The Shepherd of the Hills

by Harold Bell Wright

Sammy flushed at this, and answered with some warmth, “There is no reason in the world why you should refuse to meet an old friend; but you may do as you please, of course. Only I am going to the mill.” So saying, she started down the valley, and as there was really nothing else for him to do, the man followed.

As they approached the mill, Sammy called for Young Matt, who immediately left his work, and came to them. The big fellow wore no coat, and his great arms were bare, while his old shirt, patched and faded and patched again, was soiled by engine grease and perspiration. His trousers, too, held in place by suspenders repaired with belt lacing and fastened with a nail, were covered with sawdust and dirt. His hands and arms and even his face were treated liberally with the same mixture that stained his clothing; and the shaggy red brown hair, uncovered, was sadly tumbled. In his hand he held a wrench. The morrow was grinding day, and he had been making some repairs about the engine.

Altogether, as the backwoodsman came forward, he presented a marked contrast to the freshly clad, well groomed gentleman from the city. And to the woman, the contrast was not without advantages to the man in the good clothes. The thought flashed through her mind that the men who would work for Ollie in the shops would look like this. It was the same old advantage; the advantage that the captain has over the private; the advantage of rank, regardless of worth.

Sammy greeted Young Matt warmly. “I just told Ollie that it was too bad he had not seen you. You were away the night we called at your house, you know; and he is going home to-morrow.”

The giant looked from one to the other. Evidently Sammy had not heard of that meeting at the Lookout, and Stewart’s face grew red as he saw what was in the big fellow’s mind. “I’m mighty glad to see you again,” he said lamely. “I told Sammy that I had seen you, but she has forgotten.”

“Oh, no, I haven’t,” replied the girl. “You said that you saw him in the field as you passed the first day you came, but that you were in such a hurry you didn’t stop.”

At this Ollie forced a loud laugh, and remarked that he was in something of a hurry that day. He hoped that in the girl’s confusion the point might be overlooked.

But the mountaineer was not to be sidetracked so easily. Ollie’s poor attempt only showed more clearly that he had purposely refrained from telling Sammy of the might when Young Matt had interfered to save his life. To the simple straight-forward lad of the woods, such a course revealed a spirit most contemptible. Raising his soiled hands and looking straight at Ollie, he said, deliberately, “I’m sorry, seein’ as this is the first time we’ve met, that I can’t shake hands with you. This here’s clean dirt, though.”

Sammy was puzzled. Ollie’s objection to their calling at the mill, his evident embarrassment at the meeting, and something in Young Matt’s voice that hinted at a double meaning in his simple words, all told her that there was something beneath the surface which she did not understand.

After his one remark to her escort, the woodsman turned to the girl, and, in spite of Sammy’s persistent attempts to bring the now sullen Ollie into the conversation, ignored the man completely. When they had talked for a few moments, Young Matt said, “I reckon you’ll have to excuse me a minute, Sammy; I left the engine in such a hurry when you called that I’ll have to look at it again. It won’t take more’n a minute.”