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"Ya-as, I do; that's the toler'ble straight fact," drawled the other. "But I ain't so much to blame; times you ack like a boy yit, Tom-Jeff." Tom was silent again, turning a thing over in his mind. It was a time to bend all means to the one end, the trivial as well as the potent. "Tell me something, Japhe," he said, changing front in the twinkling of an eye.
"I'm big enough to be in my own way a good deal of the time. I believe I could muddy Sim Cantrell's back for him now, at arm-holts." But there was still a question in the black eyes. "Where's your preacher's coat, Tom-Jeff? I was allowin' you'd be wearin' it nex' time we met up."
She shook her head despondently. "I cayn't nev' tell you that, Tom-Jeff." "I'd like to know why you can't." "Because he'd shore kill me then." "Then I'll find out some other way." "What differ' does it make to you?" she asked; and again the dark eyes searched him till he was fain to look away from her. "I reckon it doesn't make any difference, if you don't want it to.
When I made out like I'd run off, she said, 'No; it's his money 'at's bein' spent for you, and you have a right to it." Tom was silent for a time; then he said the other necessary word. "She believes I am the man who wronged you, Nan. It was my money." The woman half rose and then sat down again, rocking the child in her arms. "You're lyin' to me, Tom-Jeff Gordon.
Sound as a dollar in lung and leg, highstepper my Land! jest look at the way he holds his head rides like a baby's cradle; why, that hawss is a perfect gentleman, Tom-Jeff." Since her return from Europe Miss Ardea Dabney had taken to horseback riding, a five-mile canter before breakfast in the fine brisk air of the autumn mornings; and Tom had discovered that he needed a saddle animal.
The girl had another trembling fit when she heard them, and Tom's wonder was fast lapsing into contempt or something like it. "Oh-h-h!" she shuddered. "Do you reckon they saw us, Tom-Jeff?" "I shouldn't wonder," he whispered back unfeelingly. "We could see them plain enough." "He'll kill me, for shore, Tom-Jeff! O God!" Tom's lip curled. The wolf does not mate with the jackal.
When the time comes for me to put my foot on Vint Farley's neck, I'm going to spare him for your sake. Then you'll know what it means to have a man's love. Good-by; I'm coming over for a few minutes this evening if you'll let me." "Now jest you listen at me, Tom-Jeff; you ain't goin' to make out to find no better hawss 'n that this side o' the Blue Grass.
I been over to McLemore's Valley, lookin' at some brood-mares that old man Mac is tryin' to sell the Major." "Did you come through Pine Knob?" "Shore, I did. I was a-settin' on Brother Bill Layne's porch whilst you was talkin' to Nan Bryerson. Seems sort o' pitiful you cayn't let that pore gal alone, Tom-Jeff." "That's enough," said Tom hotly.
That was why he drove half-way to the lower end of the pike before he turned on Nan to say: "What's in that bundle you're so careful of? Why don't you put it under the seat?" She looked around at him, and dark as it was, he saw that the great black eyes were shining with a strange light strange to him. "I reckon you wouldn't want me to do that, Tom-Jeff," she answered simply.
"Damn!" he screamed; and then, in an access of terrified remorse: "Oh, hell, hell, hell!" The girl laughed mockingly and took her foot from the pool, not in deference to his outburst, but because the water was icy cold and gave her a cramp. "Now you've done it," she remarked. "The devil'll shore get ye for sayin' that word, Tom-Jeff."
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