5. In which Cassandra goes to David with her trouble and gives frail her promise. After his sleep on hanging rock, David, allured by the sunset, remained long in his doorway idly smoking his pipe and ruminating, until a normal and delightful hunger sent him striding down the winding path toward the blazing hearth where he had found such kindly welcome the evening before. There, seated tilted back against the chimney side, he found a huge youth, innocent of face and gentle of mean, who rose as he entered and offered him his chair, and smiled and tossed back a falling lock from his forehead as he gave him greeting. This he is, Dr. Thring, frail, who done me up this away. He allows he's going to get me well so I can walk again. How are you, sir? You certainly do look a-heat better when you come last evening. So I am indeed, and you?" David's voice ring out gladly. He went to the bed and bent above the old woman, looking her over carefully. Are you comfortable? Do the weights hurt you? he asked. I can't say is there right comfortable, but if they'll help me to get round again, I reckon I can bear it. Early that morning, with but the simplest means, David had arranged bandages and weights of wood to hold her in position. She was so slight he hoped the broken hip might ride itself with patience and care. More especially as he learned that her age was not so advanced as her appearance had led him to suppose. Now all suspicion of him seemed to have vanished from the household. Hoyle, happy when the fascinating doctor noticed him, leaned against his chair, drinking in his words eagerly. But when Thring drew him to his knee and discovered the cruel mark across his face and asked how it had happened, a curious change crept over them all. Every face became as expressionless as a mask. Only the boy's eyes sought his brothers, then turned with a frightened look toward Cassandra as if seeking help. Thring persisted in his examination and lifted the boy's face toward the light. If the big brother had done this deed, he should be made to feel shame for it. The welt barely escaped the eye, which was swollen and discolored, and all together the face presented a pitiable appearance. As David talked, the hard look which had been exercised for a time by the gentle influence of that home had more than all by the sight of Cassandra performing the gracious services of the household, settled again upon the youth's face. His lips were drawn and his eyes ceased following Cassandra and became fixed and narrowed on one spot. You have come near losing that splendid eye of yours. Do you know that little chap? Hoyle grinned. It's a shame, you know. I have something up at the cabin would help to heal this, but he glanced about the room. What are those dried herbs up there? There is witch hazel, yanda, and the cupboard. Cass, you mount Byle up some for the doctor, said the mother. Tell the doctor how come it happened, son.  A trampling of horses hooves was heard outside. Go up, Garrett, to your own place, frail. Which be Biden here for? She added in a hushed voice, but the youth sat doggedly still. Cassandra went out and quickly returned. It's your own horse, frail. Poor beast. He's limping like he's been hurt. He's loose out there. You better look to him. Uncle Carew wrote him down and left him, I reckon. Frail rose and went out, and David continued his care of the child. How was it? Did your brother hurt you? No, he never hurted me all his life. It was my own self. Cassandra patted the child on his shoulder. He can't be to tell how come he's hurted this way. He's that proud.    You mind, son? Doctor can fix you up all right. A sigh of relief trembled through the boy's lips, and David asked no more questions.  He pointed to the bed whereon his mother lay, and they all laughed, relieving the tension. Naaaw, shilled the mother's voice.  I wished he could, cried the child. No wit troubled by the suggestion. I'd borrow heat for to get my head straight like frails. Just then his brother entered the room.  Again, they all laughed, and the big youth smiled such a sweet infantile smile as he looked down on his little brother that David's heart warmed toward him. He tussled the boy's hair as he passed and drew him along to the chimney side, away from the doctor. It's a rock good head, I'm thinking, if it be set to for round. There is a heap in it too. More than they say is in mine, I reckon. He's getting too big to set that away on your knee frail. You make a baby of him, said the mother. The child made an effort to slip down, but frail's arm closed more tightly about him, and he nestled back contentedly. So the evening passed, and Thring retired early to the bed in the loom shed. He knew something serious was amiss, but of what nature he could not conjecture, unless it were that frail had been making illicit whiskey. Whatever it was, he chose to manifest no curiosity. In the morning, he saw nothing of the young man, and as a warm rain was subtly falling, he was glad to get the use of the horse, and rode away happily in the rain, with food provided for both himself and the beast sufficient for the day slung in a sack behind him. Wrecking you'll come back here this evening, queried the old mother as he adjusted her bandages before leaving. I'll see how the cabin feels after I have had a fire in the chimney all day. As he left, he paused by Cassandra's side. She was standing by the spout of running water, waiting for her pail to fill. If it happens that you need for me, anything at all, send Hoyle and I'll come immediately. Will you? She lifted her eyes to his gratefully. Thank you, was all she said, but his look impelled more. You are right kind, she added. Hardly satisfied, he departed, but turned in his saddle to glance back at her. She was swaying sideways with the weight of the full pail, straining one slender arm as she boarded into the house. Who did all the work there, he wondered? That great youth ought to relieve her of such tasks. Where was he? Little did he dream that the eyes of the great youth were at that moment fixed darkly upon him from the small pane of glass set in under the cabin roof, which lighted frail's garret room. David stabled the horse in the log shed built by Dr. Hoyle for his own beast. For what is life in the mountains without a horse? Then lingered a while in his doorway, looking out over the billows of ranges seen dimly through the fine veil of the falling rain. A wonderful perfect world that seemed to him, seen through the veil of the rain. The fireplace in the cabin was built of rough stone, wide and high, and there he made him a brisk fire with fat pine and brushwood. He drew in great logs which he heaped on the broad stone hearth to dry. He piled them on the fire until the flames leaped and roared up the chimney, so long unused. He sat before it, delighting in it like a boy with a bonfire, and blessed his friend for sending him there, smoking a pipe in his honour. Among the doctor's few cooking utensils he found a stout iron tea kettle and sallied out again in the wet to rinse it and fill it with fresh water from the spring. He had had only coffee since leaving Canada. Now he would have a good cup of decent tea, so he hung the kettle on the crane and swung it over the fire. In his search for his tea most of his belongings were unpacked and tossed about the room in wild disorder, and a copy of Marius the Epicurean was brought to light. His kettle boiled over into the fire and immediately the small articles on his pine table were shoved back in confusion to make room for his tea things, his bottle of milk, his cornpone, and his book. Being by this time weary he threw himself on his couch and contentment began. His hot tea within reach, his door wide open to the sweetness of the day, his fire dancing and crackling with good cheer, and his book in his hand. The delicious idleness and rest, no disorders to heal, no bones to mend, no problems to solve, a little sipping of his tea, a little reading of his book, a little luxuriating in the warmth and the pleasant odor of pine boughs burning, a little dreamy reverie watching through the open door the changing lights on the hills and listening to an occasional bird note, liquid and sweet. The hour drew near to noon and the sky lightened and a rift of deep blue stretched across the open space before him. Lazily he speculated as to how he was to get his provisions brought up to him and when and how he might get his mail, but laughed to think how little he cared for a hundred and one things which had filled his life and dogged his days ere this. Had he reached nirvana? Nay, he could still hunger and thirst. A footstep was heard without and a figure appeared in his doorway quietly standing making no move to enter. It was Cassandra and he was pleased. My first visitor, he exclaimed, come in, come in.   You walked, didn't you? And your feet are wet, of course. Sit here and dry them. She pushed back her son Bonnet and held out to him a quaint little basket made of willow widths which she carried but she took no step forward.  He took the basket and lifted the cover. I brought you some potrages, she said simply. There lay three quail and a large sweet potato roasted in the ashes on their hearth as he had seen the corn-pone baked the evening before and a few round white cakes which he afterwards learned were beaten biscuit, all warm from the fire. How am I ever to repay you people for your kindness to me? He said.  Never mind the mud. See how I've tracked it in all the morning? Come. He led her to the fire and replenished it while she sat passively looking down on the hearth as if she scarcely heated him. Not knowing how to talk to her or what to do with her, he busied himself trying to bring a semblance of order to the cabin, occasionally dropping a remark to which she made no response. Then he also relapsed into silence and the minutes dragged, aged long minutes they seemed to him. In his efforts at order he spread his rug over the couch, tossed a crimson cushion on it and sundry articles beneath it to get them out of his way, then occupied himself with his book, while vainly trying to solve the riddle which his enigmatic caller presented to his imagination. All at once she rose, sought out a few dishes from the cupboard and, taking a neatly smoothed coarse cloth from the basket, spread it over one end of the table and arranged there on his dinner. Quietly David watched her, following her example of silence until forced to speak. Finally he decided to question her if only he could think of questions which would not trespass on her private affairs when at last she broke the stillness. I can't find any coffee. I ought to have brought some. I'll go fetch some if you'll eat now. Your dinner'll get cold. He showed her how he had made tea and was in no need of coffee. We'll throw this out and make fresh, he said gaily. Then you must have a cup with me, while you have enough to eat here for three people. She seemed weary and sad and he determined to probe far enough to elicit some confidence, but the more fluent he became, the more effectively she withdrew from him. See here, he said at last, sit by the table with me, and I will eat to your heart's content. I'll prepare you a cup of tea as I do my own, and then I want you to drink it. Come. She yielded. His way of saying come seemed like a command to be obeyed. Now that is more like. He began his dinner with a relish. Won't you share this game with me? It is