this region farm produce of every description is received at
the country stores in exchange for powder, salt, and similar necessities,
and thus there is little need for money, and very little is in circulation.
Still, Ike reflected that he might now and then get a small sum at the
store, or perhaps the schoolmaster might barter "l'arnin'" for the heifer
or the shoats.

His hesitation was not lost upon Jube, who offered a culminating
inducement to clinch the trade. He suddenly stood erect, teetered
fantastically on one foot, as if about to begin to dance, and held out a
glittering silver dollar.
The hammer fell from Ike's hands upon the anvil. "'Twar ye ez Grig
Beemy war a-waitin' fur thar on the mounting in the mist!" he cried out,
recognizing the man's odd gesture, which Jube had unconsciously
imitated.
Doubtless the dollar was offered to Jube afterward, exactly as it had
been offered to him. And Jube had taken it. The imitative monkey
thrust it hastily into his pocket, and came down from his fantastic toe,
and stood soberly enough on his two feet.
"Grig Beemy gin ye that thar dollar," said Ike.
Jube sullenly denied it. "He never, now!"
"His critter hev got no call ter be in dad's barn."
"His critter ain't hyar," protested Jube. "This dollar war gin me in trade
ter the settlemint."
Ike remembered the queer gesture. How could Jube have repeated it if
he had not seen it? He broke into a sarcastic laugh.
"That's how kem ye war so powerful 'commodatin' ez ter feed the
critters. Ye 'lowed ez I wouldn't see the strange beastis, an' then tell dad.
Foolin' me war a part o' yer trade, I reckon."
Jube made no reply.
"Ef ye war ez big ez me, or bigger, I'd thrash ye out'n yer boots fur this
trick. Ye don't want no lenks ter yer chain. Ye jes' want ter be sure o'
keepin' me out'n the barn. Waal--thar air yer lenks."
He caught up the tongs and held the links in the fire with one hand
while he worked the bellows with the other. Then he laid them red-hot

upon the anvil. His rapid blows crushed them to a shapeless mass. "And
now--thar they ain't."
Jube did not linger long. He was in terror lest Ike should tell his father.
But Ike did not think this was his duty. In fact, neither boy imagined
that the affair involved anything more serious than stabling a horse
without the knowledge of the owner of the shelter.
When Ike was alone a little later, an unaccustomed sound caused him to
glance toward the window.
Something outside was passing it. His position was such that he could
not see the object itself, but upon the perpendicular gray wall of the
crag close at hand, and distinctly defined in the yellow flare that
flickered out through the window from the fire of the forge, the gigantic
shadow of a horse's head glided by.
He understood in an instant that Jube had slipped the animal out of the
barn, and was hiding him in the misty woods, expecting that Ike would
acquaint his father with the facts. He had so managed that these facts
would seem lies, if Pearce Tallam should examine the premises and
find no horse there.
All the next day the white mist clung shroud-like to Poor Valley. The
shadows of evening were sifting through it, when Ike's mother went to
the shop, much perturbed because the cow had not come, and she could
not find Jube to send after her.
"Ike kin go, I reckon," said the blacksmith.
So Ike mounted his mare and set out through the thick white vapor. He
had divined the cause of Jube's absence, and experienced no surprise
when on the summit of the mountain he overtook him, riding the
strange horse, on his way to Beemy's house.
"I s'pose that critter air yourn, an' ye mus' hev bought him fur a pound
o' dried peaches, or sech, up thar ter the settlemint," sneered Ike.

Jube was about to reply, but he glanced back into the dense mist with a
changing expression.
"Hesh up!" he said softly. "What's that?"
It was the regular