Blue Ridge Mountains -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction
He fell silent, recalling old wives' tales of fearsome things seen and
heard of nights. The shoes adjusted, he took from the black bag a
holster, which sheltered a formidable-appearing Colt's revolver.
Having made sure that the weapon was loaded and in perfect order, Zeke
returned it to the holster, which he put on snugly under the left
arm-pit. These final preparations complete, he got up, and hastened
into the town.
One bit more of his musings he spoke aloud, just before he entered the
main street:
"No, I hain't superstitious. But, by crickey! I'm plumb tickled I giv
Plutiny thet fairy cross. They say them stones is shore lucky."
At the railway station, Zeke asked for a ticket to Norfolk.
"Want a return-trip ticket?" the friendly station-agent suggested. He
supposed the young mountaineer was taking a pleasure excursion to the
city.
But Zeke shook his head defiantly, and spoke with utter forgetfulness
of his experience in Joines' store.
"No," he declared stoutly, "I hain't a-comin' back till I've made my
fortin."
"You'll be a long time gone from this-here State o' Wilkes," the agent
vouchsafed dryly. He would have said more, but his shrewd eyes saw in
this young man's expression something that bade him pause, less
sceptical. The handsome and wholesome face showed a strength of its
own in the resolute curving nose and the firmly-set lips and the
grave, yet kindly, eyes, with a light of purposeful intelligence
glowing within their clear deeps. The tall form, broad of shoulder,
deep of chest, narrow of hip, though not yet come to the fulness of
maturity, was of the evident strength fitted to toil hugely at the
beck of its owner's will. The agent, conscious of a puny frame that
had served him ill in life's struggle, experienced a half-resentment
against this youth's physical excellence. He wondered, if, after all,
the boast might be justified by the event.
"Train in ten minutes," he said curtly, as he pushed out the ticket.
So, presently, Zeke, found himself seated for the first time on the
red plush seat of a railway carriage. The initial stage of his journey
was ended; the second was begun.
CHAPTER III
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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