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Bud Yarebrough was more fortunate. He leaned far forward and succeeded in getting a firm grasp of the neck, but he had guided his horse too close to the bird, and his jerk drew it directly over his face, blinding him with grease and feathers. His plight was greeted with howls of derision, which fell into silence as John Wendell made the trial.
Yarebrough had told him in the afternoon that his baby was ill, and that he could not leave Melissa alone with her that night; but he had confessed at the same time, with his usual lack of reticence, that the Baron had "been a-talkin'" to him, and Pink suspected that the baby's illness was a fabrication to excuse his non-appearance at the still, and possibly his treachery.
"Ah swear, Pink," broke out Yarebrough, in puzzled indecision, "Ah swear Ah donno's Ah like this business." Pressley sneered. "Don' talk so loud. Yo' rather late findin' hit out." "No, Ah ain'. Ah ain' never been sho'." "Sho' 'bout what?" "Oh, Ah donno. Kin' o' hard to say. You-all don' think we'll get caught?" "Not 'f you keep that big mouth o' yo's shut." "Mr. Baron did." "Mr. Baron's a fool.
"When the mud dried," repeated Friedrich. "Remarkable! Good-morning, Mrs. Yarebrough. Most remarkable!" he kept repeating to himself as he walked home. "He is not afraid, of that I am certain. Why, then, does he delay? Remarkable!" In the Southern Appalachians
He trusted a stranger." "Hit'll kin'er make ye uneasy 'bout talkin' to fellers on the road, won' hit?" said Bud, who was the most sociable man in the settlement. "Hit'll sharpen yo' judg-ment. The way you-all go on now you ain' fur off Mr. Baron fo' never suspectin' nobody." It was this very quality in Bud that was playing into Pink's hands. Yarebrough, however, felt properly rebuked.
Yarebrough be so good, so very good, as to go back with him and see if she could make her comfortable, and spend the rest of the night there? Bud shut the door, and Friedrich heard the sound of discussion. Kindness of heart and curiosity to see the strange lady triumphed over the claims of sleep, and Bud opened the door again to call through the crevice, "She'll go, Mr. Baron."
"Himmlisches Mädchen," he whispered, and pulled off his cap with a feeling of guilt that he was bringing into this pure presence his thoughts of hatred and revenge. Little Miss Yarebrough had a narrow escape from a fall as her temporary nurse's eyes fell upon the figure outside the door. "Ah, Baron, it is you!" cried Sydney, tucking the baby into the hollow of one arm and extending her hand.
A blast of wind brought in a sheet of rain that dampened the ashes swept from the fireplace by the sudden draught. "O-oh, Doctor!" came a voice from the rider on the other side of the fence. "Hullo! Who are you?" "Bud Yarebrough. Ah got a letter fo' you." "Well, light, ye fool, and put yo' beast under the shack." The Doctor slammed the door and shivered back into the range of the fire's glow.
By mid-June the crop in the bottom-land was knee-high, while that nourished by the field over which Sydney had stumbled on the top of Buck Mountain was only half as tall. Bud Yarebrough and Pink Pressley were hoeing among stalks half-way between these heights on the upland slopes of the Baron's farm, whose cultivable land they had hired for the season.
It was almost midnight when they reached the cabin, Friedrich and the whole Yarebrough family; for Sydney Melissa could not be left behind, and Bud had a curiosity of his own. Von Rittenheim spoke in German and the door was unlocked. He made a hasty explanation to Hilda concerning the number of his escort. Melissa stared with all her eyes at the childish beauty before her. "Oh, Mr.
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