"A what?" Tip exclaimed.
"You live in a cave in the woods and eat roots and nuts and meditate,"
I explained.
"You think I'm a squirrel," snapped the fugitive. "No, sir, I live
with my cousin John Shadrack's widder."
"Ah!" I cried. "It's plain now, Tip, you deceiver. So there's the
attraction."
"The attraction?" Tip's brow was furrowed.
"Mrs. John Shadrack," I said.
The fugitive broke into a loud guffaw. He leaned over the gate and let
his pipe fall on the other side and beat the post violently with his
hands.
"I allow you've never seen John Shadrack's widder," said he.
"I'd like to, Tip. Will you take me with you to Happy Valley?"
The smile left Tip's face, and he gazed at me, open-mouthed with
astonishment.
"You would go over the mountain?" he said, drawling every word.
Over the mountain there is peace! It is cold and gray there in the
early morning, and the hills are bleak and black, but I remember days
when from this same spot I've watched the deep, soft blue and green;
I've sat here as the hills were glowing in the changing evening lights
and our valley grew dark and cold.
Pages:
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251