xt769p2w3x2b https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt769p2w3x2b/data/mets.xml Fox, John, 1863-1919. 1909  books b92-106-27901799 English C. Scribner's Sons, : New York : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Mountain Europa  : a Cumberland vendetta : the last Stetson / by John Fox, jr. ; illustrated by F. C. Yohn and Louis Loeb. text Mountain Europa  : a Cumberland vendetta : the last Stetson / by John Fox, jr. ; illustrated by F. C. Yohn and Louis Loeb. 1909 2002 true xt769p2w3x2b section xt769p2w3x2b 














  A MOUNTAIN EUROPA

A CUMBERLAND VENDETTA

   THE LAST STETSON




 














































The scratch of the point on the hard steel


 



  A MOUNTAIN EUROPA


A CUMBERLAND VENDETTA

    THE LAST STETSON




             BY

       JOHN FOX, JR.







         ILLUSTRATED BY
     F. C. YOHN AND LOUIS LOEB







          NEW YORK
     CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SNS
            I 909


 




























     Copnrairr, 190, sr
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS


   A MOUNTAIN EUROPA
(Copyright. 1897. by HARPgR  BROTHFRS


A CUMBERLAND VENDETTA
  Copyright, 1900, by JOHN FOX, JR.




 


CONTENTS



A MOUNTAIN EUROPA.


A CUMBERLAND VENDETTA .


THE LAST STETSON  . -



       PAGE
       1


       115


  .  . 233


 
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            ILLUSTRATIONS



" The scratch of the point on the hard steel " . Frontispiec
                                            PACING
                                            PAGE
"'Why don't ye shoot' ". . . . . . . .      142


"'We hain't fightin' women!"' ".. . . . .     96


" Pray fer yer enemies, Eli ".. . . . . .     262


 
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A MOUNTAIN EUROPA


 





















       TO

JAMES LANE ALLEN




 
I



A     S Clayton rose to his feet in the still air,
,A    the tree-tops began to tremble in the gap
below him, and a rippling ran through the leaves
up the mountain-side. Drawing off his hat he
stretched out his arms to meet it, and his eyes
closed as the cool wind struck his throat and
face and lifted the hair from his forehead.
About him the mountains lay like a tumultuous
sea-the Jellico Spur, stilled gradually on every
side into vague, purple shapes against the broken
rim of the sky, and Pine Mountain and the
Cumberland Range racing in like breakers from
the north. Under him lay Jellico Valley, and
just visible in a wooded cove, whence Indian
Creek crept into sight, was a mining-camp-a
cluster of white cabins from which he had
climbed that afternoon. At that distance the
wagon-road narrowed to a bridle-path, and the
figure moving slowly along it and entering the
forest at the base of the mountain was shrunk
to a toy. For a moment Clayton stood with
his face to the west, drinking in the air; then
tightening his belt, he caught the pliant body of
                      3


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



a sapling and swung loose from the rock. As
the tree flew back, his dog sprang after him.
The descent was sharp. At times he was forced
to cling to the birch-tops till they lay flat on the
mountain-side.
  Breathless, he reached at last a bowlder from
which the path was easy to the valley below, and
he leaned quivering against the soft rug of moss
and lichens that covered it. The shadows had
crept from the foot of the mountains, darkening
the valley, and lifting up the mountain-side be-
neath him a long, wavering line in which met
the cool, deep green of the shade and the shining
bronze where the sunlight still lay. Lazily fol-
lowing this line, his eye caught two moving
shadows that darted jagged shapes into the sun-
light and as quickly withdrew them. As the
road wound up toward him, two figures were
soon visible through the undergrowth. Pres-
ently a head bonneted in blue rose above the
bushes, and Clayton's half-shut eyes opened
wide and were fixed with a look of amused ex-
pectancy where a turn of the path must bring
rider and beast into plain sight. Apparently
some mountain girl, wearied by the climb or in
a spirit of fun, had mounted her cow while driv-
ing it home; and with a smile at the thought
of the confusion he would cause her, Clayton
stepped around the bowlder and waited. With
                      4


