As though not daring to hear that seductive voice repeat its query, he spoke up hastily. "Why, sho', Belle-Ann!" he blurted in confusion. "O' course, I'd like t' be a Christian--an' I'll sho' be at th' ded'cation Sabbath. Belle-Ann, air yo' down on me 'cose I go below t' make money what I can't make th' likes of hyarbouts?" Orlick suddenly produced the roll of bank-notes, and, shuffling them up, rained them down in one greenish, crisp pile of opulence upon the wagon-bed. This unexpected spectacle staggered the girl's senses for the moment. She had never seen so much money in all her life before. Her eyes grew round with astonishment. CHAPTER V ORLICK'S MONEY SPURNED "Oh, Orlick!" she breathed in amazement. Unconsciously she sat down on the wagon-bed, with the pile of money beside her; and thus, wholly enthralled, she muttered faint exclamations. Orlick's eyes glittered in their devouring scrutiny, fixed upon Belle-Ann's beauty. "Oh, Orlick," she reiterated, "is thes all yore money? Where did yo' git all thes money, Orlick?" For an instant he fumbled blindly for words; then found them at the end of his short, ingratiating laugh. He lied with a gusto that reddened his face. "Git hit!" he echoed blatantly. "Why, Belle-Ann, I worked fo' hit! I'm trainin' hosses below, I git a hundred a month, Belle-Ann; an' I don't drink, an' I 'low t' save my money, I do, 'cose yo' know I 'low t' git married, Belle-Ann; an' hit takes a powerful sight o' money t' keep a wife like I'm aimin' t' do. "I hain't aimin' t' keep my wife in these mountains. She'll dry up an' blow away 'fore a buddy kin git to her to bury her. I air a goin' t' buy a nice house in Louisville an' fill hit up with fancy fixin's, an', talk about fine, fancy clothes--well, mebby my wife won't hev some fine things, 'cose I got th' money t' git 'em with, Belle-Ann!" "Orlick," she said, "how much do yo' 'low is heah?" So engrossed was she in lifting the bills one by one out of the tangled heap, examining both sides minutely, and laying them in one smooth stack, that she had heard little of Orlick's discourse, being vaguely conscious only that he was talking. "Why, Belle-Ann," said he, "hit's fo' hundred dollars!" He chuckled immoderately and pressed his cowlick down, which defiant tuft popped instantly back to its position of attention. "Yes," he went on, noting every look that crossed her lovely face as she proceeded, deeply absorbed in handling this dazzling pile of wealth. "Yes--an' a hundred a month comin' long all th' time. Thet hain't powerful bad fo' a boy like me--air hit, Belle-Ann?" Orlick rubbed his hands in the throes of self-exaltation and added a laugh that grated upon the girl's senses, inspiring her with a sudden impulse to end this conversation without delay. "I reckon I'll be a goin'. Slab'll cum soon from th' mill, an' I got some bakin' t' do."