A vision suddenly illumined her own soul, and she forgot her anxiety over Jim's queer moods.
Deeper and deeper grew the shadows of crag, gorge, and primeval forest.The speedometer on the foot-board registered five miles from the Mount Mitchell house.They had passed two cabins by the way, and still no sign of the third.
"Why couldn't she tell us how many miles, I'd like to know?" Jim grumbled.
"It's the way of the mountain folk.They're noncommittal on distances."He stopped the car and lighted the lamps.
"Going to be dark in a minute," he said."But I like this place," he added.
He picked his way with care over the narrow road.They crossed the little stream they were trailing, and the car crawled over the rocks along the banks at a snail's pace.
An owl called from a dead tree-top silhouetted against an open space of sky ahead.
"Must be a clearing there," Jim muttered.
He stopped the car and listened for the sounds of life about a house.
A vast, brooding silence filled the world.A wolf howled from theedge of a distant crag somewhere overhead.
"For God's sake!" Jim shivered."What was that?" "Only a mountain wolf crying for company." "Wolves up here?" he asked in surprise.
"A few--harmless, timid, lonesome fellows.It makes me sorry for them when I hear one.""Great country!I like it!" Jim responded.
Again she wondered why.What a queer mixture of strength and mystery--this man she had married!
He started the car, turned a bend in the road, and squarely in front, not more than a hundred yards away, gleamed a light in a cabin window--four tiny panes of glass.
"By Geeminy, we come near stopping in the front yard without knowing it!" he exclaimed."Didn't we?""I'm glad she's at home!" Mary exclaimed."The light shines with a friendly glow in these deep shadows.""Afraid, Kiddo?" he asked lightly."I don't like these dark places.""All right when you get used to 'em--safer than daylight."Again her heart beat at his queer speech.She shivered at the thought of this uncanny trait of character so suddenly developed today.She made an effort to throw off her depression.It would vanish with the sun tomorrow morning.
He picked his way carefully among the trees and stopped in front of the cabin door.The little house sat back from the road a hundred feet or more.
He blew his horn twice and waited.
A sudden crash inside, and the light went out.He waited a moment for it to come back.
Only darkness and dead silence.
"Suppose she dropped dead and kicked over the lamp?" Jim laughed."She probably took the lamp into another room.""No; it went out too quick--and it went out with a crash."He blew his horn again.Still no answer.
"Hello!Hello!" he called loudly.
Someone stirred at the door.Jim's keen ear was turned toward the house.
"I heard her bar the door, I'll swear it.""How foolish, Jim!" Mary whispered."You couldn't have heard it." "All the same I did.Here's a pretty kettle of fish!The old hellion'snot even going to let us in."
He seized the lever of his horn and blew one terrific blast after another, in weird, uncanny sobs and wails, ending in a shriek like the last cry of a lost soul.
"Don't, Jim!" Mary cried, shivering."You'll frighten her to death." "I hope so.""Go up and speak to her--and knock on the door."He waited again in silence, scrambled out of the car, and fumbled his way through the shadows to the dark outlines of the cabin.He found the porch on which the front door opened.
His light foot touched the log with sure step, and he walked softly to the cabin wall.The door was not yet visible in the pitch darkness.His auto lights were turned the other way and threw their concentrated rays far down into the deep woods.
He listened intently for a moment and caught the cat-like tread of the old woman inside.
"I say--hello, in there!" he called.
Again the sound of her quick, furtive step told him that she was on the alert and determined to defend her castle against all comers.What if she should slip an old rifle through a crack and blow his head off?
She might do it, too!
He must make her open the door.
"Say, what's the matter in there?" he asked persuasively.
A moment's silence, and then a gruff voice slowly answered: "They ain't nobody at home!""The hell they ain't!" Jim laughed."No!""Who are you?"
She hesitated and then growled back: "None o' your business.Who are you?""We're strangers up here--lost our way.It's cold--we got to stop for the night." "Ye can't--they's nobody home, I tell ye!" she repeated with sullen emphasis.
Jim broke into a genial laugh.
"Ah! Come on, old girl! Open up and be sociable.We're not revenue officers or sheriffs.If you've got any good mountain whiskey, I'll help you drink it.""Who are ye?" she repeated savagely.
"Ah, just a couple o' gentle, cooing turtle-doves-- a bride and groom.Loosen up, old girl; it's Christmas Eve--and we're just a couple o' gentle cooin' doves----"Jim kept up his persuasive eloquence until the light of the candle flashed through the window, and he heard her slip the heavy bar from the door.
He lost no time in pushing his way inside.
Nance threw a startled look at his enormous, shaggy fur coat--at the shining aluminum goggles almost completely masking his face.She gave a low, breathless scream, hurled the door-bar crashing to the floor and stared at him like a wild, hunted animal at bay, her thin hands trembling, the iron-gray hair tumbling over her forehead.
"Oh, my God!" she wailed, crouching back.
Jim gazed at her in amazement.He had forgotten his goggles and fur coat.
"What's the matter?" he asked in high-keyed tones of surprise.
Nance made no answer but crouched lower and attempted to put the table between them.
"What t'ell Bill ails you--will you tell me?" he asked with rising wrath."I THOUGHT you wuz the devil," the old woman panted."Now IKNOW it!"
Jim suddenly remembered his goggles and coat, and broke into a laugh.
"Oh!"
He removed his goggles and cap, threw back his big coat and squared his shoulders with a smile.
"How's that?"