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



the slow, easy swing of climbing cattle, the beast
brought its rider into view. A bag of meal lay
across its shoulders, and behind this the girl-
for she was plainly young-sat sidewise, with
her bare feet dangling against its flank. Her
face was turned toward the valley below, and
her loosened bonnet half disclosed a head of
bright yellow hair.
  Catching sight of Clayton, the beast stopped
and lifted its head, not the meek, patient face he
expected to see, but a head that was wrinkled
and vicious-the head of a bull. Only the sud-
den remembrance of a dead mountain custom
saved him from utter amazement. He had
heard that when beasts of burden were scarce,
cows, and especially bulls, were worked in
ploughs and ridden by the mountaineers, even by
the women. But this had become a tradition,
the humor of which greater prosperity and con-
tact with a new civilization had taught even the
mountain people to appreciate. The necessities
of this girl were evidently as great as her fear
of ridicule seemed small. When the brute
stopped, she began striking him in the flank with
her bare heel, without looking around, and as
he paid no attention to such painless goading,
she turned with sudden impatience and lifted a
switch above his shoulders. The stick was ar-
rested in mid-air when she saw Clayton, and
                      S


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



then dropped harmlessly. The quick fire in her
eyes died suddenly away, and for a moment the
two looked at each other with mutual curiosity,
but only for a moment. There was something
in Clayton's gaze that displeased her. Her
face clouded, and she dropped her eyes.
  "  'long," she said, in a low tone. But the
bull had lowered his head, and was standing
with feet planted apart and tail waving uneasily.
The girl looked up in alarm.
  "Watch out thar ! " she called out, sharply.
"Call that dog off-quick! "
  Clayton turned, but his dog sprang past
him and began to bark. The bull, a lean,
active, vicious-looking brute, answered with a
snort.
  " Call him off, I tell ye ! " cried the girl, an-
grily, springing to the ground. " Git out o' the
way. Don't you see he's a-comin' at ye "
  The dog leaped nimbly into the bushes, and
the maddened bull was carried on by his own
impetus toward Clayton, who, with a quick
spring, landed in safety in a gully below the
road. When he picked himself up from the
uneven ground where he had fallen, the beast
had disappeared around the bowlder. The
bag had fallen, and had broken open, and some
of the meal was spilled on the ground. The
girl, flushed and angry, stood above it.
                     6


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



  " Look thar, now," she said. "See whut
you've done. Why'n't ye call that dog off  "
  " I couldn't," said Clayton, politely. " He
wouldn't come. I'm sorry, very sorry."
  " Can't ye manage yer own dog " she asked,
half contemptuously.
  " Not always."
  "Then ye oughter leave him to home,
and not let him go round a-skeerin' folks'
beastes."  With a little gesture of indignation
she stooped and began scooping up the meal in
her hand.
  " Let me help you," said Clayton. The girl
looked up in surprise.
  " You go 'way," she said.
  But Clayton stayed, watching her helplessly.
He wanted to carry the bag for her, but she
swung it to her shoulder, and moved away. He
followed her around the bowlder, where his late
enemy was browsing peacefully on sassafras-
bushes.
  " You stay thar now," said the girl, " and
keep that dog back."
  "Won't you let me help you get up" he
asked.
  Without answering, the girl sprang lightly to
the bull's back. Once only she looked around
at him. He took off his hat, and a puzzled ex-
pression came into her face. Them, witkout a
                     7


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



word or a nod, she rode away. Clayton watched
the odd pair till the bushes hid them.
  " Europa, by Jove! " he exclaimed, and he
sat down in bewilderment.
  She was so very odd a creature, so different
from the timid mountain women who shrank
with averted faces almost into the bushes when
he met them. She had looked him straight in
the face with steady eyes, and had spoken as
though her sway over mountain and road were
undisputed and he had been a wretched tres-
passer. She paid no attention to his apologies,
and she scorned his offers of assistance. She
seemed no more angered by the loss of the meal
than by his incapacity to manage his dog,
which seemed to typify to her his general worth-
lessness. He had been bruised by his fall, and
she did not even ask if he were hurt. Indeed,
she seemed not to care, and she had ridden away
from him as though he were worth no more con-
sideration than the stone under him.
  He was amused, and a trifle irritated. How
could there be such a curious growth in the
mountains he questioned, as he rose and con-
tinued the descent. There was an unusual
grace about her, in spite of her masculine air.
Her features were regular, the nose straight and
delicate, the mouth resolute, the brow broad,
and the eyes intensely blue, perhaps tender,
                      8


