The man dropped the rifle into his arm without taking his eyes from Chauvenet. He said succinctly, but still with his drawl:
“You air a liar, seh!”
Chauvenet took a step forward, looked again into the rifle barrel, and stopped short. Fanny, bored by the prolonged interview, bent her neck and nibbled at a weed.
“This gentleman has been in America only a few weeks; you are certainly mistaken, friend,” said Shirley boldly. Then the color flashed into her face, as an explanation of the mountaineer’s interest in a stranger riding the hills occurred to her.
“You air a liar, seh!”
“My friend,” she said, “I am Miss Claiborne. You may know my father’s house down in the valley. We have been coming here as far back as I can remember.”
The mountaineer listened to her gravely, and at her last words he unconsciously nodded his head. Shirley, seeing that he was interested, seized her advantage.
“I have no reason for misleading you. This gentleman is not a revenue man. He probably never heard of a—still, do you call it?—in his life—” and she smiled upon him sweetly. “But if you will let him go I promise to satisfy you entirely in the matter.”
Chauvenet started to speak, but Shirley arrested him with a gesture, and spoke again to the mountaineer in her most engaging tone: