"By thunder!" frowned Norton, gazing at the few negroes at work in the fields among the scattered stumps and girdled trees. "There's something almighty strange about this whole affair. Well, I'm out of it now, and if they can reach me in the woods—let them! I guess I'll call on the charming Madam Kitty Grigg. Hm! Duval seems to have been ahead of me there, too. I'm afraid that if I lingered in Louisville, Mr. Duval and I would get farther than apologies——"
He laughed a little, feeling that if he came to hand-grips with Duval the result might be dubious, but worth chancing. And so he came to Grigg's cabin, for farm it was not.
There was no mistaking the place; the girl herself was sitting on the steps of the log shack, at work sewing. Behind him, Norton saw the back-ends of the plantations he had passed, whose buildings were perhaps a mile or more distant. Grigg's cabin was placed amid a grove of half-dead maple and walnut—girdled but never cleared. Even as Norton drew rein and dismounted, the girl rising at sight of him, a sudden thought came into his mind: Duval had said that he was in liquor the day before. Now Norton had seen enough drunken men to know that Duval lied in that statement.
Dismissing this thought, however, he advanced to the shack with a smile. He had no cap and had neglected to buy one in town, and his brown hair and bronzed face were very good to look upon in the warm afternoon sunlight.
"This is Madam Kitty Grigg?" he smiled, bowing, "I met your father and Mr. Duval upon the road, and finding that I had to pass here, determined to crave the courtesy of a drink of water."
She looked at him steadily for a moment, one hand at her breast. Once again Norton noted the clear beauty of her grey eyes and gold-red hair, the character and fresh womanliness of her whole face.
"Sir—you met—my father and Mr. Duval?" she said slowly. Norton comprehended the alarm in her eyes, and laughed again.
"Aye, that I did, Kitty!" he cried gaily. "And your Mr. Duval did me the honour of an apology for what happened on the Beargrass Creek Road yesterday. But pardon—my name is John Norton, at your service now and always."
She looked into his eyes for a moment longer, then turned and walked around the corner of the house, beckoning. Norton followed, to find a spring trickling up beneath a crab-apple tree. Gravely, she dipped out a gourd of water, held it to him, and he drank.
"Thanks, Kitty!" he sighed. "You have nigh saved my life this day——"