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



when not flashing with anger, and altogether
without the listless expression he had marked
in other mountain women, and which, he had
noticed, deadened into pathetic hopelessness
later in life. Her figure was erect, and her
manner, despite its roughness, savored of some-
thing high-born. Where could she have got
that bearing She belonged to a race whose de-
scent, he had heard, was unmixed English; upon
whose lips lingered words and forms of speech
that Shakespeare had heard and used. Who
could tell what blood ran in her veins
  Musing, he had come almost unconsciously
to a spur of the mountains under which lay the
little mining-camp. It was six o'clock, and the
miners, grim and black, each with a pail in hand
and a little oil-lamp in his cap, were going down
from work. A shower had passed over the
mountains above him, and the last sunlight, com-
ing through a gap in the west, struck the rising
mist and turned it to gold. On a rock which
thrust from the mountain its gray, sombre face,
half embraced by a white arm of the mist, Clay-
ton saw the figure of a woman. He waved his
hat, but the figure stood motionless, and he
turned into the woods toward the camp.
  It was the girl; and when Clayton disappeared
she too turned and went on her way. She had
stopped there because she knew he must pass a
                      9


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



point where she might see him again. She was
little less indifferent than she seemed; her motive
was little more than curiosity. She had never
seen that manner of man before. Evidently he
was a " furriner " from the " settlemints." No
man in the mountains had a smooth, round face
like his, or wore such a queer hat, such a soft,
white shirt, and no " galluses," or carried such
a shiny, weak-looking stick, or owned a dog
that he couldn't make mind him. She was not
wholly contemptuous, however. She had felt
vaguely the meaning of his politeness and defer-
ence. She was puzzled and pleased, she scarce-
ly knew why.
  " He was mighty accomodatin'," she thought.
" But whut," she asked herself as she rode
slowly homeward-" whut did he take off his hat
fer "



I0




 
II



LIGHTS      twinkled  from  every cabin as
     Clayton passed through the camp. Out-
side the kitchen doors, miners, bare to the waist,
were bathing their blackened faces and bodies,
with children, tattered and unclean, but health-
ful, playing about them; within, women in
loose gowns, with sleeves uprolled and with dis-
ordered hair, moved like phantoms through
clouds of savory smoke. The commissary was
brilliantly lighted. At a window close by im-
provident miners were drawing the wages of
the day, while their wives waited in the store
with baskets unfilled. In front of the commis-
sary a crowd of negroes were talking, laugh-
ing, singing, and playing pranks like children.
Here two, with grinning faces, were squared off,
not to spar, but to knock at each other's tattered
hat; there two more, with legs and arms indis-
tinguishable, were wrestling; close by was the
sound of a mouth-harp, a circle of interested
spectators, and, within, two dancers pitted
against each other, and shuffling with a zest that
labor seemed never to affect.
                      I I


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



  Immediately after supper Clayton went to his
room, lighted his lamp, and sat down to a map
he was tracing. His room was next the ground,
and a path ran near the open window. As he
worked, every passer-by would look curiously
within. On the wall above his head a pair of
fencing-foils were crossed under masks. Be-
low these hung two pistols, such as courteous
Claude Duval used for side-arms. Opposite
were two old rifles, and beneath them two stone
beer-mugs, and a German student's pipe ab-
surdly long and richly ornamented. A mantel
close by was filled with curiosities, and near it
hung a banjo unstrung, a tennis-racket, and a
blazer of startling colors. Plainly they were
relics of German student life, and the odd con-
trast they made with the rough wall and ceiling
suggested a sharp change in the fortunes of the
young worker beneath. Scarcely six months
since he had been suddenly summoned home
from Germany. The reason was vague, but
having read of recent American failures, notably
in Wall Street, he knew what had happened.
Reaching New York, he was startled by the
fear that his mother was dead, so gloomy was
the house, so subdued his sister's greeting, and
so worn and sad his father's face. The trouble,
however, was what he had guessed, and he had
accepted it with quiet resignation. The finan-
                      12