fine, you know. He could not thank her silent from embarrassment, for her poise seemed undisturbed except for the anxious look in her eyes. He determined to fathom the cause, and since no finesse availed, there remained but one way. The direct question. What is it? he said kindly. Tell me the trouble and let me help you. She looked full into his eyes then, and her lips quivered. Something rose in her throat, and she swallowed helplessly. It was so hard for her to speak. The trouble had struck deeper than he dreamed. It is a trouble, isn't it? Can't you tell it to me? Yes. I reckon there isn't any trouble worse than ours. No, I reckon there's nothing worse. Why, Miss Cassandra? Because it's sin, and the wages of sin is death. Her tone was hopeless, and the sadness of it went to his heart. Is it whiskey? he asked. Yes. It's whiskey-stilling, and worse, it's—she turned deathly white. Too sad to weep, she still held control of her voice. It's a heap worse. Don't try to tell me what it is, he cried. Only tell me how I may help you. It's not your sin, surely, so you don't have to bear it. It's not mine, but I do have to bear it. I wish my bearing it was all. Tell me, if—if a man has done such a sin, is it right to help him get away? If it is that big brother of yours whom I saw last night, I can't believe he has done anything so very wicked. You say it is not the whiskey? Maybe it was the whiskey first. Then, I don't know exactly how came it. I reckon he does it himself. He's not my brother, not rightly, but he has been the same as such. They telegraphed me to come home quick. Bishop Towers told me a little, all he knew, but he didn't know what all was it, only some wrong to call the officers and set them after frail. Poor frail. He—he told me himself last evening. She paused again, and the pallor slowly left her face, and the red surged into her cheeks and mounted to the waves of her heavy hair. It is frail, then, who is in trouble, and you wish me to help him get away. She looked down and was silent, but I am a stranger and know nothing about the country. He pushed his chair away from the table and leaned back, regarding her intently. Oh, I am afraid for him!  I prefer not to know what he has done. Just explain to me your plan and how I can help. You know better than I. I can't understand how comes that I can tell you.  If I could get some clothes nobody has ever seen frail wear, if I could make him look different from a mountain boy, maybe he could get to some town down the mountain and find work. But now they would meet up with him before he was half-way there. Thring rose and began pacing the room. Is there any hurry? he demanded, stopping suddenly before her. Yes. Then why have you waited all this time to tell me? She lifted her eyes to his in silence, and he knew well that she had not spoken because she could not, and that had he not ventured with his direct questions, she would have left him, carrying her burden with her, as hopelessly silent as when she came. He sat beside her again and gently urged her to tell him without further delay all she had in her mind. You feel quite sure that if he could get down the mountain side without being seen, he would be safe. Where do you mean to send him? You don't think he would try to return? What? No, I reckon not. If, uh, her face flamed and she drew on her bonnet, hiding the crimson flesh in its deep shadow. She knew that without the promise he had asked, the boy would as surely return as that the sun would continue to rise and set. He must stay, she spoke desperately and hurriedly. If he can just make out to stay long enough to learn a little, how to live, and will keep away from bad men, if I—he knows enough to make mean corn liquor now, but he never was bad. He has always been different, and he's awful smart. I can't think how he came to change so. Taking the empty basket with her, she walked toward the door and David followed her. Thank you for that good dinner, he said. And Sally fetched the cartridges, her old man got them for mother, and she said you sure ought to have half. Sally said the sheriff had gone back up the mountain, and I'm afraid he'll come to our place again this evening. Likely they're breaking up frail still now. Well, that will be a good deed, won't it? The huge bonnet had hid her face from him, but now she lifted her eyes frankly to his, with a flash of radiance through her tears. I reckon, was all she said. Are they likely to come up here, do you think, those men? Not hardly. They would have to search on foot here. It's out of their way. Only no place on the mountain is safe for frail now. Send him to me quickly, then. I have cast my lot with you, mountain people, for some time to come, and your cause shall be mine. She paused at the door with grateful words on her lips, unuttered. Don't stop for thanks, Miss Cassandra. They are wasted between us. You have opened your doors to me, a stranger, and that is enough. Hurry, don't grieve, and see here. I may not be able to do anything, but I'll try. And if I can't get down to-night, won't you come again in the morning and tell me all about it? Instantly he thought better of his request. Yet who was here to criticise? He laughed as he thought how firmly the world and its conventions held him. Sweet, simple-hearted child that she was, why indeed should she not come? Still he called after her. If you are too busy, send Hoyle. I may be down to see your mother anyway. She paused an instant in her hurried walk. I'll be right glad to come if I can help you anyway. He stood watching her until she passed below his view, as her long easy steps took her rapidly on, although she seemed to move slowly. Then he went back to his fire, and her words repeated themselves insistently in his mind. I'll be right glad to come if I can help you anyway. Aunt Sally was seated in the chimney-corner smoking when Cassandra returned. Where is he? she cried. He couldn't set a minute. He was that restless. He loaded go back up to the rock where you found him last evening. Without a word, Cassandra turned and fled up the steep toward the head of the fall. Every moment she knew was precious. Frail met her halfway down and took her hand, leading her as he had been used to do when she was his little sister, and listened to her plans docilely enough. I mean you to go down to Farrington, to Bishop Towers. He will give you work. She had not mentioned Thring. Frail laughed. Don't, Frail. How can you laugh? I really ain't laughing, Cass. Seems like you forget how can I get down the mountain. But I reckon I'll try if you say so. Then she explained how the doctor had sent for him to come up there quickly and how he would help him. You must go now, Frail. You hear? Now. Again he laughed bitterly this time. Yes, I reckon he'll be right glad to help me get away from you. I'll go myself in my own way. Under the holly tree they had paused and suddenly she feared lest the boy at her side return to his mood of the evening before.  Come, come, she cried. I'll go with you, Frail. No, you won't go with me neither, he said stubbornly, drawing back. Frail, she pleaded. Hear to me. I'm listening. Frail, I'm afraid. They may be on their way now, for all we know they may be right now. I've done got used to Farrington now. It don't hurt none. Only one thing hurts now. I've been up to see Dr. Thring, and he's promised he'll fix you up some way so that if anybody does see you they they'll think you belong somewhere else and never guess who you be. Frail, go. He held her with his arm about her waist, half carrying her with him, instead of allowing her to move her own free gait, and she tried vainly with her fingers to pull his hands away. But his muscles were like iron under her touch. He felt her helplessness and liked it. Her voice shook as she pleaded with him. Oh Frail, hear to me, she wailed. I'll hear to you if you'll hear to me. Seems like I've lost my fear now. I ain't caring no more. If I should see the sheriff this minute, and he were putting his rope around my neck right now, I wouldn't care that one thing, just one thing.  I reckon I've done that. But I'd walk till I dropped, and work till I died for it. He stood still a moment, and again she essayed to move his hands. But he only held her closer. Oh hurry Frail, I'm afraid. Oh Frail, don't. Be you fear to me, Cass? You know that Frail, leave go and hear to me. Be you fear enough to give me your promise, Cass?  We'll go back. I'll allow the amount as well take me first as last. I ain't no heart laughing me. I don't care for that there doctor man helping me know how. He choked. Leave me go, and I'll give you promise for promise, Frail. I can't make out is it sin or not. But if God can forgive and love, when you turn and seek him, the Bible do say so, Frail, but seem like you don't repent your deed whilst you look at me like that way. She paused trembling. If you could be sorry like you ought to be, Frail, and turn your heart, I could die for that. He still held her, but lifted one shaking hand above his head. Before God, I promise. What, Frail? Say what you promise. He still held his hand high. All you ask of me, Cass. Tell me word by word and I'll promise fair. Will you repent, Frail? Yes. You will not drink? I will not drink. You will heed when your own heart tells you the right way. I will heed when my heart tells me the way. It will be the way to you, Cass. Oh, don't say it that way, Frail. Now say, so help me God, and don't think of me whilst you say it. Put your hand on mine, Cass. Lift it up and say with me that word. She placed her palm on his uplifted palm. So help me God, they said together. Then, with streaming tears, she put her arms about his neck and gently drew his face down to her own. I'll go back now, Frail, and you do all I've said. Go quick. I'll write Bishop Towers and he'll watch out for you and find you work. Let Dr. Thuring help you. He sure is a good man. Oh, if you only could write. I'll learn. You'll have a heap more to learn than you guess. I've been there and I know. Don't give up, Frail, and— And stay. I ain't going to give up with your promise here, Cass. Kiss me. She did so, and he slowly released her, looking back as he walked away. Oh, hurry, Frail. Don't look back. It's a bad omen. She turned, and without one backward glance, descended the mountain. End of Chapter 5 Recording by Hailey Pereira Chapter 6 OF THE MOUNTAIN GIRL This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Herndon Bell THE MOUNTAIN GIRL by Payne Erskine Chapter 6 In which David aids Frail to make his escape. Elated by his talk with Cassandra, Frail walked eagerly forward. But as he neared Thring's cabin, he moved more slowly. Why should he let that doctor help him? He could reach Farrington some way, traveling by night, and hiding in the daytime. But David was watching for him, and strolled down to meet him. Good morning. Your sister says there is no time to lose. Come in here, and we'll see if we can find a way out of this trouble. Having learned not to expect any response to remarks not absolutely demanding one, and not wishing the silence to dominate, David talked on as he led Frail into the cabin and carefully closed the door behind them. Thring's intuition was subtle, and his nature intense and strong. He had been used to dealing with men, and knew that when he wished to, he usually gained his point. Feeling the antagonism in Frail's heart toward himself, he determined to overcome it. Be it pride, jealousy, or what not, it must give way. He had learned only that morning that circumlocution or pretence of any sort would only drive the youth further into his fortress of silence, and to close his nature a sealed well of turbid feeling against him. Therefore he chose a manner pleasantly frank, taking much for granted, and giving the boy no chance to refuse his help by assuming it to have been already accepted. We are about the same size, I think. Yes. Here are some things I laid out for you. You must look as much like me as possible, and as unlike yourself, you know. Sit here, and we'll see what can be done for your head. You're right, Fair, and I'm dark. Oh, that makes very little difference. It's the general appearance we must get at.  