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Frank Merriwell Down South, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 39. Frank And Kate |
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_ CHAPTER XXXIX. FRANK AND KATE The boys did not get to Cranston's Cove that night, for Kate Kenyon invited them to stop and take supper at her home, and they did so. Kate's home was much like the rough cabins of other mountain folks, except that flowering vines had been trained to run up the sides and over the door, while two large bushes were loaded with roses in front of the house. Kate's mother was in the doorway as they approached. She was a tall, angular woman, with a stolid, expressionless face. "Har, mammy, is some fellers I brung ter see ye," said this girl. "This un is Mr. Merriwell, an' that un is Mr. Mulloy." The boys lifted their hats, and bowed to the woman as if she were a society queen. She nodded and stared. "What be you-uns doin' 'round these parts?" she asked, pointedly. Frank explained, seeing a look of suspicion and distrust deepening in her face as he spoke. "Huah!" she grunted, when he had finished. "An' what do you-uns want o' me?" "Your daughter invited us to call and take supper," said Frank, coolly. "I ain't uster cookin' flip-flaps fer city chaps, an' I don't b'lieve you kin eat the kind o' fodder we-uns is uster." The boys hastened to assure her that they would be delighted to eat the plainest of food, and their eagerness brought a merry laugh from the lips of the girl. "You-uns is consid'ble amusin'," she said. "You is powerful perlite. I asked 'em to come, mammy. It's no more'n fair pay fer what they done fer me." Then she explained how she had been caught and held by the rocks, and how the boys had seen her from the mountain road and come to her rescue. The mother's face did not soften a bit as she listened, but, when Kate had finished, she said: "They're yore comp'ny. Ask 'em in." So the boys were asked into the cabin, and Kate herself prepared supper. It was a plain meal, but Frank noticed that everything looked neat and clean about the house, and both lads relished the coarse food. Indeed, Barney afterward declared that the corn bread was better than the finest cake he had ever tasted. Frank was particularly happy at the table, and the merry stories he told kept Kate laughing, and, once or twice, brought a grim smile to the face of the woman. After supper they went out in front of the cabin, where they could look up at the wild mass of mountains, the peaks of which were illumined by the rays of the setting sun. Mrs. Kenyon filled and lighted a cob pipe. She sat and puffed away, staring straight ahead in a blank manner. Just how it happened Frank himself could not have told, but Barney fell to talking to the woman in his whimsical way, while Frank and Kate wandered away a short distance, and sat on some stones which had been arranged as a bench in a little nook near Lost Creek. From this position they could hear Barney's rich brogue and jolly laugh as he recounted some amusing yarn, and, when the wind was right, a smell of the black pipe would be wafted to them. "Do you know," said Frank, "this spot is so wild and picturesque that it fascinates me. I should like to stop here two or three days and rest." "Better not," said the girl, shortly. "Why?" asked the boy, in surprise. "Wal, it mought not be healthy." "What do you mean?" "You might be tooken fer revenue." "For revenue? I do not understand." "I wonder ef you air so ignerent, or be you jest makin' it?" "Honestly and truly, I do not understand you." "Wal, I kinder 'low you-uns is all right, but thar's others might not think so. S'pose you know what moonshine is?" "Yes; it is illicitly distilled whiskey." She nodded. "That's right. Wal, ther revenues say thar's moonshine made round these parts. They come round ev'ry little while to spy an' cotch ther folks that makes it." "By revenues you mean the officers of the government?" "Wal, they may be officers, but they're a difrrunt kind than Jock Hawkins." "Who is Jock Hawkins?" "He's ther sheriff down to ther cove. Jock Hawkins knows better'n to come snoopin' 'round, an' he's down on revenues ther same as ther rest o' us is." "Then you do not like the revenue officers?" "Like 'em!" cried the girl, starting up, her eyes seeming to blaze in the dusky twilight. "I hate 'em wuss'n pizen! An' I've got good cause fer hatin' 'em." The boy saw he had touched a tender spot, and he would have turned the conversation in another channel, but she was started, and she went on swiftly: "What right has ther gover'ment to take away anybody's honest means o' earnin' a livin'? What right has ther gover'ment to send spies up har ter peek an' pry an' report on a man as is makin' a little moonshine ter sell that he may be able ter git bread an' drink fer his fam'ly? What right has ther gover'ment ter make outlaws an' crim'nals o' men as wouldn't steal a cent that didn't b'long ter them if they was starvin'?" Frank knew well enough the feeling of most mountain folks toward the revenue officers, and he knew it was a useless task to attempt to show them where they were in the wrong. Kate went on, passionately. "Yes, I has good right to hate ther revenues, an' I do! Didn't they pester my pore old daddy fer makin' moonshine! Didn't they hunt him through ther maountings fer weeks, an' keep him hidin' like a dog! An' didn't they git him cornered at last in Bent Coin's old cabin, an' when he refused ter come out an' surrender, an' kep' 'em off with his gun, didn't they shoot him so he died three days arter in my arms! Hate 'em! Wal, I've got good reason ter hate 'em!" Kate was wildly excited, although she held her voice down, as if she did not wish her mother to hear what she was saying. Frank was sitting so near that he felt her arm quivering against his. "Hate 'em!" continued the girl. "I has more than that to hate 'em fer! Whar is my brother Rufe, ther best boy that ever drored a breath? Ther revenues come fer him, an' they got him. Thar war a trial, an' they proved ez he'd been consarned in makin' moonshine. He war convicted, an' he's servin' his time. Hate 'em! Wal, thar's nuthin' I hate wuss on this earth!" "You have had hard luck," said Frank, by way of saying something. "It's lucky for us that we're not revenues." "Yer right thar," she nodded. "I didn't know but ye war at first, but I changed my mind later." "Why?" "Wal, ye're young, an' you-uns both has honest faces. Revenues is sneaks. They show it in their faces." "I don't suppose they have been able to check the making of moonshine--that is, not to any extent?" She laughed harshly. "Wal, I judge not! Did ye ever hear o' Muriel?" "Who is he?" "A moonshiner." "What of him?" "He makes more whiskey in a week than all ther others in this region afore him made in a month." "He must be smarter than the others before him." "Wal, he's not afeared o' ther revenues, an' he's a mystery to ther men ez works fer him right along." "A mystery?" "Yes." "How so?" "None o' them has seen his face, an' they don't know Who he is. They ain't been able to find out." "And they have tried?" "Wal, Con Bean war shot through ther shoulder fer follerin' Muriel, an' Bink Mower got it in ther leg fer ther same trick." "I rather admire this Muriel," laughed Frank. "He may be in unlawful business, but he seems to be a dandy." "He keeps five stills runnin' all ther time, an' he has a way o' gittin' ther stuff out o' ther maountings an' disposin' of it. But I'm talkin' too much, as Wade would say." "Who is Wade?" "He's Wade Miller, a partic'lar friend o' our'n sence Rufe war tooken by ther revenues. Wade has been good to mammy an' me." "I don't blame him. If I lived near, I might try to bother Wade somewhat." She glanced at him swiftly. It was now duskish, but he was so near that he could see her eyes through the twilight. "I dunno what you-uns means," she said, slowly, her voice falling. "Wade would be powerful bad to bother. He's ugly sometimes, an' he's jellus o' me." "Then Wade is paying attention to you?" "Wal, he's tryin' ter, but I don't jes' snuggle ter him ther way I might ef I liked him right. Thar's something about him, ez I don't edzac'ly like." "That makes it rather one-sided, and makes me think all the more that I should try to bother him if I lived near. Do you know, Miss Kenyon, that you are an exceptionally pretty girl?" "Go 'long! You can't stuff me! Why, I've got red hair!" "Hair that would make you the envy of a society belle. It is the handsomest hair I ever saw." "Now you're makin' fun o' me, an' I don't like that." She drew away as if offended, and he leaned toward her, eager to convince her of his sincerity. "Indeed, I am doing nothing of the sort," he protested. "The moment I saw you to-day I was struck by the beauty of your hair. But that is not the only beautiful feature about you, Miss Kenyon. Your mouth is a perfect Cupid's bow, and your teeth are like pearls, while you have a figure that is graceful and exquisite." She caught her breath. "Never nobody talked to me like that afore," she murmured. "Round har they jes' say, 'Kate, you'd be a rippin' good looker ef it warn't fer that red hair o' yourn.' An' they've said it so much that I've come to hate my hair wuss'n pizen." "Your hair is your crowning beauty. It is magnificent!" "Say!" she whispered, drawing toward him. "What?" "I kinder take to you." Her hand found his, and they were sitting very near together. "I took to you up by ther fall ter-day," she went on, in a low tone. "Now, don't you git skeered, fer I'm not goin' to be foolish, an' I know I'm not book-learned an' refined, same ez your city gals. We kin be friends, can't we?" Frank had begun to regret his openly expressed admiration, but now he said: "To be sure we can be friends, Miss Kenyon." "Partic'ler friends?" "I am sure I shall esteem your friendship very highly." "Wall, partic'ler friends don't call each other miss an' mister. I'll agree ter call you Frank, ef you'll call me Kate." Frank hesitated. "I am going away to-morrow," he thought. "It won't do any harm." "Is it a go?" she asked. "It is a go," he answered. "Frank!" "Kate!" A fierce exclamation close at hand, the cracking of a twig, a heavy step, and then a panther-like figure leaped out of the dusk, and flung itself upon Frank.
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