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



cial wreck seemed complete; but one resource,
however, was left. Just after the war Clayton's
father had purchased mineral lands in the
South, and it was with the idea of developing
these that he had encouraged the marked scien-
tific tastes of his son, and had sent him to a Ger-
man university.  In view of his own disaster,
and the fact that a financial tide was swelling
southward, his forethought seemed an inspira-
tion.  To this resource Clayton turned eagerly;
and after a few weeks at home, which were
made intolerable by straitened circumstances,
and the fancied coldness of friend and acquaint-
ance, he was hard at work in the heart of the
Kentucky mountains.
  The transition from the careless life of a stu-
dent was swift and bitter; it was like beginning
a new life with a new identity, though Clayton
suffered less than he anticipated.  He had be-
come interested from the first. There was
nothing in the pretty glen, when he came, but
a mountaineer's cabin and a few gnarled old
apple-trees, the roots of which checked the
musical flow of a little stream. Then the
air was filled with the tense ring of hammer
and saw, the mellow echoes of axes, and the
shouts of ox-drivers from the forests, indignant
groans from the mountains, and a little town
sprang up before his eyes, and cars of shin-
                       '3


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



ing coal wound slowly about the mountain-
side.
  Activity like this stirred his blood. Busy
from dawn to dark, he had no time to grow mis-
erable. His work was hard, to be sure, but it
made rest and sleep a luxury, and it had the new
zest of independence; he even began to take in
it no little pride when he found himself an es-
sential part of the quick growth going on.
When leisure came, he could take to woods
filled with unknown birds, new forms of insect
life, and strange plants and flowers. With
every day, too, he was more deeply stirred by
the changing beauty of the mountains-hidden
at dawn with white mists, faintly veiled through
the day with an atmosphere that made him think
of Italy, and enriched by sunsets of startling
beauty.  But strongest of all was the interest
he found in the odd human mixture about him-
the simple, good-natured darkies who slouched
past him, magnificent in physique and pictur-
esque with rags; occasional foreigners just from
Castle Garden, with the hope of the New
World still in their faces; and now and then a
gaunt mountaineer stalking awkwardly in the
rear of the march toward civilization. Grad-
ually it had dawned upon him that this last, si-
lent figure, traced through Virginia, was closely
linked by blood and speech with the common
                      14


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



people of England, and, moulded perhaps by
the influences of feudalism, was still strikingly
unchanged; that now it was the most distinctively
national remnant on American soil, and symbo-
lized the development of the continent, and that
with it must go the last suggestions of the
pioneers, with their hardy physiques, their
speech, their manners and customs, their simple
architecture and simple mode of life. It was
soon plain to him, too, that a change was being
wrought at last-the change of destruction.
The older mountaineers, whose bewildered eyes
watched the noisy signs of an unintelligible civi-
lization, were passing away. Of the rest, some,
sullen and restless, were selling their home-
steads and following the spirit of their fore-
fathers into a new wilderness; others, leaving
their small farms in adjacent valleys to go to
ruin, were gaping idly about the public works,
caught up only too easily by the vicious current
of the incoming tide. In a century the moun-
taineers must be swept away, and their ignorance
of the tragic forces at work among them gave
them an unconscious pathos that touched Clay-
ton deeply.
  As he grew to know them, their historical
importance yielded to a genuine interest in the
people themselves. They were densely igno-
rant, to be sure; but they were natural, simple,
                      is


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



and hospitable. Their sense of personal worth
was high, and their democracy-or aristocracy,
since there was no distinction of caste-absolute.
For generations, son had lived like father in
an isolation hardly credible. No influence save
such as shook the nation ever reached them.
The Mexican war, slavery, and national politics
of the first half-century were still present issues,
and each old man would give his rigid, indi-
vidual opinion sometimes with surprising humor
and force. He went much among them, and
the rugged old couples whom he found in the
cabin porches so much alike at first-quickly
became distinct with a quaint individuality.
Among young or old, however, he had found
nothing like the half-wild young creature he had
met on the mountain that day. In her a type
had crossed his path-had driven him from it,
in truth-that seemed unique and inexplicable.
He had been little more than amused at first,
but a keen interest had been growing in him with
every thought of her. There was an indefinable
charm about the girl. She gave a new and sud-
den zest to his interest in mountain life; and
while he worked, the incidents of the encounter
on the mountain came minutely back to him till
he saw her again as she rode away, her supple
figure swaying with every movement of the
beast, and dappled with quivering circles of sun-
                      i6


