The open horizon towards the west had taken a warmer color from the already slanting sun when Mr. Hamlin, having rested his horse, turned to that direction. He had noticed that the wood was thinner there, and, pushing forward, he was presently rewarded by the sound of far-off wheels, and knew he must be near the high-road that the boy had spoken of. Having given up his previous intention of crossing the stream, there seemed nothing better for him to do than to follow the truants advice and take the road back to Green Springs. Yet he was loath to leave the wood, halting on its verge, and turning to look back into its charmed recesses. Once or twiceperhaps because he recalled the words of the poemthat yellowish sea of ferns had seemed instinct with hidden life, and he had even fancied, here and there, a swaying of its plumed crests. Howbeit, he still lingered long enough for the open sunlight into which he had obtruded to point out the bravery of his handsome figure. Then he wheeled his horse, the light glanced from polished double bit and bridle-fripperies, caught his red sash and bullion buttons, struck a parting flash from his silver spurs, and he was gone!
For a moment the light streamed unbrokenly through the wood. And then it could be seen that the yellow mass of undergrowth HAD moved with the passage of another figure than his own. For ever since he had entered the shade, a woman, shawled in a vague, shapeless fashion, had watched him wonderingly, eagerly, excitedly, gliding from tree to tree as he advanced, or else dropping breathlessly below the fronds of fern whence she gazed at him as between parted fingers. When he wheeled she had run openly to the west, albeit with hidden face and still clinging shawl, and taken a last look at his retreating figure. And then, with a faint but lingering sigh, she drew back into the shadow of the wood again and vanished also.
CHAPTER III
At the end of twenty minutes Mr. Hamlin reined in his mare. He had just observed in the distant shadows of a by-lane that intersected his road the vanishing flutter of two light print dresses. Without a moments hesitation he lightly swerved out of the high-road and followed the retreating figures.
As he neared them, they seemed to be two slim young girls, evidently so preoccupied with the rustic amusement of edging each other off the grassy border into the dust of the track that they did not perceive his approach. Little shrieks, slight scufflings, and interjections of Cynthy! you limb! Quit that, Eunice, now! and I just call that real mean! apparently drowned the sound of his canter in the soft dust. Checking his speed to a gentle trot, and pressing his horse close beside the opposite fence, he passed them with gravely uplifted hat and a serious, preoccupied air. But in that single, seemingly conventional glance, Mr. Hamlin had seen that they were both pretty, and that one had the short upper lip of his errant little guide. A hundred yards farther on he halted, as if irresolutely, gazed doubtfully ahead of him, and then turned back. An expression of innocentalmost childlikeconcern was clouding the rascals face. It was well, as the two girls had drawn closely together, having been apparently surprised in the midst of a glowing eulogium of this glorious passing vision by its sudden return. At his nearer approach, the one with the short upper lip hid that piquant feature and the rest of her rosy face behind the others shoulder, which was suddenly and significantly opposed to the advance of this handsome intruder, with a certain dignity, half real, half affected, but wholly charming. The protectress appearedpossibly from her defensive attitudethe superior of her companion.
Audacious as Jack was to his own sex, he had early learned that such rare but discomposing graces as he possessed required a certain apologetic attitude when presented to women, and that it was only a plain man who could be always complacently self-confident in their presence. There was, consequently, a hesitating lowering of this hypocrites brown eyelashes as he said, in almost pained accents,
Excuse me, but I fear Ive taken the wrong road. Im going to Green Springs.
I reckon youve taken the wrong road, wherever youre going, returned the young lady, having apparently made up her mind to resent each of Jacks perfections as a separate impertinence: this is a PRIVATE road. She drew herself fairly up here, although gurgled at in the ear and pinched in the arm by her companion.
I beg your pardon, said Jack, meekly. I see Im trespassing on your grounds. Im very sorry. Thank you for telling me. I should have gone on a mile or two farther, I suppose, until I came to your house, he added, innocently.
A mile or two! Youd have run chock agin our gate in another minit, said the short-lipped one, eagerly. But a sharp nudge from her companion sent her back again into cover, where she waited expectantly for another crushing retort from her protector.
But, alas! it did not come. One cannot be always witty, and Jack looked distressed. Nevertheless, he took advantage of the pause.
It was so stupid in me, as I think your brotherlooking at Short-lipvery carefully told me the road.
