CHAPTER XII.
THE EMBARRASSMENTS OF THE DUKE OF BALLYWINKLE.
Mr. Frank Collins, of the Atlanta Palladium, trod the ties beyond Kildare with a light heart, gaily swinging a suit-case. He had walked far, but a narrow-brim straw hat, perched on the back of his head, and the cheery lilt of the waltz he whistled, spoke for a jaunty spirit. As his eye ranged the landscape he marked a faint cloud of smoke rising beyond a lonely strip of wood; and coming to a dilapidated piece of track that led vaguely away into the heart of the forest, he again noted the tiny smoke-cloud. On such a day the half-gods go and the gods arrive; and the world that afternoon knew no cheerfuller spirit than the Palladium’s agile young commissioner. Mr. Collins was not only in capital health and spirits, but he rejoiced in that delicious titillation of expectancy which is the chief compensation of the journalist’s life. His mission was secret, and this in itself gave flavour to his errand; and, moreover, it promised adventures of a kind that were greatly to his liking.
As the woodland closed in about him and the curving spur carried him farther from the main right of way, he ceased whistling, and his steps became more guarded. Suddenly a man rose from the bushes and levelled a long arm at him detainingly.
“Stop, young man, stop where you are!”
“Hello!” called Collins, pausing. “Well, I’m jiggered if it ain’t old Cookie. I say, old man, is the untaxed juice flowing in the forest primeval or what brings you here?”
Cooke grinned as he recalled the reporter, whom he remembered as a particularly irrepressible specimen of his genus whom he had met while pursuing moonshiners in Georgia. The two shook hands amiably midway of the two streaks of rust.
“Young man, I think I told you once before that your legs were altogether too active. I want you to light right out of here—skip!”
“Not for a million dollars. Our meeting is highly opportune, Cookie. It’s not for me to fly in the face of Providence. I’m going to see what’s doing down here.”
“All right,” replied Cooke. “Take it all in and enjoy yourself; but you’re my prisoner.”
“Oh, that will be all right! So long as I’m with you I can’t lose out.”