Читать книгу The Long Rifle - Stewart Edward White - Страница 13

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One dwelling house in the village was, however, exempt from this premature arousement. Protected by the soft rushing silence of running water no noise could reach it to trouble its repose. The mill race took all the world of sound for its own and translated it into a lulling and grateful peace. Those within its insulation slept tranquilly, undisturbed.

Nevertheless robin-song found its inmates afoot; the young man at the call of long habit, the elder prowling about in foretaste of what he believed was to be his long-awaited triumph. They met in the oaken room below stairs, where they ate together at the board table, served by a grumpy and elderly woman who the day before had not been in evidence.

“Now, Don lad,” advised the old gunmaker when they had finished, “I advise ye to take ye down to the Big Bend where, I doubt not, you will find much to see and to amuse yourself withal. The big shooting is not until afternoon, but there will be the smaller matches and many other doings worth your while to see.”

“I will e’en do that, suh,” agreed Don, “but come ye not also?”

“Nay, lad,” replied the old man cunningly. “I have seen many such; and it is not my purpose to disclose for the common questioning my new production. I will be there when the hour strikes, but not before. And besides, I await John Gladden, who comes before the time to make trial of the new rifle and to fit his holding to its sighting.”

“In that case, suh, I will follow your advice,” said the young man, plucking his felt hat from the peg. “When the young-un awakens, give her my greeting.”

“But Don!” Farrell halted him at the door, “Are you not taking your own piece with you?”

“For why?” the visitor smiled quaintly. “Do you expect an attack of the savages?”

“But will ye not enter in the shooting?” expostulated the gunmaker. “Not the great match; but there will be many others—block shoots and peg shoots and turkey shoots wherein many will take part.”

Don shook his head.

“Perchance, if your piece is not quite true, another could be found for you in my shops,” suggested Farrell. “Gladly may you have the loan of such.”

“My piece is as true as any,” the young man assured him. He hesitated, then went on steadily, “I had not thought to mention it, suh, but the truth is I am travelin’ through on a visit, and must return, and my pockets are not so lined with shillings that I may spend them on aught else but the journey.”

“Let me——”

“No, suh,” Don interrupted firmly, “—but I am obleeged to you, suh.”

He turned toward the door. At the stairway’s foot stood the little girl, barefooted, in her night shift, her ringleted hair towsled about her head.

“If you see that old Tiger, you kill him!” cried she.

For the first time the grave young stranger laughed aloud.

“If I see that old Tigah, honey,” he replied, “I’ll be shore to info’m him just what you told me.”