The two girls darted quick glances at each other. Oh, Bawb! said the first speaker, in wearied accents,THAT limb! He dont keer.
But he DID care, said Hamlin, quietly, and gave me a good deal of information. Thanks to him, I was able to see that ferny wood thats so famousabout two miles up the road. You knowthe one that theres a poem written about!
The shot told! Short-lip burst into a display of dazzling little teeth and caught the other girl convulsively by the shoulders. The superior girl bent her pretty brows, and said, Eunice, whats gone of ye? Quit that! but, as Hamlin thought, paled slightly.
Of course, said Hamlin, quickly, you knowthe poem everybodys talking about. Dear me! let me see! how does it go? The rascal knit his brows, said, Ah, yes, and then murmured the verse he had lately sung quite as musically.
Short-lip was shamelessly exalted and excited. Really she could scarcely believe it! She already heard herself relating the whole occurrence. Here was the most beautiful young man she had ever seenan entire strangertalking to them in the most beautiful and natural way, right in the lane, and reciting poetry to her sister! It was like a novelonly more so. She thought that Cynthia, on the other hand, looked distressed, andshe must say itsilly.
All of which Jack noted, and was wise. He had got all he wantedat present. He gathered up his reins.
Thank you so much, and your brother, too, Miss Cynthia, he said, without looking up. Then, adding, with a parting glance and smile, But dont tell Bob how stupid I was, he swiftly departed.
In half an hour he was at the Green Springs Hotel. As he rode into the stable yard, he noticed that the coach had only just arrived, having been detained by a land-slip on the Summit road. With the recollection of Bob fresh in his mind, he glanced at the loungers at the stage office. The boy was not there, but a moment later Jack detected him among the waiting crowd at the post-office opposite. With a view of following up his inquiries, he crossed the road as the boy entered the vestibule of the post-office. He arrived in time to see him unlock one of a row of numbered letter-boxes rented by subscribers, which occupied a partition by the window, and take out a small package and a letter. But in that brief glance Mr. Hamlin detected the printed address of the Excelsior Magazine on the wrapper. It was enough. Luck was certainly with him.
He had time to get rid of the wicked sparkle that had lit his dark eyes, and to lounge carelessly towards the boy as the latter broke open the package, and then hurriedly concealed it in his jacket-pocket, and started for the door. Mr. Hamlin quickly followed him, unperceived, and, as he stepped into the street, gently tapped him on the shoulder. The boy turned and faced him quickly. But Mr. Hamlins eyes showed nothing but lazy good-humor.
Hullo, Bob. Where are you going?
The boy again looked up suspiciously at this revelation of his name.
Home, he said, briefly.
Oh, over yonder, said Hamlin, calmly. I dont mind walking with you as far as the lane.
He saw the boys eyes glance furtively towards an alley that ran beside the blacksmiths shop a few rods ahead, and was convinced that he intended to evade him there. Slipping his arm carelessly in the youths, he concluded to open fire at once.
Bob, he said, with irresistible gravity, I did not know when I met you this morning that I had the honor of addressing a poetnone other than the famous author of Underbrush.
The boy started back, and endeavored to withdraw his arm, but Mr. Hamlin tightened his hold, without, however, changing his careless expression.
You see, he continued, the editor is a friend of mine, and, being afraid this package might not get into the right handsas you didnt give your namehe deputized me to come here and see that it was all square. As youre rather young, for all youre so gifted, I reckon Id better go home with you, and take a receipt from your parents. Thats about square, I think?
The consternation of the boy was so evident and so far beyond Mr. Hamlins expectation that he instantly halted him, gazed into his shifting eyes, and gave a long whistle.
Who said it was for ME? Wot you talkin about? Lemme go! gasped the boy, with the short intermittent breath of mingled fear and passion.
Bob, said Mr. Hamlin, in a singularly colorless voice which was very rare with him, and an expression quite unlike his own, what is your little game?
The boy looked down in dogged silence.
Out with it! Who are you playing this on?
Its all among my own folks; its nothin to YOU, said the boy, suddenly beginning to struggle violently, as if inspired by this extenuating fact.
Among your own folks, eh? White Violet and the rest, eh? But SHES not in it?
No reply.
Hand me over that package. Ill give it back to you again.
