BEAR CAT STACY

Thames Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 17680, 3 September 1929, Page 3

BEAR CAT STACY

CHAPTER XI. ... . ' " i Civilisation just then seemed fair away; the primal very near—and, in that mood, the hot currents of .longdenied • love for this woman who was defying her own laws to offer him sanctuary, mounted to. supremacy.

Sudh a love appeared as logical as a while ago it had seemed illogical. Eagle blood should mate with eagle blood. i - “But, little girl,” .Jerry protested. “Ye’re hyar alcne, I kain’t hardly

tarry. Ef hit became known——” “Tliet’s jest ther reason,” she flashed .back at him, “thet nobody won’t suspicion ye air hyar, an’ ef ye’re in

peril hit\ don’t make no difference ter in© what fqlks. says nohow*. 1 aims ter safeguard ye from harm.” His eyes, darkly ringed by fatigue and hunger, held .an even deeper avidity. He-iooked at the high-chinned and resolute face crowned with masses of hair which lamp-light and hearthglow kindled into an aura and deep into amber eyes that were candid with their confession of love. Slowly Jerry Henderson put his question—a question already answered. <- I leekon ye knows what this means, Blossom. Why air ye willin’ ter venture hit?”

Still leaning tremulously against the chinked walk, she anwsered with the thrill of feeling and purpose in her voice.

“I hain’t askin’ what hit means. I hain’t keerin’ what hit means. All 1 knows is thet ye are in peril—and thet’s enough.” Jerry caught her in his arms, crushed her to him, felt her lips against his lips; her arms clinging softly about lv.s neck, and at last he spoke—no longer with restraint. “Until to-night I’ve always fought against love and I thought I was stronger than' it was, but I reckon that was just because I’ve never really come face-to-face with its full power, before. Now I’m going out again.” “No! No! I won’t suffer hit,” she protested with fervent vehemence. “Ye’re al-goin’ ter stay right hyar. Ye belongs ter me now an’ I aims ter keep ye—unharmed! ’ ’ Abruptly they fell silent, warned by some premonitory sense, and, as they stocd listening, a clamour of knocking sounded on the door."

Thrusting him into her bedroom and screening him behind a mass of clothing that hung in a small corner closet unenclosed, but deeply shadowed, she braced herself once more into seeming tranquility and went to the front of the front of the house. Then she threw ■wide the door.

“We wants ter hev speech with Brother Fulkerson,” came the unrecognised A’oice of a stranger -whose hat brim shielded Iris face in the darkness.

“He hain’t hyar an’ he won't he back afore midday ter-morrow,” responded the girl with ingenuous composure. “I kain’t hardly invite ye in—because I’m hyar all alone,” she added with a disarming gravity. “Will ye leave any message?” Out there among the shadows she heard the murmurs- of a whispered

I OUR SERIAL STORY

By CHARLES NE VILLE BUCK.

(Author of “The Call of the Cumberlands,” etc.)

consultation, and despite a palpitation of fear sbe bravely held the picture. ’ Then, partly ' because her manner carried conviction against suspicion, and partly because to enter would be to reveal identities, the voice shouted back: “No, thank ye, ma’am. I reckon we’ll fare on.” .

CHAPTER XIII. Before Henderson had come that night, Blossom. had been trying to study, but the pages of her book had developed the trick of becoming blui v red,.

Two face. s persisted in rising before her imagination; one, the reproachful countenance of Bear Cat, whom she ought to love whole-heartedly; the other, that of Henderson, whom she told herself she admired only as she ■might admire the President of the United States or the man who had written the dictionary—with distant and respectful application. “He says I’m all right,” she mused, “but I reckon he knows in his hearo that I hain’t good enough fer him — ner fer his folks.”

Tears sprang into her eyes at the confess .on, and her reasoning went upon the rock s of illogic. “In the first place,” she irrelevantly argued, “I’m in love with Bear Gat —an’ in the secend to think about Mr. Henderson would be right smart like crying for the moon.”

Then Henderson had come; had come asking refuge from danger. He had declared his love with tumultuous force —and it seemed to Blossom that after all, the. niton was hers without crying for it. When she had fed him in silence, because of the possibility of lurking spies outside, they sat, unmindful of passing hours, before, the roar of the stone hearth, and as the man’s arms held her close to him she let her long lashes droop over her eyes and surrendered her hair and lips to his kisses v -

They had no great need of words, but sometimes she raised her lids and gazed steadfastly into his face, and as the carmine flecks of the blaze lighted her cheeks, the eyes were wide and unmasked, with a full, yet proud, surrender. He thought' that for this gift of flower-like beauty and love the abandonment of his stern opportunism was a cheap exchange. His eyes, too, were glowing with an ardent light and both were spared the irony of realisiv tion that afterward impulse must again yield to the censorship of colder considerations. There is nothing more real than an impossible dream—while it endures.

Once the girl’s glance fell on a home-made doll, with a coarse wig of liorse-hair, propped on the mantelshelf. It was one of those crude make>shifts which mountain' children call poppets, as our great-grandfathers’ great-grandmothers called them puppets. A shadow of self-accusing pain crossed Blossom’s face. “Turney whittled that poppet fer me outen hickory wood when I whs just a little gal,” she whispered remorsefully,, then added: “Turney ’lowed ter’ wed me some dav.”

Henderson ' reassured her with irrefutable 1 logic. “Turner wouldn’t have you disobey your heart, Blossom. Only you must he sure what your heart commands. ’’

! “I am sure. I’m plumb dead-sartin sure!”, she vehemently responded, thought still in a suppressed voice. They s.at before the fire, alertly wakeful, in tke shadow of impending danger until the first pale hint of dawn. Then Blossom went cut with water pails, ostensibly busied about her early tasks but really on a journey of investigation. Returning, satisfied of temporary saietv, she said briefly ancl authoritatively: “Come on, hit won’t do fer ye t>r tarty liyar. They'll come- back, sactin suae. Thar’s a .leetle cave back tliar in ther rocks that’s beknownst only to Turner and me. Hit’s. dry. and clean an’ thar’s sweet water runnin’ through, hit. I’ll fetch yore victuals every day an’ when the search fer ye lets up a leetle, I’ll guide ye across inter Virginnjy, wlhar ye kin strike ther railroad without goin’ hack to | Marlin Town.”

[ “If I were you, Blossom,” suggest<?>K the man as they slipped out of ■« lie house before full daylight, ‘-‘L wouldn’t tell .Brother Eulkersou "anytbmg about my hiding plaice. These min who reek my life are probably influential. Jf your father can truthfully deny any knowledge of my .being near, it will save him embarrassment. 1 don’t won’t to make enemies for him—and you.” The girl pondered- this phase or the situation judicially for a moment, then nodded gravely: “I reckon thet’s ther wisest way,” she agreed

(To be continued.)