I reckon I can do it. It's making you a heap of trouble. David was pleased to note the boy's mood softening and helped him on. I'm no hand as a barber, but I'll try it a little. It's easier for me to get out than for you. He quickly and deftly cut away the falling curl, and even shaved the corners of the forehead a bit, and clipped the eyebrows to give them a different angle. All this will grow again, you know. You only want it to last until the storm blows over. The youth surveyed himself in the mirror and smiled, but grimly. I do look a heap different. That's right. We want you to look like quite another man, and now for your chin. You can use a razor. Here is warm water and soap. This suit of clothes is such as we tramp about in at home, different from anything you see up here, you know. I'll take my pipe and book and sit there on the rock and keep an eye out, lest anyone climb up here to look around. And you can have the cabin all to yourself. You see what to do. Make yourself look as if you came from my part of the world. Thring glanced at his watch. Work fast, but take time enough to do it well. Say, half an hour. Will that do? Yes, I reckon. Then David left him, and the moments passed until an hour had slipped away, but still the youth did not appear, and he was on the point of calling out to him when he saw the twisted form of little foil scrambling up through the underbrush. They're coming. He panted with wild and frightened eyes fixed on David's face. I see him up the road, and I hear him say there was going to hunt round the house good and then search the cabin over hanging rock. The poor child burst into tears. Do you allow those chute-frails, sir? They'd not reach the house when you saw them. They'll be there by now, sir! sobbed the boy. Then run and hide yourself. Crawl under the rock into the smallest hole you can. They mustn't see that you have been here, and don't be frightened, little man. We'll look after Frail. The child disappeared like a squirrel in a hole, and Thring went to the cabin door and knocked imperatively. It was opened instantly, and Frail stood transformed. His old soiled garments lying in a heap at his side, as if he had crept out of his chrysalis. A full half-hour he had been lingering, abashed at himself and dreading to appear. The slight growth of adolescence was gone from lip and chin, and Thring was amazed and satisfied. Good! he cried. You've done well. The youth smiled, shame-facedly, yet held his head high. With the heavy golf stockings, knee-bridges, and belt and jacket, even to himself he seemed another man, and an older man he looked by five years.  You've thrown off the old man with these. David touched the heap of clothing on the floor with his foot. Hoyle is here. He says the men are on their way here, and have stopped at the house. Instead of turning pale, as Thring had expected, a dark flush came into Frail's face, and his hand clenched. It was the ferocity of fear, and not the deadliness of it, which seized him with a sort of terrible anger that David felt through his silence. Don't lose control of yourself, boy, he said, placing his hand gently on his shoulder, and making his touch felt by the intimate closing of his slender fingers upon the firmly-rounded, lean muscles beneath them. Follow my directions, and be quick. Put your own clothes in this bag. He hastily tossed a few things out of his pigskin release. Cram them in. That's right. Don't leave a trace of yourself here for them to find. Pull this cap over your eyes, and walk straight down that path, and pass them by as if they were nothing to you. If they speak to you, of course, nod to them, and pass on. But if they ask you a question, say politely, Big Pardon? Just like that, as though you did not understand. Just like that, as though you did not understand. And wait. Don't hurry away from them as if you were afraid of them. They won't recognize you unless you give yourself away by your manner. See? Now say it over after me. Good. Take these cigars. He placed his own case in the boy's vest pocket. Better leave them free, sir. I don't like to take all your things this way. He handed back the case and put them loose in his pocket. Very well. If you smoke, just like this, and walk on. And if they ask you anything about yourself, if you have seen a chap of the sort, understand. Offer them each a cigar, and tell them no.  Touch it as if you were going to lift it, only so. I would take care not to arrive at the house while they are there. It will be easier for you to meet them on the path. It will be the sooner over. Thring held out his hand, and Frail took it awkwardly, then turned away, swallowing the thanks he did not know how to utter, for the time being David had conquered. The lad took a few steps, and then turned back. I'd like to thank you, sir, and I'd like to pay for these here. I allow to get work, and send the money for them. Don't be troubled about that. We'll see later. Only remember one thing. I don't know what you've done, nor why you must run away like this. I haven't asked. I may be breaking the laws of the land as much as you in helping you off. I am doing it, because until I know of some downright evil in you, I'm bound to help you. And the best way to repay me will be for you to, you know, do right. Are you doing this for her? He looked off at the hills as he spoke, and not at the doctor. Yes, for her, and for you. Don't linger now, and don't forget my directions. The youth turned on the doctor a quick look. Thring could not determine, as he thought it over afterward, if there was in it a trace of malevolence. It was like a flash of steel between them, even as they smiled, and again bad each other good-bye. For a time all was silent around hanging rock. Thring sat reading and pondering, expecting each moment to hear voices from the direction Frail had taken. He could not help smiling as he thought over his attempt to make this mountain boy into the typical English tourist, and how unique an imitation was the result. He called out to comfort Hoyle's fearful little heart. Your brother's all safe now. Come out here until we hear men's voices. I better stay where I be, I reckon. They won't talk none when they get nigh here. Are you comfortable down there? Yes, sir. Hoyle was right. The two men detailed for this climb walked in silence to give no warning of their approach until they appeared in the rear of the cabin and entered the shed where Frail's horse was stabled. Sure were they then that its owner was trapped at last. They were greatly surprised at finding the premises occupied. David continued his reading unconcerned until addressed. Good evening, sir. He greeted them genially, and invited them into his cabin, determined to treat them with his royal hospitality as was in his power. To offer them tea was hardly the thing, he reasoned. So he stirred up the fire while discounting on the beauty of the location and the health-giving quality of the air. And when his kettle was boiling he brought out from his limited stores whiskey, lemons, and sugar, and proceeded to brew them so finer quality of English toddy as to warm the cockles of their hearts. Questioning them, on his own account, he learned how best to get his supplies brought up the mountains and many things about the region interesting to him. At last one of them ventured a remark about the horse and how he came by him, at which he explained very frankly that the widow down below had allowed him the use of the animal for his keep until her son returned. They loud he weren't coming back to these parts very soon. And David expressed satisfaction. His evident ignorance of mountain affairs convinced them that nothing was to be gained from him, and they asked no direct questions and finally took their departure with a high opinion of their host and quite content. Then David called his little accomplice from his hiding place, took him into his cabin, and taught him to drink tea with milk and sugar in it, gave him crisp biscuits from his small remainder in store, and still further to comfort his heart, searched out a card on which was a picture of an ocean liner on an open sea, with flags flying, great rolls of vapor and smoke trailing across the sky, with white-capped waves beneath and white clouds above. The boy's eyes shone with delight. He twisted himself about to look up in Thring's face as he questioned him concerning it, and almost forgot frail in his happiness as he trudged home hugging the precious card to his bosom. Contentedly Thring proceeded to set his abode in order after the disarray of the morning, undisturbed by any question as to the equity of his deed. His mind was in a state of rebellion against the usual workings of the criminal courts, and biased by his observation of the youth he felt that his act might lead as surely toward absolute justice, perhaps more surely than the opposite course would have done. Erelong he found a few tools carefully packed away, as was the habit of his old friend, and the labor of preparing his canvas room began. But first a ladder hanging under the eaves of the cabin must be repaired, and long before the slant rays of the setting sun fell across his hilltop he found himself too weary to descend to the fall place, even with the aid of his horse. With a measure of discouragement at his undeniable weakness he led the animal to water where a spring bubbled sweet and clear in an embowered hollow quite near his cabin, then stretched himself on the couch before the fire with no other light than its cheerful blaze, too exhausted for his book, and disinclined even to prepare his supper. After a time David's weariness gave place to a pleasant drowsiness, and he rose, arranged his bed, and replenished the fire, drank a little hot milk, and dropped into a wholesome slumber, as dreamless and sweet as that of a tired child. Such a sense of peace and retirement closed around him, there alone on his mountain, that he slept with his cabin door open to the sweet air, crisp and cold, lulled by the murmuring of the swaying pine-tops without, and the crevice of the sweet air out, and the crackling and crumbling of burning logs within. Rolled in his warm scotch rug he did not feel the chill that came as his fire burned lower, but slept until daybreak when the clear note of a Carolina wren, thrice repeated close to his open door, sounded his revely. Deeply inhaling the cold air he lay and mused over the events of the previous day. How quickly and naturally he had been drawn into the interest of his neighbors below him, and had absorbed the peculiar atmosphere of their isolation, making a place for himself, shouting out, almost as if they never existed, the harrisments and questionings of his previous