The Skyland post. [volume] (West Jefferson, N.C.) 193?-1988, 1942-07-16
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Angie; none to meet Twombley,
if the latter had returned to the
shanty. Jerry did not keep to
the track. He took to the trees
and followed it's course under
their shelter.
AS he approached the open
country, he went more and more
carefully.
At school, his geology textbook,
never enthusiastically studied,
contained a supplementary chap
ter or two on mineralogy, but he
had forgotten most of it long ago
Not only would he not be able to
tell good iron ore from bad; he
wouldn't know any sort of ore if
he fell into a heap Of it. Still less
did he understand the collection of
specimens. But he believed that,
if he could get somewhere near
where the last borrowings were
made into those cliffs, all his pur-
poses would be solved by filling
his pockets with casual clay and
pebbles.
He reached the treeless area.
The stars burned clearly, yet their
light was insufficient to send
down more than a ghostly radi-
ance.
The pine clump, far over there,
showed merely as a grunge of
shadow.
The shanty was a black mound
in the plain, magnified by the
semi-darkness until it resembled
tumulus where some prehistoric
warrior might be buried.
All around, the inky hills fad
ed into the inky horizon. With
them for background, any moving
figure would be as good as invis-
ible.
One comfort, though. If any
guard or prowler was hidden
from Jerry, Jerry was equally
we'll hidden from prowler or
guard. Still cleaving to the sur
rounding trees, he began to cir
Gle the barren waste.
He had to go slowly, for fear of
giving some alarm. He was un-
skilled in such progress and his
best efforts were none too sue
cessful. Inevitably, twigs snap
ped under foot. To his high-key-
ed nerves, the reports sounded as
loud as pistol shots. Once he
sprawled flat over some obstruc-
ton and stayed long quiescent,
eyes straining into the night to
detect any movement from the
hut which the noise of that tum-
BILE might evoke.
It evoked none.
He began to speculate upon
what might, after all, have hap
pened there.
How Angie had reappeared so
suddenly at the store was beyond
his explanation. He must ask
Rose about it. He scolded him
self for not having already asked
her.
But if Twombley had pretend
ed to Angie his own return to l.
ronburg ahead of her. If he had
concealed himself somewhere
here among these trees, gone back
to that shanty when the coast
was clear, waited for darkness
and her final return? If he had
then attacked her when she least
expected attack?
In memory Glidden saw the
brown arm that was like a SER
pent poised to strike. He saw
the lowering hand, the crooked
fingers. Whatever was the cause
of that strange enmity which sep
arated those two people otherwise
held together by some stronger
bond, there was ne doubling the
malignity Of one Of them.
Well, that would have to wait.
The night was still young. Jerry
got up and determinedly forced
his aching legs into the direction
of the cliffs.
Safely he reached them. Safely
he progressed along and around
them and safely descended to the
scene of his mornings swim.
He slipped out of his clothes,
then put his coat back on; he
would need its pockets. There
was the post of that old Derrick.
He launched it with loud splash,
sat astride it and padded it
through the chilly water toward