And still in silence, we retraced our steps back to the hotel, and I shortly afterward returned to the city. I lost all further knowledge of the two peculiar visitors to my favorite summer resort.
SANDY’S GHOST.
“‘Commerdations fer the night, stranger? Waal, yes; I reckon we can fix a place fer you. Hev a cheer an’ set you down.”
“Thank you. Don’t you find this rather a lonely place—no neighbors, no nothing, that I can see? How came you to settle here, so far removed from other habitations?”
“Waal, perhaps it’s best not ter ask too many questions ter once.”
“Beg your pardon. No offense was intended, I assure you. Simply idle curiosity.”
“Don’t say ’nuther word, stranger, but come in an’ we’ll hev a snack fer supper. Polly, bring on the victu’ls. Yer jes’ in time.”
Polly at once obeyed. She was a typical Western girl—tall, lithe, graceful and limpid-eyed. She was clear-skinned and high-spirited, too, and in this case ignorant through no fault of her own. John Barr’s eyes scanned her intently, and a flush came to her cheeks. For the first time in her life she was unpleasantly conscious of her bare feet. It may have been this that made her stumble and spill some of the contents of an earthen bowl over the guest’s knees as she placed it on the table.
Her eyes flashed and a tear of anger twinkled on the lashes. She stopped, half meaning to apologize, but an oath from her father caused her to set the bowl down heavily and to hurry from the cabin. A moment later Barr saw a flutter of pink calico from behind a pile of rocks. Old Kit Robinson saw it, too.
“Don’t wonder at yer sayin’ ’tain’t right. She’s a sma’t gal, and a good looker, too, as should hev been sent away frum here ter school ter be eddicated. But she won’t leave her no ’count dad. I orter be shot fer cussin’ her. But I ain’t what I use ter be. Settin’ here an’ keepin’ guard makes me narvous.”