"You hain't seen much of this country,I reckon.You hain't been here afore?
The mother had broken the silence at last.
No,"said Clayton;"but I like it very much."Do ye?"she asked,in surprise."Why,I 'lowed you folks from the settlemints thought hit was mighty scraggy down hyeh.""Oh no.These mountains and woods are beautiful,and I never saw lovelier beech-trees.The coloring of their trunks is so exquisite,and the shade is so fine,"he concluded,lamely,noticing a blank look on the old woman's face.To his delight the girl,half turned toward him,was listening with puzzled interest.
Well,"said the old woman,"beeches is beautiful to me when they has mast enough to feed the hogs."Carried back to his train of speculations,Clayton started at this abrupt deliverance.There was a suspicion of humor in the old woman's tone that showed an appreciation of their different standpoints.It was lost on Clayton,however,for his attention had been caught by the word "mast,"which,by some accident,he I had never heard before.
"Mast,"he asked,"what is that?
The girl looked toward him in amazement,and burst into a low,suppressed laugh.Her mother explained the word,and all laughed heartily.
Clayton soon saw that his confession of ignorance was a lucky accident.It brought Easter and himself nearer common ground.
She felt that there was something,after all,that she could teach him.She had been overpowered by his politeness and deference and his unusual language,and,not knowing what they meant,was overcome by a sense of her inferiority.The incident gave him the key to his future conduct.A moment later she looked up covertly,and,meeting his eyes,laughed again.The ice was broken.He began to wonder if she really had noticed him so little at their first meeting as not to recognize him,or if her indifference or reserve had prevented her from showing the recognition.He pulled out his note-book and began sketching rapidly,conscious that the girl was watching him.When be finished,he rose,picking up the old flint-lock.
"Won't ye stay and hev some dinner?,'asked the old woman.
"No,thank you."
Come ag'in,"she said,cordially,adding the mountaineer's farewell,"I wish ye well.""Thank you,I will.Good-day."As he passed the girl he paused a moment and dropped the paper into her lap.It was a rude sketch of their first meeting,the bull coming at him like a tornado.The color came to her face,and when Clayton turned the corner of the house he heard her laughing.
"What you laughin'at,Easter?"asked the mother,stopping her work and looking around.
For answer the girl rose and walked into the house,hiding the paper in her bosom.The old woman watched her narrowly.
I never seed ye afeard of a man afore,"she said to herself."No,nur so tickled 'bout one,nother.Well,he air as accommodatin'a feller as I ever see,ef he air a furriner.But he was a fool to swop his gun fer hem."VTHEREAFTER Clayton saw the girl whenever possible.If she came to the camp,he walked up the mountain with her.No idle day passed that he did not visit the cabin,and it was not long before he found himself strangely interested.Her beauty and fearlessness had drawn him at first;her indifference and stolidity had piqued him;and now the shyness that displaced these was inconsistent and puzzling.This he set himself deliberately at work to remove,and the conscious effort gave a peculiar piquancy to their intercourse.He had learned the secret of association with the mountaineers-to be as little unlike them as possible-and he put the knowledge into practice.He discarded coat and waistcoat,wore a slouched hat,and went unshaven for weeks.He avoided all conventionalities,and was as simple in manner and speech as possible.Often when talking with Easter,her face was blankly unresponsive,and a question would sometimes leave her in confused silence.He found it necessary to use the simplest Anglo-Saxon words,and he soon fell into many of the quaint expressions of the mountaineers and their odd,slow way of speech.This course was effective,and in time the shyness wore away and left between them a comradeship as pleasant as unique.