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



light from the bushes, her face calm, but still
flushed with color, and her yellow hair shaking
about her shoulders-not lustreless and flaxen,
as hair was in the mountains, he remembered,
but catching the sunlight like gold.
  Almost unconsciously he laid aside his pencil
and leaned from his window to lift his eyes to
the dark mountain he had climbed that day.
The rude melody of an old-fashioned hymn was
coming up the glen, and he recognized the thin,
quavering voice of an old mountaineer, Uncle
Tommy Brooks, as he was familiarly known,
whose cabin stood in the midst of the camp, a
pathetic contrast to the smart new houses that
had sprung around it. The old man had lived
in the glen for nearly three-quarters of a cen-
tury, and he, if any one, must know the girl.
With the thought, Clayton sprang through the
window, and a few minutes later was at the
cabin. The old man sat whittling in the porch,
joining in the song with which his wife was
crooning a child to sleep within. Clayton easily
identified Europa, as he had christened her; the
simple mention of her means of transport was
sufficient.
  " Ridin' a bull, was she " repeated the old
man, laughing. " Well, that was Easter
Hicks, old Bill Hicks' gal. She's a sort o' con-
nection o' mine. Me and Bill married cousins.
                     I7


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



She's a cur'us critter as ever I seed. She don'
seem to take atter her dad nur her mammy
nother, though Bill allus had a quar streak in 'im,
and was the wust man I ever seed when he was
disguised by licker. Whar does she live Oh,
up thar, right on top o' Wolf Mountain, with
her mammy."
  " Alone "
  "Yes; fer her dad ain't thar. No; 'n' he
ain't dead. I'll tell ye"-the old man lowered
his tone-" thar used to be a big lot o' moon-
shinin' done in these parts, 'n' a raider come
hyeh to see 'bout it. Well, one mornin' he
was found layin' in the road with a bullet through
him. Bill was s'picioned. Now, I ain't a-sayin'
as Bill done it, but when a whole lot more rode
up thar on hosses one night, they didn't find Bill.
They hain't found him yit, fer he's out in the
mountains somewhar a-hidin'."
  "How do they get along without him"
asked Clayton.
  " Why, the gal does the work. She ploughs
with that bull, and does the plantin' herself.
She kin chop wood like a man. An' as fer
shootin', well, when huntin's good 'n' thar's
shootin'-matches round-about, she don't have to
buy much meat."
  " It's a wonder some young fellow hasn't mar-
ried her. I suppose, though, she's too young."
                     i 8


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



  The old man laughed. " Thar's been many
a lively young fellow that's tried it, but she's
hard to ketch as a wildcat. She won't have
nothin' to do with other folks, 'n' she nuver
comes down hyeh into the valley, 'cept to git her
corn groun' er to shoot a turkey. Sherd Raines
goes up to see her, and folks say he air tryin' to
git her into the church. But the gal won't go
nigh a meetinghouse. She air a cur'us critter,"
he concluded emphatically, " shy as a deer till
she air stirred up, and then she air a caution;
mighty gentle sometimes, and ag'in stubborn as
a mule."
  A shrill, infantile scream came from within,
and the old man paused a moment to listen.
  " Ye didn't know I had a great-grandchild,
did ye That's it a-hollerin'. Talk about
Easter bein' too young to merry! Why hit's
mother air two year younger'n Easter. Jes
come in hyeh a minit." The old mountaineer
rose and led the way into the cabin. Clayton
was embarrassed at first. On one bed lay a
rather comely young woman with a child by her
side; on a chest close by sat another with her
lover, courting in the most open and primitive
manner. In the corner an old grandam dozed
with her pipe, her withered face just touched by
the rim of the firelight. Near a rectangular
hole in the wall which served the purpose of a
                     '9


