"You-uns have done purty fair fer boys," said the girl, with a saucy twinkle in her brown eyes. "S'pose I'll have ter thank ye, fer I mought a stood har consider'bul longer ef 'tadn't bin fer ye. Who be ye, anyhow? an' whar be ye goin'?"

Frank introduced himself, and then presented Barney, after which he explained how they happened to be in the Great Smoky Mountains.

She watched him closely as he spoke, noting every expression, as if a sudden suspicion had come upon her, and she was trying to settle a doubt in her mind.

When Frank had finished, the girl said:

"Never heard o' two boys from ther big cities 'way off yander comin' har ter tromp through ther maountings jest fer ther fun o' seein' ther scenery an' ther folks. I s'pose we're kinder curi's 'pearin' critters ter city folks, an' you-uns may be har ter cotch one o' us an' put us in a cage fer exhibition."

She uttered the words in a way that brought a flush to Frank's cheeks, and he hastened to protest, halting in confusion when he tried to speak her name, which he did not know as yet.

A ripple of sunshine seemed to break over her face, and she laughed outright, swiftly saying:

"Don't you-uns mind me. I'm p'izen rough, but I don't mean half I say. I kin see you is honest an' squar, though somebody else mought think by yer way that ye warn't. My name's Kate Kenyon, an' I live down toward ther cove. I don't feel like fishin' arter this, an' ef you-uns is goin'

that way, I'll go 'long with ye."

She picked up her pole, hooked up the line, and prepared to accompany them.

They were pleased to have her as a companion. Indeed, Frank was more than pleased, for he saw in this girl a singular character. Illiterate though she seemed, she was pretty, vivacious, and so bright that it was plain education and refinement would make her most fascinating and brilliant.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

FRANK AND KATE.

The boys did not get to Cranston's Cove that night, for Kate Kenyon invited them to stop and take supper at her home, and they did so.

Kate's home was much like the rough cabins of other mountain folks, except that flowering vines had been trained to run up the sides and over the door, while two large bushes were loaded with roses in front of the house.

Kate's mother was in the doorway as they approached. She was a tall, angular woman, with a stolid, expressionless face.

"Har, mammy, is some fellers I brung ter see ye," said this girl. "This un is Mr. Merriwell, an' that un is Mr. Mulloy."

The boys lifted their hats, and bowed to the woman as if she were a society queen. She nodded and stared.

"What be you-uns doin' 'round these parts?" she asked, pointedly.

Frank explained, seeing a look of suspicion and distrust deepening in her face as he spoke.

"Huah!" she grunted, when he had finished. "An' what do you-uns want o'

me?"

"Your daughter invited us to call and take supper," said Frank, coolly.

"I ain't uster cookin' flip-flaps fer city chaps, an' I don't b'lieve you kin eat the kind o' fodder we-uns is uster."

The boys hastened to a.s.sure her that they would be delighted to eat the plainest of food, and their eagerness brought a merry laugh from the lips of the girl.

"You-uns is consid'ble amusin'," she said. "You is powerful perlite. I asked 'em to come, mammy. It's no more'n fair pay fer what they done fer me."

Then she explained how she had been caught and held by the rocks, and how the boys had seen her from the mountain road and come to her rescue.

The mother's face did not soften a bit as she listened, but, when Kate had finished, she said:

"They're yore comp'ny. Ask 'em in."

So the boys were asked into the cabin, and Kate herself prepared supper.

It was a plain meal, but Frank noticed that everything looked neat and clean about the house, and both lads relished the coa.r.s.e food. Indeed, Barney afterward declared that the corn bread was better than the finest cake he had ever tasted.

Frank was particularly happy at the table, and the merry stories he told kept Kate laughing, and, once or twice, brought a grim smile to the face of the woman.

After supper they went out in front of the cabin, where they could look up at the wild ma.s.s of mountains, the peaks of which were illumined by the rays of the setting sun.

Mrs. Kenyon filled and lighted a cob pipe. She sat and puffed away, staring straight ahead in a blank manner.

Just how it happened Frank himself could not have told, but Barney fell to talking to the woman in his whimsical way, while Frank and Kate wandered away a short distance, and sat on some stones which had been arranged as a bench in a little nook near Lost Creek. From this position they could hear Barney's rich brogue and jolly laugh as he recounted some amusing yarn, and, when the wind was right, a smell of the black pipe would be wafted to them.

"Do you know," said Frank, "this spot is so wild and picturesque that it fascinates me. I should like to stop here two or three days and rest."

"Better not," said the girl, shortly.

"Why?" asked the boy, in surprise.

"Wal, it mought not be healthy."

"What do you mean?"

"You might be tooken fer revenue."

"For revenue? I do not understand."

"I wonder ef you air so ignerent, or be you jest makin' it?"

"Honestly and truly, I do not understand you."

"Wal, I kinder 'low you-uns is all right, but thar's others might not think so. S'pose you know what moonshine is?"

"Yes; it is illicitly distilled whiskey."

She nodded.

"That's right. Wal, ther revenues say thar's moonshine made round these parts. They come round ev'ry little while to spy an' cotch ther folks that makes it."

"By revenues you mean the officers of the government?"