life. Was it a buoyancy he had received from his mountain height and the morning air? Whatever the cause, he seems to have settled with them all, and arrived at last where his spirit needed but to rest open and receptive before its creator, to be swept clear of the dross of the world's estimates of values and exalted with aspiration. Every long breath he drew seemed to make his mental vision clearer. God and his own soul, was that all? Not quite. God and the souls of men and of women, of all who came within his environment, a world made beautiful, made sweet, and health-giving for these, and with them to know God, to feel him near. So Christ came to be close to humanity. A mist of skepticism that had hung over him and clouded the later years of his young manhood suddenly rolled away, dispelled by the splendor of this triumphant thought. Even as the rays of the rising sun came at the same moment to dispel the earth-mists and flood the hills with light. Light. That was it. In him is no darkness at all. Joyously he set himself to the preparation for the day. The true meaning of life was revealed to him. The discouragement of the evening before was gone. Yet now, should he sit down in ecstatic dreaming? It must be joy in life, movement, in whatever was to be done, whether in satisfying a wholesome hunger, in creating warmth for his body, or in conquering the seeds of decay and disease therein, and keeping it strong and full of reactive power for his soul's sake. It was a revelation to him, of the eternal God, wonder-working and all-pervading. Now no longer with a haunting sense of fear would he search and learn, but with a glad perception of the beautiful orderliness of the universe, so planned and arranged for the souls of men when only they should learn how to use their own lives, and to tune themselves to give forth music to the touch of the God of Love. A coal bath, the pure air, and his abstemiousness of the previous evening, gave him a compelling hunger, and it was with satisfaction he discovered so large a portion of his dinner of yesterday remaining to be warmed for his morning meal. What he should do later, when dinner-time arrived, he knew not, and he laughed to think how he was living from hour to hour, content as the small wren fluting beside his door his carefree note. Ah, yes. God's in his heaven, all's right with the world. The wren's note reminded him of a slender box which always accompanied his wanderings, and which had come to light rolled in the jacket which he had given frail as part of his disguise. He opened it and took therefrom the joints of a silver flute. How long it had lain untouched. He fitted the parts, and strolled out to the rock, and there as he gazed at the shifting subtle beauty spread all before him and around him, he lifted the wand-like instrument to his lips, and began to play. At first he only imitated the wren, a few short notes joyously uttered. Then, as the springs of his own happiness welled up within him, he poured forth a tumultuous flood of trills, a dancing staccato of mounting notes, shifting and falling, rising, floating away, and then returning in silvery echoes, bringing their own gladness with them. The peon of praise ended, the work of the day began, and he set himself with all the nervous energy of his nature to the finishing of his canvas room. Again, ere the completion of the task, he found he had been expending his strength too lavishly, but this time he accepted his weariness more philosophically, glad if only he might labor and rest as the need came. Nearly the whole of the glorious day was still left him. In moving his couch nearer the door, he found his efforts impeded by some heavy object underneath it, and discovered, to his surprise, and almost dismay, the identical pigskin valise which Frail had taken away with him the day before. How came it there? No one, he was certain, had been near his cabin, since Hoyle had trotted home yesterday, hugging his picture to his breast. David drew it out into the light and opened it. There, on the top, lay the cigars he had placed in the youth's pocket, and there also every article of wearing apparel he had seen disappear down the laurel-grown path on Frail's life body twelve hours or more ago. He cast the articles out upon the floor and turned them over wonderingly, then shoved them aside, and lay down for his quiet siesta. He would learn from Cassandra the meaning of this. He hoped the young man had got off safely, yet the fact of finding his kindly efforts thus thrust back upon him disturbed him. Why had it been done? As he pondered thereon he saw again the steel-blue flash in the young man's eyes as he turned away, and resolved to ask no questions, even of Cassandra. End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 of The Mountain Girl by Paine Urskine This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Brendan Stallard. The Mountain Girl by Paine Urskine Chapter 7 In which Frail goes down to Farrington in his own way. Frail felt himself exalted by the oath he had sworn to Cassandra, as if those words had lifted the burden from his heart, and taken away the stain. As he walked away in his disguise it seemed to him that he had acted under an irresistible spell cast upon him by this Englishman, who was to bide so near Cassandra to be seen by her every day, to be admired by her, while he who had the first right must hide himself away from her, shielding himself in that man's clothes. Fine as they seemed to him, they only abashed him and filled him with a sense of obligation to a man he dreaded. Like a child realizing his danger only when it was close upon him, his old recklessness returned, and he moved down the path with his head held high, looking neither to the right nor to the left, planning how he might be rid of these clothes and evade his pursuers unaided. The men climbing toward him as he descended, hearing his footsteps above them, parted and stood watching, only half screened by the thick-leaved shrubs, not ten feet from him on either side, but so elated was he and eager in his plans that he passed them by unseeing, and thus Thring's efforts saved him in spite of himself, for so amazed were they at the presence of such a traveler in such a place that they allowed him to pass unchallenged until he was too far below them to make speech possible. Later when they found David seated on his rock they assumed the young man to be a friend and thought no further of it. Frail soon left the path and followed the stream to the head of the fall, where he lingered tormented by his own thoughts and filled with conflicting emotions in sight of his home. To go down to the settlement and see the world had its allurements, but to go in this way never to return, never to feel again the excitement of his mountain life evading the law and conquering its harassments was bitter. It has been his joy and delight in life to be masterfully triumphant over those set to take him, too cunning to be found, too daring and strong to be overcome, to take desperate chances to win out. All these he considered his right and part of the game of life, but to slink away like a hunted fox followed by the dogs of the law, because in a blind frenzy he had slain his own friend, what if he had promised to repent there was the law after him still? If only his fate were a tangible thing to be grappled with, to meet a foe and fight hand to hand to the death was not so hard as to yield himself to the inevitable. Suddenly he sat with his head in his hands and life seemed to stretch out before him leading to a black chasm, but one ray of light was there to follow. Cass! Cass! If only he would accept the help offered him and go to the station, take his seat in the train and find himself in Farrington while his pursuers were scouring the mountains for him. He might, he might win out. Moodily and stubbornly he resisted the thought. At last, screened by the darkness, he turned out his soiled and torn garments and divesting himself of every article Thring had given him. He placed them carefully in the valise, then relieved of one humiliation, he set himself again on the path toward hanging rock cabin. As he passed the great holly-tree where Cassandra had sat beside him, he placed his hand on the stone and paused. His heart leaned toward her. He wanted her. Should he go down to her now and refuse to leave her? But no, he had promised. Something warm splashed down upon his hand as he bent over the rock. He sprang up, ashamed to weep, and, seizing the doctor's valise, plunged on through the shadows up the steep ascent. He had no definite idea of how he would explain his act, for he did not comprehend his own motives. It was only a wordless repugnance that possessed him, vague and sullen, against this man's offered friendship, and his relief was great when he found David asleep before his open door. Stealthily he entered and placed his burden beneath the couch, gazed a moment at the sleeping face whereon the firelight still played, and softly crept away. Cassandra should know that she had no need to thank the Englishman for his freedom. Then came the weary tramp down the mountain, skulking and hiding by day, and struggling on again by night, taking by-paths and unused trails, finding his uncertain way by moonlight and starlight, barked at by dogs, and followed by hounds baying loudly whenever he came near a human habitation, wading icy streams and plunging through gorges to avoid cabins or settlements, keeping life in him by gnawing raw turnips, which had been left in the fields un-gathered. Until at last, pallid, weary, dirty, and utterly forlorn, he found himself in the half-light of the dawn of the fourth day near Farrington. Shivering with cold, he stole along the village street and hid himself in the bishop's grounds until he should see someone astir in the house. The bishop had sat late the night before, half expecting him, for he had received Cassandra's letter, also one from Thring. Neither letter threw light on Frail's deed, although Cassandra gave him to understand that something more serious than illicit distilling had necessitated his flight. David's was a joyous letter, craving his companionship whenever his affairs might bring him near, but expressing the greatest contentment. When Black Carrie went out to unlock the chickenhouse door and fetch wood for her morning fire, she screamed with fright as the young man in his wretched plight stepped before her.  I'm no poor white trash, he murmured. Bebishop Toa in the house. Causie in the house. What yarsposes he be this time the morning? She made with all haste towards her kitchen, bearing her armful of wood, muttering as she went. I reckon I'll sit here, Aunt Well, he can see me. He said, dropping to the doorstep in sheer exhaustion, and there he was allowed to sit while she prepared breakfast in her own leisurely way, having no intention of disturbing her white folks for no such trash. The odor of coffee and hot cakes was maddening to the starving boy as he watched her through the open door, yet he passively sat, withdrawn into himself, seeking in no way either to secure a portion of the food or to make himself known. After a time he heard faintly voices behind the kitchen and knew the family must be there at breakfast, but still he sat, saying nothing. At last the door of the inner room was burst open, and a child ran out, demanding scraps for her puppy. I may, I may too, feed him in the dining room. Mama says I may after we're through.  