Moonshine Still-House Hidden in the Laurel
She flushed, then paled, staring at me round-eyed—frightened, I thought, by this apparition of a stranger whose approach she had not detected. To these people of the far backwoods everyone from outside their mountains is a doubtful character at best.
However, Mistress Kirby quickly recovered her aplomb. Her mouth straightened to a thin slit. She planted herself squarely across my path, now regarding me with contracted lids and a hard glint, till I felt fairly bayoneted by those steel-gray eyes.
“Good-morning. Is Mr. Kirby about?” I inquired.
There was no answer. Instead, the thin slit opened and let out a yell of almost yodel quality, penetrating as a warwhoop—a yell that would carry near half a mile. I wondered what she meant by this; but she did not enlighten me by so much as a single word. It was puzzling, not to say disconcerting; but, charging it to the custom of a country that still was new to me, I found my tongue again, and started to give credentials.
“My name is Kephart. I am staying at the Everett Mine on Sugar Fork——”
Another yell that set the wild echoes flying.
“I am acquainted with your husband; we’ve hunted together. Perhaps he has told you——”
Yell number three, same pitch and vigor as before.