Sam Marvin not ungenially permitted his family thus to share in telling his story. He resumed with unabated ardor:—
“An’ I jumped through the door so quick that the spy jes’ did see me, an’ war steppin’ out ter run when I cotch him by the collar. I don’t reckon thar ever war a better beatin’ ’n I gin him. I hed drapped my knife a-runnin’, an’ I hed no dependence ’ceptin’ my fists. His face war so bloody I didn’t know him a-fust, when I dragged him in the house, with his head under my arm. An’ when I seen him I knowed he never kem of hisself, but somebody had sent him. An’ I say, ‘What did ye kem hyar fur?’ An’ he say, ‘Lethe Sayles.’ An’ I say, ‘Who sent ye?’ An’ he say, ‘Lethe Sayles.’”
“Now, Lethe, see what a liar ye hev been fund out ter be!” said the woman, scornfully. “Lord knows I never ’lowed ye would kem ter sech. I knowed ye whenst ye war a baby. A fatter one I never see. Nobody would hev b’lieved ye’d grow up sour, an’ preachified, an’ faultin’ yer elders, an’ bide a single woman, ez ef nobody would make ch’ice o’ ye.”
Alethea looked vaguely from one to the other. Denial seemed futile. She asked mechanically, rather than from any definite motive, “Did ye hear o’ enny revenuers arter that?”
“Didn’t wait ter,” said Marvin. “We hed hearn enough, knowin’ ez ye hed tole, an’ the word hed got round the kentry, so ez the spy hed been sent up ter make sure o’ the place. We-uns war too busy a-movin’ the still an’ a-hustlin’ off. Ef thar hed been time enough fur ennything, I reckon some o’ them boys would hev put a bullet through that thar sandy head o’ yourn. But the raiders never kem up with we-uns, nor got our still an’ liquor,—we-uns war miles an’ miles away from hyar the night arter Tad kem a-spyin’.”
Alethea stood staring, speechless. “Tad!” she gasped at last. “Tad!”
They all stopped and looked at her through the wreathing smoke, as if they hardly understood her.
“Lethe, ye air too pretensified ter be healthy!” Mrs. Marvin exclaimed at last.
“O’ course ye knowed, bein’ ez ye tole him,” said the moonshiner. He did not resume his work, but stood gazing at her. They were all at a loss, amazed at her perturbation.
Her breath came fast; her lips were parted. One lifted hand clung to the heavily enswathed ear of corn upon the tall, sere stalk; the other clutched the kerchief about her throat, as if she were suffocating. Her face was pale; her eyes were distended.