“Ye ain’t been thar ever sence!” exclaimed Jerry.
“Yes,” said Mink demurely. “I bided ter supper along of ’em,—the old folks bein’ powerful perlite an’ gin me an invite.”
Jerry poked him in the ribs. “Ye air a comical cuss! Ye hev got all the gals in the mountings crazy ’bout’n ye.”
Mink laughed lightly, and stayed the fleet jug, which was agile considering its bulk, and once more drank deeply. If he had needed zest for his draught, he might have found it in the expression of Pete Rood’s face. He had already revenged himself, but he must needs push the matter further. He smiled with reminiscent relish, as he leaned against the tree.
“Elviry axed mighty p’inted ef I war a-goin’ right straight up ter the herders’ cabin ter-night, an’ I tole her ez I hed a job on hand with a man named Tobias Winkeye ez I hed ter look arter fust. But she suspicioned suthin’, ’count o’ the name, I reckon, though she never drempt ’twar jes’ whiskey. She ’lowed she hed never hearn o’ nobody named sech. An’ I tole her she hed: her dad used ter like old Winkeye mightily, though she didn’t know him ez well ez some. She ’lowed I war a-goin’ off a-courtin’ some other gal. It war toler’ble hard ter pacify her,” with a covert glance at Rood. “I hed ter talk sixteen ter the dozen.”
“Waal, we hed better look out how our tongues wag so slack with that thar name,” said Price. “I lef’ old man Griff settin’ outside the mill door a-waitin’ fur old Winkeye ter ride by,—bein’ ez I hed gin the word he lives in Eskaqua Cove,—’kase he wanted ter warn him not ter let no job o’ work go ter Mink Lorey. He ’lowed he war goin’ ter gin Mink a bad name.”
Mink’s blood, fired by the liquor, burned at fever heat. His roving eyes were distended and unnaturally bright as the moonlight flashed into them. His cheek was deeply flushed. Despite the rare chill air of the heights, he was hot; often he took off his hat to let the wind play in his long tangled hair that hung down to his shoulders, and lay in heavy moist rings on his forehead. Every fibre was strained to the keenest tension of excitement. He was equally susceptible to any current of emotion, to anger or mirth. He broke out indignantly:—
“Old man Griff hed better quit tryin’ ter spite me. I’ll fix him fur it. I’m goin’ by thar this very night an’ lift the mill gate an’ set the wheel a-runnin’. It’ll be ez good ez a coon-fight ter see him kem out’n his house an’ cuss!”
He burst into sudden laughter.
“Oh, ah! Oh, ah!” he sang,—