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Updated: May 18, 2025
Sweeping his pistol muzzle across and back again over the front of the closing line, he sprang into saddle and wheeled away. "Hit means we've brung ye back a murderer. Git yer own rope ye kain't have mine! If ye-all want trouble with Old Missoury over this, er anything else, come runnin' in the mornin'. Ye'll find us sp'ilin' fer a fight!" He was off in the darkness.
Who or what hit me, and why am I here hog-tied like a captured hoss thief?" "Mebby ye-all be that. Kain't answer no questions, an' if ye don't keep still Ah'll shoot ye. Ah reckon ye-all will keep still that-away." "Ah reckon maybe you're right," agreed Hippy, and was silent. Lieutenant Wingate was kept in the cave all that day.
"Mebbe ye don't know that I'm ag'in' fur-riners," he said, abruptly, " all o' ye; 'n' ef the Lord hisself hed 'a' tol' me thet my gal would be a-marryin' one, I wouldn't 'a' believed him. But Sherd hev told me ye air all right, 'n' ef Sherd says ye air, why, ye air, I reckon, 'n' I hevn't got nothin' to say; though I hev got a heap ag'in ye-all o' ye."
Don't be so infernally rough about it. Kicking is a dangerous habit to get into. One of these days you will forget yourself and kick a Kentucky mule. Then good night!" "Didn't Ah tell ye-all to keep still? Want another clip ovah the haid?" "Thank you, no," replied Hippy. "If you don't mind, before I relapse into gloomy silence, you might tell me what the big idea is.
The owner watched their progress with considerable interest, but made no comment until they had reached the farther side of the barn, when he asked: "Thet a railroad ye-all surveyin' fer?" "Certainly," replied the chief.
"He made us promise not to tell who he was!" "'N' I don't kyeer what he done!" the imperturbable one answered. "I want ye-all ter know I don't take nuthin' underhand from nobody, less'n hit's my man, Bill!" The accuser ducked from sight. "Do you mean," Jane asked, "a man about twenty-four, or five, or six, or maybe seven with sort of brown or grayish eyes, and and rather handsome?"
"It is a fine, large evening. Do you ordinarily have such large evenings in the Kentucky mountains?" "Off an' on, Mister. Wall, Ah reckon Ah'm full clear to the gullet. Who be ye-all?" "We call ourselves the Overland Riders. May I ask who you are?" questioned Hippy. "Ah'm the game constable of this 'ere county. Where's the bear?"
Just ahead of her stood a tall, gaunt mountaineer leaning on his rifle. The expression on his face was not one of welcome, but Grace Harlowe saw fit to ignore that. "Howdy, stranger," she greeted, smiling down at the man. "Howdy," grunted the man, as they regarded each other appraisingly. "Where do ye-all reckon yer goin'?" he demanded gruffly. "Is this Spring Brook?" interjected Hippy.
He saw instantly from the exclamations that the mountaineers uttered under their breaths, that he had "said something," as he expressed it to himself. "So that's it, hey! Be ye-all workin' fer the gov'ment, too?" demanded a voice. "I am not, nor have I been since I fought in France. Is there anything else that you ruffians wish to have me tell you?" demanded Hippy belligerently.
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