“Where?” instantly countered Douglas. “You’ve all been watching this bridge every minute. How could anybody come out without your seeing him—or her? Now, you two had better go and get some glasses. Then maybe you can tell the difference between a rock under the bridge and a woman. If you really saw a woman, why didn’t you bet a nickel against my quarter? Because you didn’t see any. Isn’t that right, youngsters?”
His confident argument, poor as it was, clinched the matter in the simple minds of those who had not seen the woman there. They jeered at the spies, who were sullenly silent just when they should have fought back.
“All right, go on,” Douglas waved them away. “Only remember, if I hear any more about this I’ll know who told it around, and—you may be sorry.” This time he gave the sulky pair a hard look. “Now run along. I want to finish my smoke without being yelled at.”
They went, still poking fun at their discredited companions. For awhile Douglas leaned there, knowing he was watched, and that while he was the focus of attention the woman could move farther away unobserved. Then he knocked out his pipe and sauntered away, directing his steps up the open road toward the schoolhouse.
“H’m! That was a sweet mess, wasn’t it?” he reflected. “Maybe that pair of little scandal-mongers will keep their mouths shut, but I doubt it. However, the rest of them didn’t see her, and she’s out of it with a whole skin—if she has wit enough to get in the first word when Snake shows up. Mister Ha’nt, up to the present you’ve been a pest, but now you’re a friend in need; you got me out of an embarrassing corner quite gracefully. Consider yourself thanked.”
Chuckling, he swung smoothly along between the walls of verdure bordering the road, soon reaching a sharp turn where the road angled off to the westward. There stood the little dun schoolhouse, now temporarily deserted. Along both sides of the steep roadway beyond stood small houses quite close together. At the nearest of these was a workshop, and before it toiled an active little man surrounded by new barrels.
Somewhat surprised by the sight of industry at this lazy noon-hour, Douglas slowed his steps as he approached. The man was obviously a cooper; and around one stand of staves he was deftly looping a withe hoop and locking it tight by notches in the withe. As Douglas halted he rapidly tapped the hoop down into position, gave the barrel a roll, and stopped, foxily watching the stranger.
“Howdy, stranger,” he gurgled, shifting a lumpy quid in one cheek.
“Howdy. You look busy.”
“Allus busy to this time o’ year—folks needs barrels for the apples—keeps me a-hustlin’, yessir. But lawsy, what’s the use o’ livin’ if ye don’t keep a-movin’, says I. Might’s well be a stump or a rock, yessir. Some folks’d ruther set and spit tobacker to a rat-hole, but not me. I’d ruther wear out than rust out—I can lay quiet a long time when I’m dead. Ain’t that so?”