letter, he often uses words he wouldn't use in conversation.'
'Down to the store, the men set about talking of politics, planting, the wars, Injuns and suchlike, and most of them can argue the Bible up one side an' down the other. Because a man doesn't speak good English doesn't mean he doesn't have ideas.'
'Our atheist, he's a book-learned man. Nothing folks like better than to get him and the preacher talking history and religion. They'll argue sundown to sunup, and folks settin' about listenin'. There's old Mr. Fothergill, he was in the army as a boy and went upon the sea a time or two. He can't read nor write but he's bright, an' he can argue down both of them when he wants.'
'Some folks think that being smart in the books is the only kind of smart, but that just isn't so. Men learn a lot by doin', and they learn by listenin' to what others say, but when a man is workin' on a farm or walkin' in the woods or ridin' across country, he can do a lot of thinking. Many a man who reads a lot just repeats what he's read, and not what he thinks.'
'It seems to me,' I added, 'that a body may have a dozen sets of words he uses on occasion. Anyway, lots of men who work at hand labor have read a good bit and can talk of things far from their work.'
Given a chance, I changed the subject, because this was about as good a chance as I would get to learn more about grandfather.
'Yes,' Mr. Chantry replied when asked, 'you are right in what you say. Daubeny Sackett was such a man. He was the finest woodsman I ever knew, and a fantastic shot with a rifle, but when the occasion demanded, he could discuss government or philosophy with the best. He had read few books, I believe, but had read them several times. But that was the way of it in those days.'
'He was at the Battle of King's Mountain and at Cowpens also. I last saw him at the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown.'
'He knew them all, you know. Washington, Jefferson, Patrick Henry, George Mason ... He was quite a man, your grandfather.'
He ordered more coffee and I glanced over at the table where the three young men had been. Other folks sat there now.
'Echo? What are your plans? You could stay here, you know. There are several very fine schools for young ladies, and from the attention you are attracting from the young men, I cannot imagine you would be lonely.'
'No, sir. I shall head for the hills again when morning comes. The folks back home will wonder how I am faring.'
'You could stay, you know. I have a very large, very empty house, and Mary Brennan - she's my housekeeper - would love to have you to fuss over. I am afraid I demand too little of her time.'
'Thank you, sir. I'm a-longing for the smell of the pines, and I want to see the clouds gatherin' over Clingman's Dome.'
'You should come a-callin' sometime when the leaves are falling and it gets on to storytellin' time. Most of our young-uns learn their history from stories told by the fireside. It isn't the history you folks know, but it's the story of people we know or our grandfolks knew.'
'Wars aren't far-off things to us. Pa fit in the War of 1812. He was with the Kentucky riflemen who stood behind the bales of cotton at New Orleans. When fightin' men were needed, there was always a Sackett to be found.'
Mr. Chantry, I thought, was a lonely man, and when we lingered at table it was because he wished to prolong the time. I knew how he felt, because many a time when we'd set by the fire telling stories or singin' the old ballads like 'Greensleeves' or 'Barbry Alien,' I wished it would never end.
'I miss my wife, Echo,' he said suddenly. 'You are so like her, so very feminine.' He glanced at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes. 'Somehow, I cannot imagine you with a rifle.'
'I grew up with one, used a rifle as soon as a needle. I used to walk the woods to school, or canoe on the rivers, and when a girl's much alone, she becomes independent. I've camped out in the woods when caught by storms. It never worried me much.'
'You leave in the morning?'
'Yes, sir. I have already booked passage on the stage.'
'You must be careful. You will be carrying what is a great deal of money to some people, and that little iron box could buy you a farm in the flatlands, and a big farm at that.'
'Felix Horst is still here, and I do not believe it is an accident. He owes White a favor and he is a dangerous man. I wish you would change your mind and stay with me.'
'If Horst comes after me for the money,' I said, 'I think it will be for himself. He looks like a meaner man than Mr. White. He'd rob a man quick enough, I think, and kill him, too. Once I get in the woods, I won't be worried about such as him.'
Mr. Chantry smiled, shaking his head. 'You Sacketts! You always amaze me!'
'We live in wild country, sir. I know folks who think all wild things are sweet and cuddly, but they've never come into a henhouse after a weasel has been there. He can drink the blood of only one or two, but often as not he'll kill every one of them. Wolves will do it in a pen of lambs, too. There are savage beasts in the world, Mr. Chantry, and men who are just as savage. We've come upon them now and again.'
Well, I switched the subject to pleasanter things and got him to telling me of his courtship and how he proposed and all. When he stopped the carriage at Mrs. Sulky's, it was mighty late. As the carriage moved away, something stirred in the shadows across the street.
The trouble was, when I snuggled down in bed, I wasn't thinking of the stage that would take me west to Pittsburgh, but of the back of that young man's head and those broad shoulders. The trouble was, I'd probably never see him again, or get to know him.
Amy Sulky was in the kitchen when I came down the stairs before daybreak. She was there working with the black woman who did most of the cooking. She was a free woman wedded to a man who was coachman for a wealthy family. They went to the door with me and Amy fretted some. 'I don't like it! You going home alone, all that way! And you carrying money!'
'The less said of it, the better,' I cautioned. 'But don't you worry none. I've been about the mountains more than a bit.'
We said our good-byes and I taken up my carpetbag, a good bit heavier now, but nothing I couldn't handle. Back in the hills I'd rustled stumps and logs for the fire more than once, and was accustomed to carryin' weight.
First off, I taken a good look about, but saw nobody watching me.
At the coach house there was a goodly crowd, but it was not until I was seated that I saw that man with the hard gray hat and the houndstooth coat a-settin' in the corner of the mail coach across from me, but in the farthest corner. There were twelve passengers, and the rest seemed what a body would expect. Five were women, aside from me, but only one who was youngish. She was a pert, pretty girl with big eyes and a friendly smile.
Seated close beside me was a little old lady with gray hair and quick blue eyes.
We started at a brisk pace, but the road was rough and we bounced around a good deal, which would have been worse but for the bulky sacks of mail crowded in with us. That little old lady was crowded right up to me, and once, glancing down, I noticed that her carpetbag, a new one, was just like mine.
Several times I sneaked a look at the man in the gray hat and houndstooth coat, but he was looking out the window and paying me no mind. It could be he was on business of his own and I was just too suspicious. Nevertheless, I decided to stay suspicious.
We passed several wagons with families bound to the westward, the men walking, the women and children inside. Mostly they were Conestoga wagons, big, strongly built, and built to float if need be. Mostly these folks, according to one of the men on the coach, were heading for Illinois or Missouri. A man named Birkbeck had been settling folks on land he had in Illinois.
We stopped to let off a couple of people in Lancaster, and pick up one more. Regal was forever talking about the fine rifles made at this place by the Pennsylvania Dutch. At least, that's what he called them.
My thoughts kept straying back to that young man in the dining room that night. Dorian Chantry. It was a nice name. I minded what Regal said, 'Don't be in no hurry. You'll meet a hundred men, maybe one or two of them worthwhile and of the right age.'
'What's the right age?' I had asked him.