No, honey, go out on destoop with your fool-hound dog. And the tiny, fair girl, with her plate of scraps and her small black dog leaping and dancing at her heels, tumbled themselves out where frail sat. Scattering her crusts as she ran, she darted back, calling, Papa, Papa, a man's come, he's here. The small dog further emphasized the fact by barking fiercely at the intruder, albeit from a safe distance. Yas, said Carrie, as the bishop came out, led by his little daughter. He'd been here since long foe's son up. Why didn't you call me, he said sternly.  He ain't sayin' nothin', just sit there. She continued muttering her crusty dislike of tramps, as the bishop led his call her through her kitchen, and sent his little daughter to look after her puppy. He took frail into his private study, and presently returned, and himself carried him food, placing it before him on a small table where many a hungry caller had been fed before. Then he occupied himself at his desk, while he quietly observed the boy. He saw that the youth was too worn and weak to be dealt with rationally at first, and he felt it difficult to affix the thought of a desperate crime upon one so gentle of mean and innocent of face. But he knew his people well, and what masterful passions often slept beneath a mild and harmless exterior. Nor was it the first time he had been called upon to adjust a conflict between his own conscience and the law. Often, in his office of priest, he had been the recipient of confidences which no human pressure of law could ever rest from him. So now he proceeded to draw from frail his full and free confession. Very carefully and lovingly, he trespassed in the secret chambers of this troubled soul, until at last the boy laid bare his heart.  All was told without fervour, a simple passive narration of events. No one could believe, while listening to him, that storms of passion and hatred and fear had torn him over the overwhelming longing he had suffered at the thought of Cassandra. But when the bishop touched on the subject of repentance, the hidden force was revealed. It was if the tormenting spirit within him had cried out loudly, instead of the low monotonous tone in which he said, Yes, I can repent now he's dead, but if he were living and robbed me again in that way like he done, I reckon God don't want no repenting like I repent. It was steel against flint. The spark in the narrow blue line of his eyes as he said the words, and the bishop understood. But what to do with this man of the mountains, this force of nature in the wild, how guard him from a more pernicious element in the civilised town life than any he would find in his rugged solitudes. And Cassandra, the bishop bowed his head and sat with the tips of his fingers pressed together. The thought of Cassandra weighed heavy upon him. She had given her promise with the devotion of her kind to save. Had truly offered herself a living sacrifice, all hopes for her growth into the gracious womanhood, her inheritance impelled her toward, her sweet ambitions for study, gone to the winds, scattered like the fragrant wild rose petals on her own hillside, doomed by that promise to live as her mother had lived, and like other women of her kin to age before her time, with the bearing of children in the midst of toil too heavy for her, dispirited by privation and the sorrow of relinquished hopes. Oh, well the bishop knew. He dreaded most to see the beautiful light of aspiration die out of her eyes, and her spirit grew sordid in the life to which this untamed savage would inevitably bring her. What a waste. And again he repeated the words. What a waste. The youth looked up, thinking himself addressed, but the bishop saw only the girl. It was as if she rose and stood there, dominant in the sweet power of her girlish self-sacrifice, appealing to him to help save this soul. Somehow at the moment he failed to appreciate the beauty of such giving. Almost it seemed to him a pity frail had thus far succeeded in evading his pursuers. It would have saved her in spite of herself had he been taken. But now the situation was forced upon the bishop, either to give him up which seemed an arbitrary taking into his own hands of power which belonged only to the almighty, or to shield him as best he might, giving heed to the thought that even if in his eyes the value of the girl was immeasurably the greater, yet the youth also was valued. Or why was he here? He lifted his head and saw frail's eyes fixed upon him sadly, almost as if he knew the bishop's thoughts. Yes, here was a soul worthwhile. Plainly there was but one course to pursue, and but one thread left to hold the young man to steadfast purpose. Using that thread he would try. If he could be made to sacrifice for Cassandra some of his physical joy of life, seeking to give more than to appropriate it to himself for his own satisfaction, if he could teach him the value of what she had done, could he rise to such a height and learn self-control? The argument for repentance, having come back to him void, the bishop began again. You tell me Cassandra has given you her promise? What are you going to do about it? Hits twixt her and me, said the youth proudly. No, thundered the bishop. All the man in him roused to beat into this crude triumphant animal some sense of what Cassandra had really done. No, it's betwixt you and the God who made you. You have to answer to God for what you do. He towered above him and bending down looked into frail's eyes until the boy cowered and looked down with lowered head and there was silence. Then the bishop straightened himself and began pacing the room. At last he came to a stand and spoke quietly. You have Cassandra's promise. What are you going to do about it? Frail did not move or speak and the bishop felt baffled. What was going on under that passive mask he dared not think? To talk seemed futile like hammering on a flint wall. But hammer he must and again he tried.  Do you know what that means? Hang in, I reckon. If it were only to hang boy it might be better for Cassandra. Think about it. If I help you and shield you here what are you going to do? What do you care most for in all this world?  He had not to arrile me like he'd done. I care for her. More than for Frail far well? The boy looked vaguely before him. I reckon was all he said. Again the bishop paced the floor and waited. I ain't afraid to work. Ride hard. Good. What kind of work can you do? Frail flushed a dark red and was silent. Yes. I know you can make corn whiskey. But that is the devil's work.  Again silence. At last in a low voice he ventured. I'll do any kind of work you all give me to do. If, if only the officers will leave me be. And I told Cass I'd learn writing. Good. Very good. Can you drive a horse? Yes of course. Frail's eyes shone. I reckon. The bishop grew more hopeful. The holy greed for souls fell upon him. This young man must be guarded and watched. He must be washed and clothed as well as fed. And right here the little wife must be consulted. He went out leaving the youth to himself. And sought his brown-eyed, sweet-faced, little wisp of a woman where she sat writing his most pressing business letters for him. Dearest, may I interrupt you? In a minute, James. In a minute. I'll just address these. He dropped into a deep chair and waited, with troubled eyes regarding her. There she rubbed vigorously on the blotter. These are all done. Every blessed one, James. Now what? In an instant she was curled up, feet and all, like a kitten in his lap. Her small brown head, its wisps of fine straight hair, straying over temples and rounded cheeks, tucked comfortably under his chin. And thus every point was carefully talked over. With many exclamations of anxiety and doubt, and much discreet suggestion from the small advisor, it was at last all settled. Frail was to be properly clothed from missionary boxes sent every year from the North. He should stay with them for a while until a suitable place could be found for him. Above all things he must be kept out of bad company. Oh dear, poor Cassandra, after all her hopes, and she might have done so much for her people, if only. Tears stood in the brown eyes, and even ran over and dropped on the bishop's coat, and had to be carefully wiped off, for, as he feelingly remarked, I can't go about wearing my wife's tears in plain view now, can I? And then Dr. Hoyle's young friend. She must hear his letter. How interesting he must be. Couldn't they have him down? And when the bishop next went up the mountain, might she accompany him? Oh no, the trip was not too rough. It was quite possible for her. She would go to see Cassandra and the old mother. Poor Cassandra! But the self-respecting old stepmother and her daughter did not allow these kind friends to trespass on any missionary supplies. For Uncle Jerry was dispatched down the mountain with a bundle on the back of his saddle, which was quietly left at the bishop's door, and Frail next appeared in a neat suit of home-spun, home-woven and dyed, and home-made clothing. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of The Mountain Girl This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, reading by Lars Rolander. The Mountain Girl by Payne Erskine Chapter 8, in which David Thring makes a discovery. Standing on the great hanging rock before his cabin, Thring imagined himself absolutely solitary in the center of a wild wilderness. Even the fall place where Lib the widow Farwell, although so near, was not visible from this point. But when he began exploring the region about him, now on foot and now on horseback, he discovered it to be really a country of homes. Every mule part of brushing off into what seemed a neat accessible wild led to some cabin, often set in a hollow on a few acres of rich soil, watered by a never-failing spring, where the forest growth had been cut away to make cultivation possible. Sometimes the little log house would be perched like a lonely eagle's nest on a mere shelf-like ledge jutting out from the mountain wall, but always below it or above it, or off at one side, he found the inevitable pocket of rich soil accumulated by the wash of years, where enough corn and cow-piece could be raised for cattle, and cotton and a few sheep to provide material for clothing the family, with a few fowls and pigs to provide their food. Here they lived those isolated people in quiet independence and contented poverty, craving little and often having less, caring nothing for the great world outside their own environment, looking after each other in times of sickness and trouble, keeping alive the traditions of their forefathers, and clinging to the ancient family feuds and friendships from generation to generation. David soon learned that they had among themselves their class distinctions, certain among them holding their heads high in the knowledge of having a self-respecting ancestry, and training their children to reckon themselves no common thrash, however much they did precarious showing the pride that was in them. Many days passed after frail's departure before David learned more of the young man's unhappity. He had gone down to give the old mother some necessary care, and finding her alone remained to talk with her. Pleased with her quaint expressions and virile intellect, he led her on to speak of her youth, and one morning, wary of the solitude and silence, she poured out tales of Cassandra's father, and how, after his death, she came to marry Farwell. She told of her own mother and the hard times that fell upon them during the bitter days of the Civil War. The traditions of her family were dear to her, and she was well pleased to show this young doctor, who had found the key to her warm, yet reserved heart, that she want no common thrash, and her children want like the runner's children. Seems like I'm talking a heap too much, O' Weeons, she said at last. No, no, go on, you say you had no school, how did you learn? You were reading your Bible when I came in. No, there won't no schools in my day. Not nigh enough for me to go to. Now she could read and write too, but after poor Jean the Army, she had to work right hard and had nothing to do with. How he had to chain one side or the other. Some went with the north, and some went with the south. They didn't care much.  