The old man sat at the end of the table, with Duffield on his right and his daughter, a girl about seventeen, and barefooted, next beyond. The family circle was large and, with the four guests, the table was crowded.

In the midst of the meal they were startled by the girl who, crying "Ouch!" jumped up from the table.

Her father, looking at Duffield with murder in his eye, said: "What's the matter, Cinthy?"

"The cat scratched my foot."

The old man looked under the table for confirmation; and there sat the old, black cat, looking as innocent as a Madonna. And the family resumed the meal.

That afternoon, as they were running one of the lines, Cornwall said to Duffield: "That cat saved your life."

"Heck! That cat scared me to death."

"Oh, I'm on to you; I have heard of your tricks when you were surveying in Clay and Leslie."

"You mean that time over on Red Bird; that is the greatest fishing stream in Kentucky, and most appropriately named, as each papaw bush and hazel and blackberry thicket is the home of a family of red birds.

"From Big to Bear Creek it is a succession of riffles and smooth pools.

These pools are the favored haunts and playgrounds of ba.s.s, perch and soft-sh.e.l.l turtles. A single drag with a minnow seine in one of the feeding brooks will give you an ample supply of bait. When carefully keeping behind the overhanging sh.o.r.e brush and exercising caution not to knock brush or clod into the stream, an hour's mediocre effort is rewarded by a dozen ba.s.s of uniform size, weighing about a pound each.

Should you make an unusual noise, break a twig or cause the sandy bank to cave and ripple the water, you must pa.s.s on to the next pool and use more caution.

"We were stopping at old man White's. The house had three rooms in the front. It was in the spring, and at night we sat in the big middle room around the open fireplace and joined in the family conversation. This was the bedroom of the old folks. Their grown daughter, who attended school, sat by the table worrying over her lessons in compound interest, the practical application of which in after years would be as needful as a mariner's compa.s.s to steer her father's log canoe, tied to the root of a sycamore. I went over and helped her a bit and she became quite cordial in manner.

"When I handed back her slate, I wrote upon it: 'By moonlight, when all is still, I will play Romeo under your window.' I saw that she read it when, with a half-blush, half-smile, she applied the rag with vigor to her slate. I knew she understood. All the girls in this broad land, though they may not know the sum of seven times eight, are familiar with the story of Romeo and Juliet and the balcony scene in ancient Verona.

"Coleman Reid was with me. You know he is always b.u.t.ting in when there is a girl around. He came over and began drawing cartoons on the slate and, satisfied with prospective arrangements, I gave him my seat, taking his by the fire.

"In a short while the girl and her sister went to their room on the right end of the house and Reid and I to ours on the left.

"Reid wore his hair long and roached back; mine I have always worn short. We undressed and went to bed, both pretending to be sleepy.

"After an hour I got up, dressed, and started out, when my friend, who had been playing possum all the time, said: 'Where are you going?'

"'I'm not sleepy; I think I will take a little walk.'

"'Don't you want your hat?'

"'No.'

"And so I walked around to the north end of the house, where our host's daughter sat at the open window.

"I said something about it being a pleasant night, to which she replied:

"'Ayr you the long-haired or the short-haired one?'

"'The short-haired one.'

"'Bend over so I can feel and see.'

"So I bent over, happy to have my clipped locks caressed by her capable hands, when she gave me a crack with a rolling pin or some other delicate instrument. And, without a word, half staggering, I walked out from the shadow of the house into the moonlight and sat down on the stile blocks until I could distinguish the real from the artificial stars. Then I went in and to bed.

"Reid was half-dressed when I came in and, about the time I climbed into bed, he went out the door for a walk, blaming me for waking him up.

"In a little while he came back, looking the worse for wear. A few drops of blood discolored his cheek near the ear. He never told me what happened. I only know that after that night he was not so restless and took no moonlight strolls.

"The next night I helped the girl again with her compound interest, but Reid talked to the old man about running logs down the river on the June tide."

Thursday morning, Cornwall and his party, having completed the surveys, returned to Harlan.