The boy handed it to Mr. Hamlin. He read the letter, and found the inclosure contained a twenty-dollar gold-piece. A half-supercilious smile passed over his face at this revelation of the inadequate emoluments of literature and the trifling inducements to crime. Indeed, I fear the affair began to take a less serious moral complexion in his eyes.
Then White Violetyour sister Cynthia, you know, continued Mr. Hamlin, in easy parenthesiswrote for this? holding the coin contemplatively in his fingers, and you calculated to nab it yourself?
The quick searching glance with which Bob received the name of his sister, Mr. Hamlin attributed only to his natural surprise that this stranger should be on such familiar terms with her; but the boy responded immediately and bluntly:
No! SHE didnt write for it. She didnt want nobody to know who she was. Nobody wrote for it but me. Nobody KNEW FOLKS WAS PAID FOR POTRY BUT ME. I found it out from a feller. I wrote for it. I wasnt goin to let that skunk of an editor have it himself!
And you thought YOU would take it, said Hamlin, his voice resuming its old tone. Well, GeorgeI mean Bob, your conduct was praiseworthy, although your intentions were bad. Still, twenty dollars is rather too much for your trouble. Suppose we say five and call it square? He handed the astonished boy five dollars. Now, George Washington, he continued, taking four other twenty-dollar pieces from his pocket, and adding them to the inclosure, which he carefully refolded, Im going to give you another chance to live up to your reputation. Youll take that package, and hand it to White Violet, and say you found it, just as it is, in the lock-box. Ill keep the letter, for it would knock you endways if it was seen, and Ill make it all right with the editor. But, as Ive got to tell him that Ive seen White Violet myself, and know shes got it, I expect YOU to manage in some way to have me see her. Ill manage the rest of it; and I wont blow on you, either. Youll come back to the hotel, and tell me what youve done. And now, George, concluded Mr. Hamlin, succeeding at last in fixing the boys evasive eye with a peculiar look, it may be just as well for you to understand that I know every nook and corner of this place, that Ive already been through that underbrush you spoke of once this morning, and that Ive got a mare that can go wherever YOU can, and a dd sight quicker!
Ill give the package to White Violet, said the boy, doggedly.
And youll come back to the hotel?
The boy hesitated, and then said, Ill come back.
All right, then. Adios, general.
Bob disappeared around the corner of a cross-road at a rapid trot, and Mr. Hamlin turned into the hotel.
Smart little chap that! he said to the barkeeper.
You bet! returned the man, who, having recognized Mr. Hamlin, was delighted at the prospect of conversing with a gentleman of such decidedly dangerous reputation. But hes been allowed to run a little wild since old man Delatour died, and the widders got enough to do, I reckon, lookin arter her four gals, and takin keer of old Delatours ranch over yonder. I guess its pretty hard sleddin for her sometimes to get cloes and grub for the famerly, without follerin Bob around.
Sharp girls, too, I reckon; one of them writes things for the magazines, doesnt she?Cynthia, eh? said Mr. Hamlin, carelessly.
Evidently this fact was not a notorious one to the barkeeper. He, however, said, Dunno; mabbee; her father was eddicated, and the widder Delatour, too, though shes sorter queer, Ive heard tell. Lord! Mr. Hamlin, YOU oughter remember old man Delatour! From Opelousas, Louisiany, you know! High old sport French style, frilled bosomopen-handed, and uster buck agin faro awful! Why, he dropped a heap o money to YOU over in San Jose two years ago at poker! You must remember him!
The slightest possible flush passed over Mr. Hamlins brow under the shadow of his hat, but did not get lower than his eyes. He suddenly HAD recalled the spendthrift Delatour perfectly, and as quickly regretted now that he had not doubled the honorarium he had just sent to his portionless daughter. But he only said, coolly, No, and then, raising his pale face and audacious eyes, continued in his laziest and most insulting manner, no: the fact is, my mind is just now preoccupied in wondering if the gas is leaking anywhere, and if anything is ever served over this bar except elegant conversation. When the gentleman who mixes drinks comes back, perhaps youll be good enough to tell him to send a whisky sour to Mr. Jack Hamlin in the parlor. Meantime, you can turn off your soda fountain: I dont want any fizz in mine.
Having thus quite recovered himself, Mr. Hamlin lounged gracefully across the hall into the parlor. As he did so, a darkish young man, with a slim boyish figure, a thin face, and a discontented expression, rose from an armchair, held out his hand, and, with a saturnine smile, said:
Jack!