But them were cruel times when the bush-walkers come searching round and raiding our homes. They were a bad lot, most of them were deserters from both armies. We once were obliged to hide in the bridge or up the branch. Anywhere we could find a place to creep into. Them were bad times for the women and children left at home. Mao used to save every scrap of paper she could find with printing on it, to learn beyond our letters often. One time came long a right decent captain, and asked Mao could she get he and his men something to eat. He had nigh about a dozen soggers with him. And Mao, she done the best she could, cooked cornbread and chicken and sich, can remember how he sat right on the hearth where you're sitting now and tossed flap-decks for the whole crowd. He works right civil when he left and said he liked to give Mao something, but they add nothing but confederate money, and it won't worth nothing up here. And Mao said would he give her the newspaper he had. She see the end of it standing out of his pocket. And he laughed and give it out quick, and asked her what did she want with it. And she lured she could teach me a heap of reading out of that paper. And he laughed again and said likely for that it were worth more than money. All the school and I had were just that third paper, and that old spelling book you see on the shelf. I can remember how Mao come by that too. Tell me how she came by the spelling book, will you? It were about that time, Mao, he never come home again. I can't remember much about my Mao. Mao used to say a heap of times if she only had a spelling book, like she used to learn outen, that she could learn Wien's right smart. Well, one day one of the neighbors told her that he had seen one at the garage over to other side Lone Pine Creek, now about eight miles, I reckon. And she lured she'd get it. So she sent Wien's over to Taseless Mill. She were that scared of the gorilla she didn't like leaving Wien's home alone. And she walked there and asked could she do something to earn that their book. And all miscarriage she allowed if Mao'd come Monday following on, wash for her, that she mount have it. Them days Wien's and the Taseless were right friendly. They want no fight, twist Wien's and Taseless then. But now I reckon they're spawned to be blood-fed. She spoke very sadly and waited, leaving the tale of the spelling book half told. Why must they be blood-fed now? Why can't you go on in the old way? It's frail done it. He and Ferdinand teasedly. They set up stilling over in dark corner yonder, hit to work a heap of trouble, that there I reckon you unstone have no thing to see where you come from. We have things quite as bad. So they quarreled, did they? Yes, they quarreled, and they fit. No doubt they had been drinking. Yes, I reckon. But just a drunken quarrel between those two ought not to affect all the rest. Couldn't you patch it up among you and keep the boy at home? You must need his help on the place. We need him bad-air, but is no way for it to make up and write a blood-fed. Frail done them mean. He lifted his hand and killed his friend. It was Sunday evening he'd done it. They had been having a singing there at the mill and preacher. He were there, too. And all were kind and peaceable.  Ferdon foot and frail ridden his horse, the one you have now. They used to go that away right in turn about, one horse with them and one horse keepalus. He'd neither still, lest the government men come on them sudden like. Frail he were right cute, he never wore come up with. Piers like they stopped, for they'd gone for disputing about something. Miss Teasley say she heard their voices high and loud, and then she heard the shot right quick, that away and nothing more. And she sent all men Teasley and the preacher out, and the whole houseful foller, and there they found Ferdinand shot dead. And Frail, he and the horse were gone.  But he never got the chance, likely if he had, it would have been him a-hiding now, and Frail did, I reckon so. Thring listened in silence. It made him think of the old tales of the Scottish border. So in plain words the young man was a murderer. With deep pity he recalled a haunted look in Frail's eyes and the sadness that trembled around Cassandra's lips, as she said, I reckon there is no trouble worse than ours. A thought struck him, and he asked. Do you know what they quarreled about? He never let on what soul was the fuss. Likely it told Cass, but she's that still. It's right hard to raise a blood-foid there when Weon's and the Teasley's Owlers were friends. She took care of me when my shellon come, and I took care of her with her. Ferdinand too. He wore like my own, Ferdinhurst him when she had the fever and her milk leave her. Cass wore only three weeks old then, and he wore nigh on a year, but that little and sickly. He liked to her died if I hadn't took him. She paused and wiped away a tear that trickled down the furrow of her thin cheek. If it were left to us women fair to stir him up, I reckon there wouldn't be no fudge, for it's hard on Weon's when we are friendly, and fair like my own boy that away. But perhaps, David spoke musingly, perhaps it was a woman who stirred up the trouble between them. The widow looked a moment with startled glance into his face, then turned her gaze away. I reckon not. There's no woman far or near as I ever earn of frail going with. Still pondering, David rose to go, but quickly resumed his seat and turned her thoughts again to the past. He would not leave her thus sad at heart. Won't you finish telling me about the spelling book? Ah, forget how come it, but Mao didn't leave we chill and to teaslees that day. She went to do the washing. Likely Miss Teasley were sick. Anyway she left us here. She baked cornbread. It were all we had in the house to eat them days, and she forged water for the day and keyword up the fire. Then she locked the door and took the key with her, and to all Weon's did we hear a noise like anybody trying to get in to go up Garrett and make out like there won't nobody to home. There were three of us chillin'. I were the oldest. We were Caswells my family, my little brother Whitson. He were scarcely more than a baby running round pulling things down on his head, where he could reach him. Cotton were Moses much care that reckless. She paused and smiled as she recalled the cares of a childhood, then wandered on in her slow narration. They'd done a heap of things that day to about drive me plump crazy, and all the time we was thinking we heard men talking or horses trumping outside and keep ourselves right busy running up Garrett to hide. Along towards night he'd come on to snow, and then turn to rain, a right cold hard rain, and we were that cold and hungry, and which he cried for a mow, and he'd come dark, and we had it all there were to eat long before. So we had no supper, and the poor little fellers were that cold and shivering there in the dark. I made them climb into bed like they were, and covered them up good, and there I lay trained to make out like a warm mow, getting my arms round both of them to one set. Whits cried himself to sleep, but Cotton he kept saying, he heard men knocking round outside, and at last he fell asleep too. He alas were a naturally scared kind of child. Then I lay there still listening to the rain, beat on the roof, and thinking would Mow ever get back again, and listening to hear her working with a lock. It was a padlock on the outside, and there I must have draped off to sleep that away, for I didn't hear nothing no more until I woke up with a soft murmuring sound in my ears, and there I see'd Mow. The rain had stopped, and it were most day I reckoned, with the morning moon shining in and falling on her, what she knelt by the bed, close night to me.  I knew it were Mow, for I'd see'd her pray before, but I was scared for all that. I lay right still, and held my breath, and heard her thank the Lord for caring for Wiens, whilst she were gone, and farewelling her to get that their buck. I don't guess she knew I see'd her, for she got upright still and soft like not to wake Wiens, and began to light the fire, and make some yarb tea. She wore that wet and cold I could see her hands shake whilst she held the match to the lighted stick. Them days Mow made coffee, out and burned cornbread, and tea out and dried blackberry leaves, and sassafrack's root. She paused and turned her face toward the open door. David thought she had lost somewhat the appearance of age, certainly what with the long rest, and Cassandra's loving care, she had no longer the weary, haggard look that had struck him when he saw her first. Following the direction of her gaze, he went to the shelf, and took down the old spelling-book, and turned the leaves, now limp, and worn. So this was Cassandra's inheritance, part of it, the inward impulse that would urge to toil all day, then walk miles in brain and darkness through a wilderness, and thank the Lord for the privilege to own this book, not for herself, but for the generations to come. David touched it reverently, glad to know so much of her past, and turned to the old mother for more.  