The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1905-04-20
CHAPTER "

OhA1 IEh v.
l look'd up. Below : sleeper ridge
OF the tor a patch of .. had been
clear'd for tillage: and here a yoke Of
oxen was moving leisure,y before a
plough, while behind followed the wild
est shape-a woman.
She was not calling to me. but to her
team; and as put Molly at the slope,
her chant rose and fell in the mourn
fullest singsong.
''So-hoa! Cop Comely Vean! oop. then
-o-oopr'
l rose in NY stirrups and shouted. At
this and the sound of hoofs, she stay'd
the plough and, hand on hip, looked down
the slope. The oxen, softly rafting the
chains on their yoke, turn'd their necks
and gazed. With sunk head Molly heav-
ed herself up the last few yards and
came to halt with stagger. / slipp'd
out OF the saddle and stood. with hand
on it. swaying.
What's thy need, young man-that
contest down to Temple WI sword a
danglin'T'
The girl was half dress'd in coarse
sacking- She appear'd no whit abash'd,
but lean'd on the plougr-tail and regard
ed me, easy and frank. as a man would.
Sell me a horse" / blurred out;
twenty guineas will give for one with
In five minutes, and more if he be goodl
| ride on the Kings Grand"
But | saw her no longer; only called
"oh-oh" twice. like little chill, and
slipping my hold Of the saddle, dropp'd
forward on her breast. l was reused by
the touch OF a hand thrust over my
heart
"Who is it?' 1 whispered.
JOAN" answered a voice, and the
hand was Withdrawn.
'Joan-what besides?"
''Joan's enough, / reckon; lucky for
thee It's none else. Joan O. the Tor
folks call me. Hold thy peace. lad. an
cry out so little as may be-"
/ felt ripping of my jacket sleeve
and shirt, now clothed and stuck to the
flesh. 1t pain'd cruelty, but shut my
teeth: and after that came the smart
and delicious ache of water, as she rinsed
the wound.
Clean through the flesh, lad-in an
put. like country dancin'. No bullet to
probe nor bone to set Heart up! Thy
mother shall kiss thee yet. What's thy
uame?'
Marvel, Joan-Jack Marvel"
AN marvel it's thou'rt Marvel yet
Good blood there's in thee, but little
enow."
She bandaged the sore with linen from
my shirt, and tied it round with sackcloth
from her own dress. Twas all most
gently done; and then found her arms
under me, and myself lifted as easily as
a baby.
Left arm round my neck, Jack; an
sing out if it's hurtin' thee"
1t seemed but six steps and we were
out on the bright hillside, not fifty PAGES
from where the plough yet stood in the
furrow. Down the hill she carried me.
picking the softest turf. ard moving with
an easeful swing that rather lull'd my
hurt than jolted it. I was doing, even,
when a strange noise awoke me.
Twas a high protracted note, that
seem'd at first to swell up toward us, and
then broke off in half dozen or more
sharp yells. Joan took no heed Of them.
but seeing my eyes unclose, and hearing
me moan, stopped short
Hurt thee, ladT"
mo. Twas not my pain but the sink
ing sun that wrung the exclamation from
me. I was thinking" 1 muttered-
Don't; it's bad for health. But bide
thee still awhile. and shalt lie 'pon a
soft bed"
By this time we had come down to the
road. and the yells were still going on.
louder than ever. We crossed the road.
descended another slope, and came all at
once on a low pile of buildings that
moment before had been hid Twas but
three novels OF mud, stuck together in
the shape Of headless cross. Around
the whole ran a battered wall, patched
with furs, and from this dwelling the
screams were issuing
"Joanr' the voice began, "Joan-Jan
Tergagle's a clawin' my legs-Gar-rout,
thou cat Pull'n off Joan-Jo-anv'