Part 5 (2/2)
”Last night,” he said, ”I thought ye war both my friends--'n' I war a-ready ter be yourn. Why do ye want ter lie ter me?”
A flush of anger spread over their faces, and the Colonel was framing a scorching retort, when Dale continued:
”No, hit hain't squir'ls; hit's that varmint Tusk Potter. I hain't afeerd ter tell. His shack's back thar;” jerking his thumb over his shoulder, ”or, I'd ought ter say, what's left of hit's thar. He's gone.”
”Did you kill him?” the Colonel asked, looking squarely into his eyes.
”That hain't jest a question one man ought ter be askin' of another man,” he quickly answered. ”But as. .h.i.t turned out, I didn't kill him; 'n' I didn't mean ter. I kind of swore off killin' folks when I war a kid, 'n' hain't done hit much since. But I did mean ter run him outen the country, 'n' burn his cabin. If he'd ruther've stayed 'n' got kilt, that war his business.”
By a common impulse the three started back, Dale leading them some half a mile when they dismounted and threaded their way along an obscure trail. This led up a deep ravine, through which trickled the South Fork of Blacksnake Creek, and eventually brought them out at a small clearing. In the center smouldered the ruins of a cabin, with a few fitful flames still spurting from the ashes and charred log ends.
”You've done well, Dale,” the Colonel observed. ”Bob, leave a notice for him here. He can read, I suppose?”
”He's been going to school for several months,” Bob said, tearing off the back of an envelope and stooping to write.
Dale came close on tiptoe and watched this process over the young man's shoulder. He stood in an att.i.tude of rapt attention and, as the pencil made stroke after stroke of the printed letters, his own finger traced each line in the air, as though he were memorizing their directions and positions. Only after the notice had been pressed on a sharpened stick and placed before the ruined threshold could he leave it. Turning to them he said in an awed voice:
”That's the fu'st writin' I ever seed! What does. .h.i.t mean?”
While Bob repeated it the mountaineer's lips moved after him, as he tried carefully to fit each sentence to the pencil strokes. But from his deep breath of uncertainty at the end it appeared to bring him little satisfaction; and he was turning away when suddenly his frame stiffened and his hand touched Bob's shoulder.
To the east of them stood Snarly k.n.o.b, so called because of its serrated crest resembling a row of teeth from which the lips had been drawn back in an angry snarl. Half way up its almost perpendicular side a spur jutted into the air, and on this a figure stood. Only the hawk-like eyes of Dale could have seen the clenched fists raised high in a gesture of fury, eloquent of a flow of oaths which he knew were being hurled upon the trespa.s.sers in the clearing. The Colonel and Bob, following his steady gaze, saw and understood. Bob's face went white with anger, but the older man's held a troubled look. Dale's face told no story whatsoever.
”I wish he'd fall,” Bob gritted his teeth. ”He's just above the disappearing stream, Colonel!”
”What's the disappearin' stream?” Dale asked.
”It's a good sized creek that comes tearing down and tumbles into a sort of cave. n.o.body knows where it comes out, and if it ever catches a man he's gone. The hole and suction is directly under that spur.”
”Couldn't fetch 'im with one of them new-fangled guns of your'n, could ye?”
”Oh, no, Dale; that spur must be easily two miles.”
”Come,” said the Colonel, ”let us go back. Our mission here is done, and now we must see that it remains well done. Dale, how did you find this place?”
”I came from the schoolhouse,” he answered.
”You mean,” Bob cried, ”that you trailed him half a dozen miles?”
”Yep,” he answered.
”You d.a.m.ned Indian,” the young planter admiringly exclaimed; ”that's the smoothest trick I ever saw!”
”'Tain't no trick,” Dale simply replied. ”I allers find folks that a-way, same as varmints do. Hit's Nature's way.”
”Since we have come together this morning,” the Colonel observed, smiling a frank compliment at Dale's woodcraft, ”we may as well drop the bars, shake hands across the gap, and speak plainly one with the other. First, I want to thank you, sir, for your chivalry yesterday evening to Miss Jane--”
”What's chivalry?” the mountaineer interrupted.
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