Her sharp eyes sparkled as she looked narrowly at him. I have something that I ain't never told anybody living a word of. Not even Dr. Hoyle. Only he wore some different from you. But I'm getting old, and I may as well tell you. Likely with all your learning, you can tell me, is it any good to Cass? She be that sought on all sec. She fumbled at her throat for a moment, and drew from the bosom of her gown a leather shoe-lacing, from which dangled an iron key. Slowly she undid the knot, and handed it toward him. I never allowed nobody on earth to touch that barbox, and the ain't a soul living knows what's in it. I've been guarding them like they wore gold, for they belong to my old man, the first one, Cassandra's father. But I reckon if I die, there won't nobody see any good in them things. If you'll unlock that tharpad lock on that box yonder, you'll find it rocked in a piece of dingham. My pious mother spun and wore that dingham. Old Miss Casswell. They don't many do work like that nowadays. They lived right where we are living now. David unlocked the chest and lifted the heavy lid. It's down in the further corner. That's it, I reckon. Just step to the door, will you, and see is there anybody in eye? He went to the door, but saw no one. Only from the shed came an intermittent ratatot. I don't see anyone, but I hear someone pounding. It's only Hyle making his traps. She sighed, then slowly and tenderly untied the parcel, and placed in his hands two small leather bound books, tied to one by a faded silk cord, which marked the pages, was a thin worn ring of gold. That ring were his mouse, and when we were married I wore it, but when I took farewell for my old man, I never wore it any more, for he load being hit were gold that away. We'd ought to sell it. That time I took the lock of the door and put it on that thar box. It were my grandma's box, and I done wore the key here ever since. Can you tell what they be? It's the quearest kind of print I ever see. He used to make out like he could read it, likely he did for whatever he said he'd done. It seemed to her little short of a miracle that anyone could read it, but David soon learned that her confidence in her first old man was unlimited. What's all's in it? She grew restless while he carefully and silently examined her treasure, the true significance of which she so little knew. Filled with amazement and with a keen pleasure he took the books to the light. The print was fine, even and clear. What's all be thy? She reiterated, reckon they are no good. David smiled. In one way they are all the good in the world, but not for money, you know. Now, I don't guess. Can you read that queer printing? Yes. The letters are Greek, and these books are about a hundred years old. Be they? Then they won't be much good to cast, I reckon. He sought a heap by them, but I warfare they might be heathen. Greek, that they're be heathen, ain't it? David continued speaking more to himself than to her. They were published in London in 1812. They have been read by someone who knew them well. I can see by these marginal notes. What be they? Her curiosity was eager and intent. They are explanations and comments written here on the margin. See? With a fine pen. His grandpa done that there. What be they about anyhow? They are very old poems written long before this country was discovered. And that must have been before the revolution. His grandpa fit in that. There is something more in there. I kept it hid for farewell. He were bound to melt it up for silver bullets. He allowed them bullets were plump, sure to kill. Reckon you can find it? Dare this. Her eyes shown as string drew out another object, also wrapped in gingham. It's a teapot, I guess, but for well he got a hold of it and melted off the spout to make his silver bullets. That time I hid all in the box and put on the bolt and lock, whilst he were away still in. There is one bullet left, but I reckon frail has it. David took it from her hand and turned it about. Surely this is a treasure. Here is a coat of arms, but it is so worn I can't make out the emblem. Was this your husband's also? Is there anything else? That's all. Yes, they were his. I were plump, mad at farewell. I never could get over what he done.  Lightly he meant them bullets for the revenue officers, should they come up with him. It would have been a great pity if he had destroyed this mark. I think I'm not sure, but if it is what I imagine it is from an old family in Wales. I reckon you're right, for they were Welsh. His paws forked way back. He used to say they want no name older than Hison since the Bible. I told him it were time he got a new one, if it were that old. But he said he reckoned a name were like Whiskey. It needed a right smart or age to make it worth anything. Tring laid the antique silver pot on the bed beside the old mother's hand and again took up the small volumes. As he held them, a thought flashed through his mind, yet hardly a thought. It was more of an illumination, like a vista suddenly opened through what had seemed an impenetrable, impalpable wall beyond which lay a joy yet to be, but before unseen. In that instant of time a vision appeared to him of what life might bring, glorified by a tender light as of a red fire, seen through a sweet blue obscuring mist, and making thus a halo about the one figure of the vision outlined against it, clear and fine. Bears like you find something right interesting in that book? Be you reading it? I find a glorious prophecy. Was your first husband born and raised here as you were? Not on this spot, but he was born and raised like wings here in the mountains, over the other side Pishka. I seed him first when I want more than seventeen. He come here for I don't rightly recollect what, only he had been deer hunting and come late evening he draughting. He had lost his dog, and he had a bag of birds, and he asked Mao could she cook them and give him supper, and Mao she took to him right smart. After supper I remember like it were last evening. He took grandpa's old fiddle and tuned it up and sat there and played everything you ever hear. He played like the warbird singing and rain falling and like the wind when it goes wailing round the house in the pine tops, soft and sad, like that away. Grandpa's old fiddle. I used to carry heat for it, but one time farewell got religion, and he took and broke it cause he were feared. Freilmont learned to play and heat would be a temptation of the devil to him. Well, I say that was a crime, you know. Yes, sometimes I'll lie here and say what all did I marry farewell for anyway. Well, every man has his failings, they say, and farewell he sure had hison. May I keep these books a short time? I will be very careful of them. You know that or you would not have shown them to me. You take them as long as you like. It ain't like it used to be. Books is easy to come by these days. Too easy I reckon. Cassandra she brought a whole basket full of them with her. There they be on that chair behind my spinning wheel. Was the basket full of books? So that's why it was so heavy. Might I have a look at them?  She won't care, I reckon. She ain't had a might or time since she had come home to look at them. But David thought better of it. He would not look in her basket and pry among her treasures without her permission. When is she coming back? He asked, awakened to desire further knowledge of the silenced girl's aspirations.  Its old man Irwin is been hurted some way. She went over to seek an unsellic arrow go and help Miss Irwin care for him. She's a fool thing don't know nothing. They sent down for me, but ere I be, so she rode the colt over for Sally. David wrapped and tied the piece of silver as he had found it. As he replaced it in the box, he discovered the pieces of the broken fiddle loosely tied in a sack, precious relics of a joy that was past. Carefully he locked the box and returned the key, but the books he folded in the strip of Jingham and carried away with him. I'll be back to night or in the morning. If she doesn't return, send foil for me. You mustn't be too long alone. Shall I mend the fire? He threw on another long, then lifted her a little and brought her a glass of cool water, and climbed back to his cabin, walking lightly and swiftly.


Hello and welcome to Facebook ads week 14. So we are indeed on week 14. If this is your first week tuning in, then basically every single week I'll show you two proven Facebook ad creatives. So these are Facebook ad creatives which are advertising drop shipping products, have millions of views, thousands of comments, thousands of engagements. Basically Facebook ads which are selling products profitably. The best thing about these creatives as well is they're all current and active right now as you watch this video. So if you're sat watching this video right now looking for a product to get your business off the ground and commit to something, then the two products you're going to see in this video are proven and current winners. So you can see the full story behind all of these products. So essentially you'll have all of the tools and all of the information to get started with them as soon as possible. I will of course be showing you the creative I'll be showing you where to source these products from and I will be showing you the competitors selling these products too. So you'll be able to see exactly what a proven product page, description, layout, imagery, all that good stuff and what that looks like. Even though I will be showing you these proven and successful businesses, I just want to warn I do not condone copy and paste in what you're about to see today. Yes, these are successful businesses selling these products profitably. However, put your own spin on it. Use them as inspiration but rebrand it, rewrite your own product descriptions as tools which will do that for you. Do not just copy these guys word for word and video for video. And so with that being said, thanks for tuning in. If you want two proven winners to pop up on your YouTube dashboard every single week, every single Friday, make sure you subscribe to the channel if you enjoy the video drop it a like and let's just trade into Facebook creative number one. Okay, so first things first, let's take a look at what the product is and what the actual video creative looks like. It does a really good job of showing a real dog owner, a real dog using the product where the product should be used and then at the bottom here it just points out the different benefits. Like I said, these are all proven creatives. So this is what's working right now. However, if it was me, I'd like user generated content. I like to see somebody on screen holding a camera in a selfie format, actually talking through the different products and talking through the different features rather than have this kind of viral e-com ads type style video where it's just lots of different random clips all kind of put together with some cheesy music in the background. However, who am I to argue with what works? If it's not broken, then you don't need to fix it. Okay, so you might be thinking, well, how do I know it's a proven product? How do I know that this product is actually selling? And this is where the proof is in the pudding or the proof is in the actual comments. So let's have a scroll down. We can see 5,000 reactions. So likes, heart reactions, 1,600 comments and 1,200 chairs. However, that engagement doesn't always equals money. What we need to look at is the comment section. Are people actually buying this thing? And it doesn't take long if we scroll down into the comment section, we can see Louise Russell actually posted a picture. I'm gonna turn the sound off.  And we can see 165 reactions.  