A week later Mrs. Saylor met him by appointment in Pineville. They went to the jail with a notary, when she and her husband executed a deed to the Pittsburgh Coal & c.o.ke Company for the Straight Creek place, and were given a check for the purchase price, thirty-five thousand dollars.

CHAPTER V.

THE SAYLORS MOVE TO THE BLUEGRa.s.s.

In November the Court of Appeals reversed the case of Saylor against the Commonwealth and remanded it for retrial. Saylor gave bail in the sum of three thousand dollars and was discharged from custody.

He pa.s.sed the first two or three days of his freedom at the old place on Straight Creek; then he and his wife took the train at Pineville for Richmond and spent more than a week driving through the country examining farms on the market in Garrard, Madison and Clark counties.

They finally purchased one in Madison County, between Silver Creek and Paint Lick.

Then they returned home and, after preparations were completed for their departure, loaded their household goods into a two-horse wagon and drove through, nearly a hundred miles, to the new home. The women folks rode in the wagon. The old man and the boys preceded them on horseback, driving their small bunch of cattle and sheep.

Before the move, Cornwall received a letter from Mary asking that he write Wellesley, making inquiries as to the cost of the course and the preparation necessary to matriculate. This he did and forwarded the reply to her on Straight Creek. A few days later he received a short note of thanks for that and the many other services he had rendered them. She also asked that he come and see them before their removal and gave the new home address.

He intended riding over to Straight Creek before they moved, but court was in session and he was very busy. When he did make the trip, he found the house deserted.

He saw no member of the family until the February term of the Bell Circuit Court, which Saylor and his wife attended for his retrial.

He received a Christmas card from Mary, mailed at Wellesley, and wrote her a note of thanks for the remembrance, of congratulation at the realization of her desire, and a wish that the New Year might prove one of happiness and further realization.

Old man Saylor, dispensing with the services of Squire Putman, insisted that Cornwall try his case alone and fix his own fee; but not being acquainted in the county, he asked Judge Hurst to help, particularly in selecting the jury, and paid him $150.00 of the $500.00 fee charged Saylor for services in the Court of Appeals and the retrial of his case.

All new residents of the county on the panel, if not excused for cause, were peremptorily challenged. The case was tried by a native jury that had respect for Saylor's plea of self-defense and apparent necessity and who understood what Simpson's threat meant. They were out about twenty minutes and returned a verdict of "not guilty."

Cornwall, knowing with what anxiety Mary would await news of the trial, telegraphed her: "All court matters concluded and to your entire satisfaction"; so wording it that she might not be embarra.s.sed.

Saylor and his wife after the trial exhibited no haste to return to the Bluegra.s.s or to re-establish social relations with their new neighbors.

They spent several days visiting up the creek and in old Pineville.

One night they called at Cornwall's hotel. Little was said about the trial, though Mrs. Saylor shed a few tears and called Cornwall a good boy. As usual, the old man did most of the talking.

"Well, young man, how are you coming on up to Harlan Town. I sh.o.r.e do miss old Pine Mountain and the rocks and trees; the jingle of the bells as the cows at evening hasten homeward from the timbered hills; the big, open fireplace with its light and glow of burning oak and chestnut where we huddled in happy talk and kinship; the darkness of the night where even the moon came slowly over the mountain and peeped timidly through the trees; the stillness of the night when all in the house might hear Susie whispering her prayers and the whippoorwills calling in the thickets.

"The first thing in the morning I used ter go by the friendly, old well and drink a gourdful of the soft, cool water, then feed Tom and Jerry and bring in an armload of wood. As I came in the door the frosty air was sweet with the smell of home-cured bacon which the old woman was fixing fer breakfast and when I sat down there it was jest right, a streak of lean and of fat showing in thin layers. And the big pones of cornbread hot from the Dutch oven; of meal fresh from the old water mill and sweet to the taste; a big dish of fried apples, a jug of sorghum and a gla.s.s of milk. It was a nice place to live. I would not care to pa.s.s the old house now. The door might be shut, the fireplace cold; I would find no welcoming face."