“Say, that makes me feel sort of glad, Miss Helen. You see, I’m not such a duffer really. I think an awful lot, and it don’t come hard either. But folks have always told me I’m such a fool, that I’ve kind of got into the way of believing it. Now, when I saw that pine and the valley I felt sort of queer. It struck me then it was sort of mysterious. Just as though the hand of Fate was groping around and trying to grab me.”
He reached out one big hand to illustrate his words, and significantly pawed the air.
Helen’s face wreathed itself in smiles.
“I know,” she declared. “You felt your fate was somehow linked with it all.”
Kate was gently rocking herself, listening to the light-hearted inconsequent talk of these two. Now she checked the movement of the rocker and leaned forward.
Her eyes were smiling, but her manner was half serious.
“It’s not at all strange to me that that old pine inspired you with—superstitious feelings,” she said. “It has the same effect on most folks—right back to the old Indian days. You know, there’s a legend attached to it. I don’t know where it comes from. Maybe it’s really Indian. Maybe it belongs to the time when King Fisher used to live in the old Meeting House, before it was a—saloon. I don’t know.”
Helen suddenly raised herself to a seat upon the table. Her eyes lit, and Big Brother Bill, watching her, reveled in the picture she made. Now he knew her, his first feelings at sight of her on the trail had received ample confirmation. She surely was one of the most delightful creatures he had ever met.
“Oh, Kate, a legend,” cried the girl, as she settled herself on the table. “However did you know about it? You—you never told me.”