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"If you thought the storm was going to be severe, why did you not warn Eben, Mr. Chillis?" The gray eyes watched him steadily. "I did say, there would be a sou'-wester uncommon severe; but Rumway laughed at me for prophesyin' in his company. Besides, I was in a hurry to get off, myself, and wouldn't argue with 'em. Smiley's a man to take his own way pretty much, too."
"Rumway asked you to marry him, did he?" began Chillis, at last, in a low and measured tone. "Yes." "An' you accepted him?" "Not yet" in a quavering adagio. "But you will?" "Perhaps so. I do not know" in a firmer voice. "Rumway is doin' well, an' he is a pretty good fellow, as men go.
Better git yer ark alongside the wharf; fur we're goin' to hev the Columbia runnin' up stream to-night, sure as you're born." "Hullo! Is that you, Joe Chillis? What brought you to town in this kind o' weather? And what do you know about the tides? that's my business, I calculate." "Mebbe it is; and mebbe a bar pilot knows more about the tides nor a mountain man.
It was growing colder, too, and his sodden garments were of little service to protect him from the chill that comes with a south-wester; nor was the grip of the naked hands upon the oars stimulating to the circulation of his old blood through the swollen fingers. But old Joe Chillis had a distinct comprehension of the situation, and felt himself to be master of it.
"And Eben " She checked herself, and fixed her eyes upon the hearth. "He thought there was no danger, most likely." "Mr. Chillis, I can never thank you!" she cried, fervently, as she turned to glance at the sleeping child. "White Rose," he answered, under his breath, "I don't want any thanks but those I've got."
Tobacco, cotton, Indian corn, and various species of grain grow here in great abundance, and in the gardens we find many of the products of India flourishing, viz. the plantain, the papya, mulberries, melons, chillis, brinjols, and fruits and vegetables of various descriptions.
Pole off pole off, with yer oar!" "Mind your oars," returned Chillis; "I'll mind mine" every word spoken with a yell. "What was the row, out there?" asks the mail-carrier, making a trumpet of his hand. "Boat flopped over; lost an oar," answered Chillis, keeping his little craft from flying on board by main force. "Guess I won't go over to-night," says the carrier.
Whether she was thinking of what she had heard, or whether she had forgotten it, no one could have guessed from her manner; and Chillis could not wait to know. The fountains of the deep had been stirred until they would not rest. "Was there no other question you asked yourself about the old mountain man which he can answer? Did you never wonder whether he ever had loved at all?"
"What's that?" cried Willie, the boy, his senses sharpened by the mention of danger. "It's the wind rattlin' my boat-chains," returned Chillis, smiling at the little fellow's startled looks. "Your boat-chain!" echoed his mother, not less startled. "Was it your boat that you were fastening to the hitching-post? I thought it was your horse.
"Waal, I can do that, I guess, when we git to the landin'. I keep an extra pair or two for emergencies. But it's gittin' awful black, Chillis, an' I don't envy you the trip up the creek. It's crooked as a string o' S's, an' full o' shoals, to boot." "It won't be shoal to-night," remarked Chillis, and relapsed into silence. In a few minutes the boat's bow touched the bank.
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