Country life -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Kentucky -- Fiction
the glory of hill, tree and chasm without. Next morning at home, where
we rise early, no one was allowed to waken her and she had breakfast in
bed--for the Blight's gentle tyranny was established on sight and varied
not at the Gap.
When she went down the street that day everybody stared surreptitiously
and with perfect respect, as her dainty black plumed figure passed; the
post-office clerk could barely bring himself to say that there was no
letter for her. The soda-fountain boy nearly filled her glass with syrup
before he saw that he was not strictly minding his own business; the
clerk, when I bought chocolate for her, unblushingly added extra weight
and, as we went back, she met them both--Marston, the young engineer
from the North, crossing the street and, at the same moment, a drunken
young tough with an infuriated face reeling in a run around the corner
ahead of us as though he were being pursued. Now we have a volunteer
police guard some forty strong at the Gap--and from habit, I started
for him, but the Blight caught my arm tight. The young engineer in three
strides had reached the curb-stone and all he sternly said was:
“Here! Here!”
The drunken youth wheeled and his right hand shot toward his hip pocket.
The engineer was belted with a pistol, but with one lightning movement
and an incredibly long reach, his right fist caught the fellow's jaw
so that he pitched backward and collapsed like an empty bag. Then the
engineer caught sight of the Blight's bewildered face, flushed, gripped
his hands in front of him and simply stared. At last he saw me:
“Oh,” he said, “how do you do?” and he turned to his prisoner, but the
panting sergeant and another policeman--also a volunteer--were already
lifting him to his feet. I introduced the boy and the Blight then, and
for the first time in my life I saw the Blight--shaken. Round-eyed, she
merely gazed at him.
“That was pretty well done,” I said.
“Oh, he was drunk and I knew he would be slow.” Now something curious
happened. The dazed prisoner was on his feet, and his captors were
starting with him to the calaboose when he seemed suddenly to come to
his senses.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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