“I’ve passed the word, Rube,” he said, without any preamble. “It’s gone the round by this time. I thought I’d run over and consult you about the womenfolk. I’m new to this work. You are an old bird. I thought of sending the missis into Beacon.”
Rube paused in his work and surveyed the horizon, while, in his slow way, he wiped the perspiration from his weather-furrowed face.
“Howdy, Charlie,” he said, without displaying the least concern. “Wal, I don’t know. Y’ see this thing’s li’ble to fizzle some. We’ve had ’em before. 159 Guess my missis an’ the gal’ll stay right here by us. I ’low I feel they’re safer wi’ us. Mebbe it’s jest a notion. If things gits hummin’ I’d say come right along over an’ share in wi’ us. Y’ see if it’s a case of git, we’d likely do better in a party. Seth’s away jest now.”
The old man’s quiet assurance was pleasant to the less experienced farmer. There was soundness in his plans too. Charlie nodded.
“That’s good of you. Of course, we’ve got the warning, but we don’t know how far things are moving. Do you?”
“Wal, no. But I don’t think ther’s anything to worry over fer a week or two.”
“I thought there couldn’t be, because I saw your Rosebud riding down toward the river as I came along. And yet——”
But Rube broke in upon him vehemently.
“Goin’ to the river?” he cried. Then his usual slow movements suddenly became electrical. He strode away to the barn, and left Charlie to follow.
“What’s up?” the latter asked, as he paused in the doorway.