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Page 19
The mountains were full of wildcats too, which made their situation
worse, as these fierce animals were frequently known to attack men as
savagely as wolves do. One day while we were there two travelers
camped under the tree where our family was roosting. They had
evidently had a hard time making their way through the tangled
undergrowth, for as one of the men flung himself down on the ground and
stretched himself out at full length, he exclaimed peevishly:
"Well, I don't want any more such experiences. I'm dead tired; my face
is all scratched with the thorns and bushes; and I haven't seen a
newspaper for a week. If the railroad company needs any more work of
this kind done, they must get somebody else."
"Fiddle-dee-dee! You mustn't be so easily discouraged," answered the
other young man, who had already set to work scraping up dry chips and
pieces of bark to make a fire, "Think of these poor mountaineers who
stay here all their lives. Your little tramp of a few days is nothing
to what they do all the time and never think of complaining. The half
of them are too poor to own a mule. They eat hog and hominy the year
around, and are thankful to get it. Their clothes are fearfully and
wonderfully made, but for all that they don't give up and think life
isn't worth living."
As the two young fellows talked on in this strain I named them Growler
and Cheery, because the one was so determined to look on the dark side,
while the other took a cheerful view of everything. Growler continued
to lounge on the ground, looking with careless interest at Cheery, who
was preparing dinner.
The dinner was in a small tin box which he took from his coat pocket.
Opening it he disclosed some eatables very compactly put in. He took
out several articles and set them on the ground in front of him. In
the box was a bottle stoutly corked containing a dark liquid, some of
which he poured into a flat tin cup which formed a part of the lid of
the box. This he set over the fire, which by this time was snapping
cheerily.
"Come," he said. "Here's a lunch fit for a king. Get up and have your
share. Maybe when your stomach is warmed up with a few ham and mustard
sandwiches, some cheese and coffee, you'll be in better spirits. These
crackers are good eating too."
"Fit for a king, eh? Mighty poor kind of a king, I should say,"
growled Growler sarcastically; but he rose and flicked the leaves and
twigs from his clothing before he helped himself to the coffee which
was now hot.
"One cup for two people is just one too few," laughed Cheery when it
came his turn to take some. "My! but it tastes good. There's nothing
like the open air to give one an appetite."
"I don't like coffee without cream," objected Growler, chewing moodily
at his cracker.
"Well, we'll get to Girard by to-night, and then possibly we will get a
good supper."
While they were lunching I had observed another traveler slowly
approaching through the underbrush. Over one shoulder was slung a
leather strap in which were a few books. He carried a rifle, and from
his coat pocket bulged a small package. As he drew nearer the sound of
his footsteps startled Growler who nervously upset his coffee over his
shirt front.
"What d'ye suppose he is?" he asked of Cheery as the stranger
approached.
"I judge he's a parson, from the cut of his clothes," observed Cheery.
Then as the new-comer advanced he called: "Hello, friend! Who'd 'a
thought of meeting company this far back in these mountains?"
"This is only about eight miles from the town where I live," answered
the gentleman, who now seated himself near them with his back against a
tree, "I know the paths through here fairly well, for I come this way
several times through the summer. But this will be my last trip for
the season, and I'm giving a little more time to it on that account.
I've taken it somewhat leisurely to-day."
He was a delicate-looking, middle-aged man, with a mild voice and a
kind face.
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