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



window, stood a girl whose face, silhouetted
against the darkness, had in it a curious mixture
of childishness and maturity.
  " Whar's the baby " asked Uncle Tommy.
  Somebody outside was admiring it, and the
young girl leaned through the window and lifted
the infant within.
  " Thar's a baby fer ye! " exclaimed the old
mountaineer, proudly, lifting it in the air and
turning its face to the light. But the child was
peevish and fretful, and he handed it back
gently. Clayton was wondering which was the
mother, when, to his amazement, almost to his
confusion, the girl lifted the child calmly to
her own breast. The child was the mother
of the child. She was barely fifteen, with the
face of a girl of twelve, and her motherly
manner had struck him as an odd contrast.
He felt a thrill of pity for the young mother
as he called to mind the aged young wives
he had seen who were haggard and care-worn
at thirty, and who still managed to live to an
old age. He was indefinably glad that Easter
had escaped such a fate. When he left the
cabin, the old man called after him from the
door:
  " Thar's goin' to be a shootin'-match among
the boys to-morrer, 'n' I jedge that Easter '11 be
on hand. She al'ays is."
                     20


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



  " Is that so" said Clayton. "XWeli, I'll
look out for it."
  The old mountaineer lowered his voice.
  " Ye hain't thinkin' about takin' a wife, air
ye "
  " No, no !
  " Well, ef ye air," said the old man, slowly,
"I'm a-thinkin' yu'll have to buck up ag'in
Sherd Raines, fer ef I hain't like a goose
a-pickin' o' grass by moonshine, Sherd air atter
the gal fer hisself, not fer the Lord. Yes," he
continued, after a short, dry laugh; " 'n' mebbe
ye'll hav to keep an eye open fer old Bill. They
say that he air mighty low down, 'n' kind o'
sorry 'n' skeery, for I reckon Sherd Raines hev
told him he hav got to pay the penalty fer takin'
a human life; but I wouldn't sot much on his
bein' sorry ef he was mad at me and had licker
in him. He hates furriners, and he has a crazy
idee that they is all raiders 'n' lookin' fer him."
  " I don't think I'll bother him," said Clayton,
turning away with a laugh. " Good-nightI "
With a little cackle of incredulity, the old man
closed the door. The camp had sunk now to
perfect quiet; but for the faint notes of a banjo
far up the glen, not a sound trembled on the
night air.
  The rim of the moon was just visible above
the mountain on which Easter-what a pretty
                      2 1


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



name that was!-had flashed upon his vision
with such theatric effect. As its brilliant light
came slowly down the dark mountain-side, the
mists seemed to loosen their white arms, and to
creep away like ghosts mistaking the light for
dawn. With the base of the mountain in dense
shadow, its crest, uplifted through the vapors,
seemed poised in the air at a startling height.
Yet it was near the crest that he had met her.
Clayton paused a moment, when he reached his
door, to look again. Where in that cloud-land
could she live



22




 
III



W     HEN the great bell struck the hour of
VT the next noon, mountaineers with long
rifles across their shoulders were moving
through the camp. The glen opened into a
valley, which, blocked on the east by Pine
Mountain, was thus shut in on every side by
wooded heights. Here the marksmen gath-
ered. All were mountaineers, lank, bearded,
men, coatless for the most part, and dressed in
brown home-made jeans, slouched, formless
hats, and high, coarse boots. Sun and wind had
tanned their faces to sympathy, in color, with
their clothes, which had the dun look of the soil.
They seemed peculiarly a race of the soil, to
have sprung as they were from the earth, which
had left indelible stains upon them. All car-
ried long rifles, old-fashioned and home-made,
some even with flint-locks. It was Saturday,
and many of their wives had come with them
to the camp. These stood near, huddled into a
listless group, with their faces half hidden in
check bonnets of various colors. A barbaric
love of color was apparent in bonnet, shawl,
                     23


