The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains. Mary Noailles Murfree
surmounted by a multitude of perplexed wrinkles, his long, dismayed jaw, his thin, slightly parted lips, and the deep grooves on either side of his nose, were not susceptible of many gradations of meaning. His shifting eyes, cast now at the stark trees, now at the splendid disk of the rising moon, betokened but little anxiety for the Principle of Evil aloose in the Big Smoky. 'Fust—lemme see—thar war Eph Lowry, ez got inter a quar'l with his wife's half-brother's cousin, an' a-tusslin' 'roun' they cut one another right smart, an' some say ez Eph'll never hev his eyesight right good no more. Then thar war Baker Teal, what the folks in Eskaqua Cove 'low let down the bars o' the milk-sick pen, one day las' fall, an' druv Jacob White's red cow in; an' his folks never knowed she hed grazed thar till they hed milked an' churned fur butter, when she lay down an' died o' the milk-sick. Ef they hed drunk her milk same ez common, 'twould hev sickened 'em, sure, 'an mebbe killed 'em. An' they've been quar'lin' 'bout'n it ever sence. Satan's a-stirrin'—Satan's a-stirrin' 'roun' the Big Smoky.'
'Waal, I hearn ez some o' them folks in Eskaqua Cove 'low ez the red cow jes' hooked down the bars, bein' a turrible hooker,' spoke up the man on the stump unexpectedly.
'Waal, White an' his folks won't hear ter no sech word ez that,' said the blacksmith; 'an' arter jowin' an' jowin' back an' fo'th they went t'other day an' informed on Teal 'fore the jestice, an' the Squair fined him twenty-five dollars, 'cordin' ter the law o' Tennessee fur them ez m'liciously lets down the bars o' the milk-sick pen. An' Baker Teal hed ter pay, an' the county treasury an' the informers divided the money 'twixt 'em.'
'What did I tell you-uns? Satan's a-stirrin'—Satan's a-stirrin' 'roun' the Big Smoky,' said the storekeeper, with a certain morbid pride in the Enemy's activity.
'The constable o' this hyar deestric',' recommenced Gid Fletcher, who seemed as well informed as Nathan Hoodendin, 'he advised 'em ter lay it afore the jestice; he war mighty peart 'bout'n that thar job. They 'low ter me ez he hev tuk up a crazy fit ez he kin beat Micajah Green fur sher'ff, an' he's a-skeetin' arter law-breakers same ez a rooster arter a Juny-bug. He 'lows it'll show the kentry what a peart sher'ff he'd make.'
'Shucks!' said the man on the stump. 'I'll vote fur 'Cajah Green fur sher'ff agin the old boy; he hev got a nose fur game.'
'He hain't nosed you-uns out yit, hev he, Rick?' said the blacksmith, with feigned heartiness and a covert sneer.
'Ho! ho! ho!' laughed Nathan Hoodendin. 'What war I a-tellin' you-uns? Satan's a-stirrin'—Satan's surely a-stirrin' on the Big Smoky.'
Rick sat silent in the moonlight, smoking his pipe, his brown wool hat far back, the light full on his yellow head. His face had grown a trifle less square, and his features were more distinctly defined than of yore; he did not look ill, but care had drawn a sharp line here and there.
'One sher'ff's same ter you-uns ez another, ain't he, Rick?' said the man on the stump. 'Any of 'em 'll do ter run from.'
'They tell it ter me,' said the storekeeper, with so sudden a vivacity that it seemed it must crack his graven wrinkles, 'ez the whole Cayce gang air a-goin' ter vote agin 'Cajah Green, 'count o' the way he jawed at old Mis' Cayce an' D'rindy, the day he run you-uns off from thar, Rick.'
'I ain't hearn tell o' that yit,' drawled Rick desolately, 'bein' hid out.'
'Waal, he jawed at D'rindy, an' from what I hev hearn D'rindy jawed back; an' I dunno ez that's s'prisin'—the gal-folks ginerally do. Leastwise, I know ez he sent word arterward ter D'rindy by his dep'ty—ez war a-scoutin' 'roun' hyar, arter you-uns, I reckon, Rick—ez he would be up some day soon ter 'lectioneer, an' he war a-goin' ter stop ter thar house an' ax her pardin'. An' she sent him word, fur God's sake ter bide away from thar.'
A long pause ensued; the stars were faint and few; the iterative note of the katydid vibrated monotonously in the dark woods; dew was falling; the wind stirred.
'What ailed D'rindy ter say that word?' asked Rick, mystified.
