Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1915-01-26
CHAPTER II.

Sally clambered lightly over the
fence and started on the last stage of
her journey, the climb across the
young corn rows. 1t was field stood
on end, and the hoed ground was un-
even; but with no seeming Of weari-
ness her red dress flashed steadfastly
across the green spears, and her voice
was raised to shout Hello Samson!"
The young man looked up and
waved languid greeting. He did not
remove his hat or descend from his
place Of rest, and Sally, who expected
no such attention. came smilingly on.
Samson was her hero. Slow of utter
ance and diffident with the stranger,
words now came fast and fluently as
she told her story Of the man who lay
hurt at the foot Of the rock.
Hit hain't long now tell sundown," "
she urged. Hurry, Samson, an git
yore mule. I've done give him my
promise to fotch we right straight
back"
Samson took off his hat, and tossed
the heavy lock upward from his fore
head. His brow wrinkled with doubts.
What sort of lookin' feller is he?"
While Sally sketched a description,
the young mans doubts grew graver.
This hain't no time ter be takin'
in folks what we hain't acquainted
WITH" he objected. In the mountains
any time is the time to take in strang-
ers unless there are secrets to be
guarded from outside eyes.
"Why hain't it?" demanded the girl.
He's hurt. We KANT leave him lay
in thar, kin we?"
Suddenly her eyes caught sight Of
the rifle leaning near by, and straight
way they filled with apprehension.
Her militant love would have turned
to hate for Samson, should he have
proved recreant to the mission of re-
prisal in which he was biding his time,
yet the coming Of the day when the
truce must end haunted her thoughts.
She came close, and her voice sank
with her sinking heart.
What air hit?" she tensely demand
ed. What air hit, Samson? What
fer have ye fotched yer gun ter the
field?"
The boy laughed. "Oh. hit amt
nothin' partic'ler," he reassured. Hit
hain't nothin' fer gal ter fret herself
erbout, only I kinder suspicious
strangers jest now"
Air the truce busted?" She put the
question in tense. deep-breathed
whisper, and the boy replied casually,
almost indifferently.
mo, Sally, hit hain't jest ter say
busted. but pears like hits right
smart cracked. 1 reckon, though" he
added in half-disgust, "nothin' won't
come of hit"
Somewhat reassured,. she bethought
herself again of her mission.
This here furriner hain't got no
harm in him, Samson" she pleaded.
He pears ter be more like gal than
man. He's real puny. He's got
white skin and a bow of ribbon on
his neck-an' he paints pictures"
The boys face had been hardening
with contempt as the description ad-
vanced, but at the last words glow
came to the eyes, and he demanded
almost breathlessly:
paints pictures? How do ye know
that?"
Il seen 'em. He was paintin one
when he fell often the rock and busted
his arm. It's shore es beautiful es-"
she broke off, then added with a sud-
den peal of laughter-"es er picture" "
The young man slipped down from
the fence, and reached for the rifle.
The hoe he left where it stood.
"I'll git the nag" he announced
briefly, and swung off without further
parley toward the curling spiral of
smoke that marked cabin a quarter
of mile below. Ten minutes later
his bare feet swung against the ribs
of a gray mule and his rifle lay bal
anced across the unsaddled withers.
Sally sat mountain fashion behind
him, facing straight to the side.
(To Be Continued.)