Before we carry on, I just wanna say a really important note actually, something that has literally been pretty much transformed in my businesses since I've been doing it. In the first sort of four or five years of dropshipping I've always had a heavy focus on having as much social proof on my actual stores, on the product pages as possible. However, what I've found is that the more social proof you actually put into your creative, the more social proof in the actual comment section like this is what makes the real difference because if people have that social proof and people can get sold on the product and want to buy the product there and then on Facebook, then what you have on your actual product page becomes less important because they've got all the information, they've seen that people have bought this and happy with the product. The only thing next they need to see is the price. And as long as they're happy with that and that's the first thing they see on your store, they're gonna hit that add to account button and go straight to your checkout process. So what I've been doing, instead of asking people to come back to my store and leave a review there, I've been sending the link to the Facebook ad creative, the link to the actual post on Facebook and saying, hey, would you mind coming back and dropping a comment and an image of the product there. So we're seeing Louise has bought this product and she loves it. This was just three weeks ago. Claire just ordered her second one one week ago. Kate Trutter says, what size should I need for a Jack Russell? I want to avoid this as much as possible. We'll take a look at the competitors in a second. We wanna make sure that the size guide is clear as crystal and everybody can see it. Wendy Woo says she's just ordered hers. Karen says she's just bought one from their website two weeks ago. Angela's just received hers. This was less than a day ago. More and more people are asking about the size. Basically what we can see is there's plenty of people who have actually bought this product from this actual company and that confirms we've got a winning product, a winning creative and what we're about to see now is a winning product page. So this is the product page in question. We can see it's quite clean. It looks pretty good. We've got a couple of different features and things added. It's a Sol 249, 18 visitors, 20 visitors, a browser-ness that gives off that impression of scarcity. They also have a countdown timer for their sale too. However, the biggest thing, the biggest fall down in my opinion on this product page is there's no size guide. This is gonna be the first kind of area of the page that people see and the first thing they're gonna be thinking is a size guide.  What you need is a third-party app, a little button people can click on so it pops up on the screen. They can see I've got a Jack Russell, this is the size I need and there's no need for them to even scroll down and consume all this further information because they've already seen that people are buying it on Facebook. They've already seen what it does from the Facebook ad creative. The only things left are how expensive is it and what size do I need? Even if we scroll all the way through, let's keep going down and see how far do we get before we actually see a size guide. Okay, so here we go. We've finally hit a size guide. In my opinion, this is way too far down the page. People have seen all this information. They've seen all this benefits from the Facebook ad creative. Like I mentioned earlier, the only two things left for a customer to do once they've watched the video is see how expensive is it? Can I afford it? Am I willing to pay that? And then secondly, what size do I need? As a prize then, we're seeing these guys are selling it for 37 pounds. Let's take a look on AliExpress. To be honest, this is one of the first suppliers I've found. They're pretty competitive in terms of price. If you established a form of relationship or had a consistent amount of orders going through your business each day, you could definitely negotiate a VIP link or you maybe even be able to find an agent which could supply it cheaper for you just to bump up that average order value. But basically you can buy this product for 20 pounds and 49 pence. They're selling it for 37, which leaves about 17 pounds as a margin. Now, to be honest, that's not perfect as a margin. It could be better than that. A couple of things to consider. So these guys are not offering free shipping. So there will be a shipping cost on top of that. And secondly, the dog niche, there's endless products in the dog niche. So when it comes to offering upsells and cross-sells and things like that, it's a really good way of bumping up your average order value and selling the consumer on something else. So all in all, a great product, a very relevant product for this time of year, absolutely worth it being in the UK when you take your dog out for a walk. It's pretty much going to get wet and muddy no matter what month or what week it is. But there's a special emphasis on the winter months like November, December, and January, February, March, even into April times with April showers. So this is going to be a consistent seller at least for the next four months. Before we move on to product number two, I just want to very quickly take 20 seconds to show you my free on-demand training. It's 100% free, won't cost you any money whatsoever. And essentially it's a one to two hour training which will show you how to build and launch your online business, your online drop shipping business in the next 21 days. So that's going from zero, from scratch to have a fully fledged up and running business that's making money in 21 days. Like I said, it is 100% free. It is one to two hours long. So make sure you block out some time and bring a notepad and pen because there's going to be a lot to cover as you can imagine starting a business. But believe me, it will be worth it. For anybody who does watch the training, I will also be giving you a 100% free copy of my 194 profitable product ideas for 2023. So if that's of interest to you and you do want to get started with your drop shipping business, it will be the top link in the video description below. Moving on to product number two, then this one is a no brainer. If you're watching this in the UK, this is one of the probably easiest products to sell right now. Given the time of year it is, not only is it winter, so people naturally need to stay warm once they leave the house. We're in a cost of living crisis. Energy bills are going up. People can't afford to heat their homes to the same temperature as they once could. So people are looking for cheaper ways to stay warm at home. And this product, it goes without saying is a perfect way to do that. Not only that though, the market for leggings is at its strongest for January because the most popular new year's resolution, of course, is to get in shape. So not only are people looking for leggings to buy to go to the gym, they're looking for leggings to stay warm when they're commuting, when they're out and about walking, and they're looking for leggings to stay warm and comfy at home because electricity prices at the moment in the UK are frigging ridiculous. So all in all a perfect proven and in demand product right now. Let's take a look at the engagements then because like I said, we need to confirm people are actually buying this thing. Then we have stone cold evidence that nobody can argue basically. If people are saying they're buying this thing, nobody can argue that. So 20,000 reactions, 19,000 comments, and 14 million views. I mean, a creative doesn't get that level of viewership unless it's definitely selling or at least definitely making that company some money. So let's take a look. We can see that tar in from 11 weeks ago. Yep, they're warm, definitely waterproof. I used them for sledging with the kids last year. Great buy. Wendy says she has two pairs. Jean says she bought two pairs six weeks ago. Fiona says she has these and they're comfy and warm. Nicholas says she hopes they'll be good because she's bought them for a daughter. Nicholas says she has three pairs and the fit is incredible. Danny says he has these and they keep him very warm. Rian says it's the best buy ever five days ago. Manique says she bought two pairs last year and they're fantastic and warm. Amy says she's got these. Glenda says she's bought these. Maureen says they've just arrived today. It's just comment after comment of people saying they've bought this product. There's no two arguments about it. This is a proven product that's selling right now. Let's take a look at the Shopify store selling this product and from my experience, this screams out Chinese website. This is probably a Chinese supplier that's created a website to sell this product. However, fear not. This is an impulse buy product. This is not a product that people try and compare brand for brand and shave off 50p to save some money. This is the sort of products that people see, want and buy there and then so even if you had to double the price, they definitely think you could do that. These guys as we can see are selling them for $13.99 which is really, really cheap. However, they are charging a six pound shipping fee and that's what's basically 20 pounds all in and we'll take a look at some suppliers in a second. What they do do is they actually, what the previous Shopify store didn't do is they put a size guide in the actual variants. So there's no fishing around, looking around for what size do I need. They've gone with the European or I think it's European maybe just English size guide with XLs 12 to 14, to XL 14 to 16, so on and so forth. Moving down, it pretty much just reiterates what's in the creative. So like I mentioned earlier, this information in my opinion is becoming more and more obsolete on a Shopify store now because it's the sort of info that you put in your video ad creative. So as long as you've got a good creative, people have already seen what this GIF is showing. People have seen the high waste design. People have seen what it's lined with. People have seen all the reviews from the comments section. So when somebody comes onto the store, there's two things they need to know about products like this. Number one, what size do I need? And number two, is it worth the price they're selling it for? Let's take a look at a supply I found on Aliexpress then. So this particular one is called the Trend Store. The reason I chose these guys to feature on the video is because they were established in 2019. They've been around for three or four years now. That's rare for an Aliexpress supplier. Typically stores will kind of jump on a trend for say six months and then close down. However, as I say in all of my videos, do your own research, contact CJ, contact Zendrop, contact BS drop shipping, try and find an agent with a rep spool reputation that can ship it to your customer as quickly as possible at a reasonable price. As for these guys then, they're selling them for seven pounds 26. That does include free shipping because it's quite a small and compact and lightweight item. This does indeed come with a 15 day on time guarantee as well. So if we really wanted to try and compete with this store here, we'd be looking at about 12 pound margin, which is quite tight. But like I said, we don't need to compete in drop shipping if we're selling impulse buy products because they're the sort of products people are gonna waste 10 minutes doing a bit of research on. If they're cheap enough, affordable and somebody wants them bad enough, they're just gonna buy them there and then. If that wasn't the case, then 90% of e-commerce websites would be out of business because people would just go straight to Amazon. And on that note, guys, I'm gonna wrap up Facebook ads Friday week 14. I believe you've just stuck with me this far. I really do appreciate it. I hope you've enjoyed the video. I hope I've given you some inspiration to get your business kickstarted, take some action and get it off the ground. If you need some extra help, I mentioned it earlier in the video, make sure you check out my free training. It's 100% free, won't cost you any money whatsoever. It's the top link in the video description below, so make sure you head there and check it out. And if you do watch it, then your reward will be 194 profitable product ideas, just like the ones you've seen in this video in one handy PDF for you to have. Thanks again for watching, guys. Don't forget to comment, like and subscribe, and I'll see you in the next one. Cheers.