'Waal, I dunno,' said Hoodendin indifferently. 'I hev never addled my brains tryin' ter make out what a woman means. Though,' he qualified, 'I did ax the dep'ty an' Amos Jeemes from down yander in Eskaqua Cove—the dep'ty hed purtended ter hev summonsed him ez a posse, an' they war jes' rollickin' 'roun' the kentry like two chickens with thar heads off—I axed 'em what D'rindy meant; an' they 'lowed they didn't know, nor war they takin' it ter heart. They 'lowed ez she never axed them ter bide away from thar fur God's sake. An' then they snickered an' laffed, like single men do. An' I up an' tole 'em ez the Book sot it down ez the laffter o' fools is like the cracklin' o' bresh under a pot.'
Rick Tyler was eager, his eyes kindling, his breath quick. He looked with uncharacteristic alertness at the inexpressive face of the leisurely narrator.
'They capered like a dunno-what-all on the Big Smoky, them two,—the off'cer o' the law an' his posse! Thar goin's on war jes' scandalous: they played kyerds, an' they consorted with the moonshiners over yander,' nodding his head at the wilderness, 'an' got ez drunk ez two fraish biled owels: an' they sung an' they hollered. An' they went ter the meetin'-house over yander whilst they war in liquor, an' the preacher riz up an' put 'em out. He's toler'ble tough, that thar Pa'son Kelsey, an' kin hold right smart show in a fight. An' the dep'ty, he straightened hisself, an' 'lowed he war a off'cer o' the law. An' Pa'son Kelsey, he 'lowed he war a off'cer o' the law, an' he 'lowed ez his law war higher 'n the law o' Tennessee. An' with that he barred up the door. They hed a cornsider'ble disturbamint at the meetin'-house yander at the Notch, an' the saints war tried in thar temper.'
'The dep'ty 'lows ez Pa'son Kelsey air crazy in his mind,' said the man on the stump. 'The dep'ty said the pa'son talked ter him like ez ef he war a onregenerate critter. An' he 'lowed he war baptized in Scolacutta River two year ago an' better. The dep'ty say these hyar mounting preachers hain't got no doctrine like the valley folks. He called Pa'son Kelsey a ignorant cuss!'
'Laws-a-massy!' exclaimed Nathan Hoodendin, scandalized.
'He say it fairly makes him laff ter hear Pa'son Kelsey performing like he hed a cut-throat mortgage on a seat 'mongst the angels. He say ez he thinks Pa'son Kelsey speaks with more insurance 'n enny man he ever see.'
'I reckon, ef the truth war knowed, the dep'ty ain't got no religion, an' never war in Scolacutta River, 'thout it war a-fishing',' said the blacksmith, meditatively.
The fugitive from justice, pining for the simple society of his world, listened like a starveling thing to these meagre details, so replete with interest to him, so full of life and spirit. The next moment he was sorry he had come.
'That thar Amos Jeemes air a comical critter,' said the man on the stump, after an interval of cogitation, and with a gurgling reminiscent laugh. 'He war a-cuttin' up his shines over thar ter Cayce's, t'other day; he warn't drunk then, ye onderstan'——'
'I onderstan'. He war jes' fool, like he always air,' said the blacksmith.
'Edzactly,' assented the man on the stump. 'An' he fairly made D'rindy laff ter see what the critter would say nex'. An' D'rindy always seemed ter me a powerful solemn sorter gal. Waal, she laffed at Amos. An' whilst him an' the dep'ty war a-goin' down the mounting—I went down ter Jeemes's mill ter leave some grist over night ter be ground—the dep'ty, he run Amos 'bout'n it. The dep'ty he 'lowed ez no gal hed ever made so much fun o' him, an' Amos 'lowed ez D'rindy didn't make game o' him. She thunk too much o' him fur that. An' that bold-faced dep'ty, he 'lowed he thought 'twar him ez hed fund favior. An' Amos—we war mighty nigh down in Eskaqua Cove then—he turned suddint an' p'inted up the mounting. "What kin you-uns view on the mounting?" he axed. The dep'ty, he stopped an' stared; an' thar mighty nigh ez high ez the lower e-end o' the bald, war a light. "That shines fur me ter see whilst I'm 'bleeged ter be in Eskaqua Cove," sez Amos. An' the dep'ty said, "I think it air a star!" An' Amos sez, sez he, "Bless yer bones, I think so, too—sometimes!" But 'twarn't no star. 'Twar jes' a light in the roof-room window o' Cayce's house; an' ye could see it, sure enough, plumb to the mill in Eskaqua Cove!'
Rick rose to go. Why should he linger, and wring his heart, and garner bitterness to feed upon in his lonely days? Why should he look upon the