“My! I wish I had got there earlier—what were they fighting about?”
“Why, Polly Sizemore, that pretty girl with black hair who lost her head when—when—I caught hold of Ham.” The shoulder of Pleasant Trouble that was not working up and down over his crutch began to work up and down over something else.
“What's the matter, Pleasant?” asked the girl.
“Nothin'.” But he was grinning when they reached the steps of the Mission, and he turned on Miss Holden a dancing eye.
“Polly nothin'—them two boys was a-fightin' about you!” And he left her aghast and wheeled chuckling away.
Next afternoon the Marquise bade her little brood a tearful good-by and rode with her lover up Happy Valley to go over the mountain, on to the railroad, and back into the world. At the mouth of Wolf Run Pleasant Trouble was waiting to shake hands.
“Tell Polly good-by for me, Pleasant,” said Miss Holden. “She wasn't there.”
“Polly and the soldier boy rid up to the Leetle Jedge o' Happy Valley last night to git married.”
“Oh,” said Miss Holden, and she flushed a little. “And Ham and King weren't there—where do you suppose they are?” Pleasant pointed to a green little hollow high up a ravine.
“They're up thar.”