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



and gown, and surprisingly in contrast with such
crudeness of taste was a face when fully seen,
so modest was it. The features were always
delicately wrought, and softened sometimes
by a look of patient suffering almost into refine-
ment.
  On the other side of the contestants were the
people of the camp, a few miners with pipes
lounging on the ground, and women and girls,
who returned the furtive glances of the moun-
tain women with stares of curiosity and low
laughter.
  Clayton had been delayed by his work, and
the match was already going on when he reached
the grounds.
  " You've missed mighty fine shootin'," said
Uncle Tommy Brooks, who was squatted on
the ground near the group of marksmen.
" Sherd's been a-beatin' ever'body. I'm afeard
Easter hain't a-comin'. The match is 'most over
now. Ef she'd been here, I don't think Sherd
would 'a' got the ch'ice parts o' that beef so
easy."
  "Which is he " asked Clayton.
  "That tall feller thar loadin' his gun."
  "What did you say his name was "
  "Sherd Raines, the feller that's goin' to be
our circuit-rider."
  He remembered the peculiar name. So this
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was Easter's lover.  Clayton looked at the
young mountaineer, curiously at first, and then
with growing interest. His quiet air of author-
ity among his fellows was like a birthright; it
seemed assumed and accepted unconsciously.
His face was smooth, and he was fuller in figure
than the rest, but still sinewy and lank, though
not awkward; his movements were too quick and
decisive for that. With a casual glance Clayton
had wondered what secret influence could have
turned to spiritual things a man so merely ani-
mal-like in face and physique; but when the
mountaineer thrust back his hat, elemental
strength and seriousness were apparent in the
square brow, the steady eye, the poise of the
head, and in lines around the strong mouth and
chin in which the struggle for self-mastery had
been traced.
  As the mountaineer thrust his ramrod back
into its casing, he glanced at the woods behind
Clayton, and said something to his companions-
They, too, raised their eyes, and at the same
moment the old mountaineer plucked Clayton-
by the sleeve.
   " Thar comes Easter now."
   The girl had just emerged from the edge of
the forest, and with a rifle on one shoulder and
a bullet-pouch and powder-horn swung from the
other, w as slowly coming down the path.
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  " Why, how air ye, Easter " cried the old
man, heartily.  "Goin' to shoot, air ye  I
'lowed ye wouldn't miss this. Ye air mighty
late, though."
  " Oh, I only wanted a turkey," said the girl.
  " Vell, I'm a-comin' up to eat dinner with
ye to-morrer," he answered, with a laugh, " fer
I know ye'll git one. Y'u're on hand fer most
o' the matches now. Wild turkeys must be
a-gittin' skeerce."
  The girl smiled, showing a row of brilliant
teeth between her thin, red lips, and, without
answering, moved toward the group of moun-
tain women. Clayton had raised his hand to
his hat when the old man addressed her, but he
dropped it quickly to his side in no little embar-
rassment when the girl carelessly glanced over
him with no sign of recognition. Her rifle was
an old flint-lock of light build, but nearly six
feet in length, with a shade of rusty tin two feet
long fastened to the barrel to prevent the sun-
light from affecting the marksman's aim. She
wore a man's hat, which, with unintentional co-
quetry, was perched on one side of her head.
Her hair was short, and fell as it pleased about
her neck. She was bare-footed, and apparently
clad in a single garment, a blue homespun gown,
gathered loosely at her uncorseted waist, and
showing the outline of the bust and every move-
                      26


 
A MOUNTAIN EUROPA



ment of the tall, supple form beneath. Her ap-
pearance had quickened the interest of the spec-
tators, and apparently was a disturbing influ-
ence among the contestants, who were gathered
together, evidently in dispute. From  their
glances Clayton saw that Easter was the sub-
ject of it.
  " I guess they don't want her to shoot-them
that hain't won nothin'," said Uncle Tommy.
  " She hev come in late," Clayton heard
one say, " 'n' she oughtn' to shoot. Thar hain't
no chance shootin' ag'in her noways, 'n' I'm in
favor o' barrin' her out."
  " Oh no; let her shoot "-the voice was
Raines's. " Thar hain't nothin' but a few tur-
keys left, 'n' ye'd better bar out the gun 'stid o'
the gal, anyway, fer that gun kin outshoot any-
thing in the mountains."
  The girl had been silently watching the group
as if puzzled; and when Raines spoke her face
tightened with sudden decision, and she strode
swiftly toward them in time to overhear the
young mountaineer's last words.
  " So hit's the gun, is hit, Sherd Raines"
The crowd turned, and Raines shrank a little
as the girl faced him with flashing eyes. " So
hit's the gun, is hit Hit is a good gun, but ye
ought to be ashamed to take all the credit 'way
from me. But ef you air so sartain hit's the
                     27


 
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gun," she continued, " I'll shoot yourn, 'n' y'u
kin hev mine ef I don't beat ye with yer