The days that followed were very happy ones for the two young people—and for the two old people for that matter. Teague enjoyed the situation immensely. He would watch the young lovers from afar, and then go off by himself and laugh heartily at his own conceits. He was very proud that Sis was going to marry Somebody—a very broad term, as the old mountaineer employed it. At night when they all sat around the fire (spring on Hog Mountain bore no resemblance to summer) Teague gave eager attention to Woodward's stories, and laughed delightedly at his silliest jokes.
If Teague was delighted with Woodward, he was astounded at Sis. She was no longer the girl that her surroundings seemed to call for. She was a woman, and a very delightful one. From the old scholar, whom fate or circumstance had sent to preside over the Gullettsville Academy, she had caught something of the flavour and grace of cultivation—a gentle dignity, leaning always to artlessness, and a quick appreciation, which was in itself a rare accomplishment.
The day for the wedding was set, and Woodward went his way to Atlanta. He had urged that the ceremony be a very quiet one, but Teague had different views, and he beat down all opposition.
"Why, good Lord, Cap'." he exclaimed, "what 'ud the boys say?—Poteet's gal married an' no stools [Footnote: Invitations] give out! No, siree! Not much. We hain't that stripe up here, Cap. We hain't got no quality ways, but we allers puts on the pot when comp'ny comes. Me an' Sis an' Puss hain't had many weddin's 'mongst us, an' we're thes a-gwine to try an' put the bes' foot foremos'. Oh no, Cap! You fetch your frien's an' we'll fetch our'n, an' ef the house hain't roomy enough, bless you, the woods is."
When Hog Mountain heard the news, which it did by special messenger, sent from house to house with little pink missives written by Sis, it was as proud as Teague himself. Fat Mrs. Hightower laid aside her spectacles when the invitation was translated to her, and remarked—
"They hain't nobody on the face er the yeth good enough fer Sis, but that air feller's got the looks an' the spunk. I'll set in this very day an' hour, an' I'll bake Sis a cake that'll make the'r eyes water." And so it went. Everybody on Hog Mountain had some small contributions to make.
The wedding, however, was not as boisterous as the boys proposed to make it. They had their frolic, to be sure, as Sid Parmalee or Tip Watson will tell you, but an incident occurred which took the edge off their enjoyment, and gave them the cue of soberness.
Two of Woodward's friends—young men from Atlanta—bore him company to Hog Mountain. At Gullettsville they fell in with Uncle Jake Norris, at all times a jovial and companionable figure.
"Roundabout man, roundabout way," remarked Uncle Jake, by way of explaining his presence in Gullettsville. "My house is away an' beyan' frum Poteet's, but I says to myself, s' I, in obejunce to the naked demands of the law I'll go this day an' git me a jug er licker that's bin stomped by the Govunment, an' hide it an' my wickedness, ez you may say, in league's hoss-stable. Yes, frien's, them wuz the words. 'Let the licker be stomped by the Govunment for the sakes of the young chap,' s' I, 'an' I'll hide the jug along er my wickedness in Teague's hoss-stable.' So then, frien's, yess be a sojourneyin', an' ef you feel the needance er somethin' quick an' strong for to brace you for endurance, make your way to the lot, an' feel behin' the stable- door—an' watch out for the kickin' mule! I give you my intentionals cle'r an' clean. What does St. Paul say?—'Ef you can't do good by slippance, do it by stealth.'"
They journeyed along as rapidly as the nature of the mountain road would permit, but before they reached Poteet's the shadows of twilight began to deepen. The road, like most mountain roads, wound itself painfully about. At one point they were within a short half-mile of Poteet's, but a towering wall of rock barred their approach. The road, accommodating itself to circumstances, allowed the towering wall to drive it three miles out of the way. Uncle Jake Norris, turning readily to reminiscences, connected the precipitous shelf with many of the mysterious disappearances that had at various times occurred in army and revenue circles.