“Are you sure you want to?” asked Talitha, her tired face brightening.
“Of course; the rest can trot along just the same.”
“Dear me,” grumbled Lalla as they proceeded without Gincy, “I’d like to get hold of that man. Do you know anything about the family, Miss Howard?”
“Not much, only he’s fond of moonshine. He sold the home about three weeks ago—told her he was getting ready to come to Bentville, where there was a good school for the children. When she found that he had really gone, she thought he might be here and followed him.” Miss Howard walked on with her head held high; she did not want the girls to read in her face the fulness of disgust which she felt for a man of that type. There were others like him whose sons and daughters were working their way through school, trying to redeem the family name and become worthy citizens.
“It’s a shame!” said Mallie. “They ought to catch him and make him work good and hard—beat him if he didn’t—and give all his wages to his folks. I’d teach him to run away from those pretty children, and—”
“There isn’t a chair in the house,” interrupted Nancy Jane, “and I didn’t see a dish. That poor woman might just as well chase a Bushy tail; she’ll never see him again—not until the children grow up, then he’ll come back and live on them.”
“I should be glad to get rid of him,” said Urilla conclusively. “I’ve seen men like that before.”
There was silence for a moment, and the group became more widely scattered. Lalla forged straight ahead until she was several rods in advance. She scanned the great slate boulders on either side and listened. There were voices, familiar ones, then all was quiet. Everywhere the foothills hemmed them in. Suddenly a rock crashed in front of her. Looking up she saw Abner’s shock of light hair as, flat on his stomach, he peered over the edge of the cliff. The head disappeared and an improvised mask took its place.
“Halt!” commanded a muffled voice which closely resembled Martin’s. Lalla threw up her hands in mock fright. “Come around behind that pine tree, we’re laying for some of our crowd. There’s something in the wind to-day, for Raphael Sloan and Joe Bradshaw sneaked off without letting us know—dropped out all of a sudden. Keep your eye peeled for them, won’t you? Likely they’re up at the springs.”
“Don’t let the rest know we’re here,” warned Abner, peering over Martin’s shoulder, “it might spoil the fun.”