“I never was so scairt in my life,” Cliantha asseverated. Her china-blue eyes had not yet resumed their normal size or contour, and the assertion was easily believed.
“Nor me neither,” agreed Pendrilla. “I says to him, says I, ‘Now you, Gid Rust, do you ’low we’re crazy? We’re a-lookin’ for old Boss and Spot, an’ we ain’t a-goin’ up yon nary step.’ An’ he says to us, says he, ‘Gals, you never mind about no cows,’ he says. ‘Hit’ll shore be the worse for Andy and Jeff Turrentine ef you don’t git yo’selves up thar an’ git up thar quick.’ An’ with that he gives us his knife out of his pocket, ’caze we didn’t have none, and we run the whole blessed way, and cut the boys a-loose.”
“I was that mad when I seen ’em tied up thataway,” chimed in Cliantha, “that I wouldn’t a ’cared the rappin’ o’ my finger ef old Blatch Turrentine hisself had been thar. I’d ’a’ stood right up to him an’ told him what I thort o’ him an’ his works.” There are conditions, it is said, in which even the timid hare becomes militant, and doves will peck at the intruder.
“Well, I reckon I got to get you folks out of here now for sartain,” said Jephthah as she made an end. “Nancy, honey, is the yarbs you wanted for Creed in with them you’re a-goin’ to use on me?”
The little old woman felt of Creed’s fingers, she laid a capable hand upon his brow. Then she flashed one of her quick, youthful smiles at her husband.
“You named it to me about Jude and Creed being at the outs,” she said frankly; “but I see they’ve made up their troubles. The boy don’t need no medicine.”
Jephthah stared at his transformed patient, and admitted that it was so.
“Well he does need some peace and quiet,” the head of the house maintained as he ushered his clan into the adjoining room.
“Uncle Jephthah,” called Creed’s quiet voice, with the ring of the old enthusiasm in it, as his host was leaving the room. “Do you remember telling me that the trouble with my work on the mountain was, I was one man alone? Do you remember saying that if I was a member of a big family—a great big tribe—that I’d get along all right and accomplish what I set out for?”
“I say sech a lot of foolishness, son, I cain’t ricollect it all. Likely I did say that. Hit mought have some truth in it.”