"Joe Hollman, ma'am," he answered; and the girl gave an involuntary
start. The two men who caught the name closed up the gap between the
horses, with suddenly piqued interest.
"Hollman!" exclaimed the girl. "Then, you--" She stopped and flushed.
"I beg your pardon," she said, quickly.
"That's all right," reassured the man. "I know what ye're a-thinkin',
but I hain't takin' no offense. The High Sheriff sent me over. I'm one
of his deputies."
"Were you"--she paused, and added rather timidly--"were you in the
court-house?"
He nodded, and with a brown forefinger traced the scar on his cheek.
"Samson South done that thar with his rifle-gun," he enlightened.
"He's a funny sort of feller, is Samson South."
"How?" she asked.
"Wall, he licked us, an' he licked us so plumb damn hard we was
skeered ter fight ag'in, an' then, 'stid of tramplin' on us, he turned
right 'round, an' made me a deputy. My brother's a corporal in this
hyar newfangled milishy. I reckon this time the peace is goin' ter
last. Hit's a mighty funny way ter act, but 'pears like it works all
right."
Then, at the ridge, the girl's heart gave a sudden bound, for there at
the highest point, where the road went up and dipped again, waited the
mounted figure of Samson South, and, as they came into sight, he waved
his felt hat, and rode down to meet them.
"Greetings!" he shouted. Then, as he leaned over and took Adrienne's
hand, he added: "The Goops send you their welcome." His smile was
unchanged, but the girl noted that his hair had again grown long.
Finally, as the sun was setting, they reached a roadside cabin, and
the mountaineer said briefly to the other men: "You fellows ride on. I want Drennie to stop with me a moment. We'll
join you later."
Lescott nodded. He remembered the cabin of the Widow Miller, and
Horton rode with him, albeit grudgingly.
Adrienne sprang lightly to the ground, laughingly rejecting Samson's
assistance, and came with him to the top of a stile, from which he
pointed to the log cabin, set back in its small yard, wherein geese and
chickens picked industriously about in the sandy earth.
A huge poplar and a great oak nodded to each other at either side of
the door, and over the walls a clambering profusion of honeysuckle vine
contended with a mass of wild grape, in joint effort to hide the white
chinking between the dark logs. From the crude milk-benches to the
sweep of the well, every note was one of neatness and rustic charm.
Slowly, he said, looking straight into her eyes: "This is Sally's cabin, Drennie."