Part 8 (2/2)
How do ye make 'em?”
”Oh,” Brent laughed, ”screws, and nuts, and hammers, and things. But I don't make trains, old fellow; I'm just making the survey!”
”Good-bye everybody!” Bob gurgled, swinging into the saddle. The Colonel called him sternly back.
”Now, Bob,” he whispered, stepping out to the tanbark drive, ”you've no right to leave me like this, sir. I can't put up with it, I tell you!
Why, G.o.d bless my soul, the fellow hasn't a rag except what's on his back! Must I ask him to sleep in the stable, sir? Those mountain people are sensitive to the very core, you know that, and his feelings would be immeasurably hurt if he suspected I complain of his clothes. But, Bob, it's impossible! You're both of a size; help an old man out--there's a good fellow!”
”I'll do anything but stay here and disgrace myself,” Bob a.s.sured him.
”Tactfully, sir, tactfully,” the Colonel warned.
”Trust me to do it tactfully,” Bob whispered. ”I'm not out to get shot.”
And turning to the porch he called: ”Dale, like to ride over and meet my family? You might get a word with Miss Jane about the school, too!”
There was no reply to this except a quick step toward the old white mare.
”Will hit be all right ter leave my rifle hyar, Cunnel?” he asked, with one foot in the stirrup.
”Certainly, sir,” that gentleman gave cheery acquiescence. ”But take my horse. Your own seems tired.”
”Yourn _air_ faster,” he nodded, pa.s.sing unnoticed Lucy's invitation to be caressed and rising into the Colonel's saddle. There was something pathetic in the wistful way she looked after him, whinnying twice or three times in a sudden panic of apprehension. The old gentleman stroked her nose, murmuring:
”I don't think he ought to have done it just that way, old faithful. But if I read the signs correctly you'd better get used to it now. There'll be plenty more times.”
Bob called from the gate: ”Send Zack over; I want my hair cut!” And the Colonel, understanding, waved his hand as they again cantered away--Dale in advance, and the young planter evidently cautioning him to spare his horse in the noon hour heat.
”Who's Bob's anthropoid friend?” Brent asked, as he and the Colonel now stretched in their chairs.
”A young man from the mountains, violently in search of an education. He will be asking you every question in the range of thought, Brent, and I hope you will have patience with him. It's such a pity to see one so hungry for knowledge--really starving for it--while the whole wide board before him holds more than enough for all!”
”He's welcome to banquet on my feast of reason, but he'll get mighty tired of it. Do you think he's serious?”
The Colonel smiled at this from Brent.
”It has been my observation that believing in people usually brings out their best,” he answered, ”and so I think he is serious. I hope you will, also.”
”You bet I will,” Brent cordially agreed, burying his nose in the mint.
”He's all right;--I like him!”
After a moment of affectionate contemplation of his own julep, the Colonel said:
”Bob's household will be over to dinner tonight. I trust you can be with us, sir!”
Before he could reply, Miss Liz appeared in the doorway, and both men arose with courtly bows. When Brent had arranged a place for her--and the Colonel had slipped into the house holding the telltale goblet under his coat--this severe lady, balancing on the chair with prim nicety, raised her lorgnette and observed:
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