JOE BAKER’S GAL.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2634, 16 October 1909, Page 9 (Supplement)

JOE BAKER’S GAL.

(By M. Quad —C. I). Lewis.) "A right smart gd,” was the tern; pp.ied to Joe Baiter's daughter hi ary. y; t-rery mountaineer who visited her father's cabin or met her cir the mountain ti nil or in tee hamlet, boasting oi its one store and post office and blacksmith shop. She was "right smart,'' because she was above the ordinary m lochs and appearance —because she had keot house for her lather since her mother died—because die could read arid write and discuss matters with the circuit rider who came that way at

1 Ion*! intervals: and preached to them. Joe-Baker was a moonshiner. So were most cf his neighbors for that matter. If there were any who were not active in the work of producing illicit whisky, thev were sympathisers and could be depended on to keep the secret. Baker had begun business with one small still: and after three years he had three in operation, and gave work to a dozen men. He was a man of push, and yet everybody said that if diary hadn’t been the “right smart gelt” she was the father could never have got beyond the one still. It was she who did the planning and figuring and kept track <“ purchases and sales. It was known to the revenue men cf North Carolina that somewhere above the blue smoke hiding Buzzard’s Peak in the Alleghenies, Jcs Baker had a nest of stills, but they hunted for them in vain. Some who went in search never returned; seme came back to have, bullets dug out of their bodies People who took the trail over Buzzard’s Peak had to give an account cf themselves. Revenue men went forth under the guise of hunters, land-look-ers. peddlers, surveyors, and what not, but they failed on their mission. The hiding place‘cf the stills remained undiscovered, and Joe Baker continued to market moonshine whisky in liberal quantities. There came a day when they adopted a desperate expedient. A boy cf fourteen, frank-faced and soft of voice, and still clinging to his mother and the fairy tales of youth, was induced to turn spy. Good luck attended him for a time. Hei passed up the mountain trail unseen and unchallenged, and lie lead located one of Lhe stills before his presence was discovered. It was Mary herself who came upon him face to face as he skulked in the gloomy ravine.. She was passing from the cabin to the still, and as she- had a rifle on her shoulder there ■ was no chance for the spy to got away. &he drove him down the path before her to the still, and turned him over to the stern-faced, revengeful man before she had had a good look at his face.. She 'knew not whether he was boy or man until they had passed out of the' shadow of the thickets and stood in the presence of those who had boasted that they never spaml'the life of a revenue’ spy. “Befo’'tlie Lawd. hut itfs a: boy!" exclaimed the girl as she finally looked her prisoner in: the face. He might have been told that there was a risk cf capture, but if so ho had been further informed that it would end in nothing worse than ’threats or a few blows with a switch. There was no anxiety in Ms face as he returned the girl’s long stare. That came a moment afterward, when Jce Baker growled::

“Well gell. Yo’ kin go back and leave him to ns. He’s only a- cub. but he’irgo tile* way of the others.” The girl looked again, and she noted the frank face', the big blue eves and the trembling lip, and pity came to her heart. It was a contemptible thing to send that boy- spying where the penalty was death'. She saw him begin to pale and ho looked into the faces of the men, and she wished that ho had escaped her. It was the first time- she had ever felt any sentiment besides revenge for one who had come to betray. She did not plead for the boy, however. If the thought had' come to her she would) have dismissed it as a waste -ofi wards. “They are? after me and I'aim after them.” was J'ce Baker’s saying, and he would have laughed at the idea of setting the boy at liberty to bring: up a force of revenue- men. The gild slowly turned away and climbed the path, and the boy was left behind' with the men who had decided in tlieif hearts that he must die. She made her way to the cabin and sat down; on the doorstep, and with elbows ■on lier kneel and chin on her palms she stared at the pines across the road and remembered only the boyish face and Bigi blue eyes. She was still sitting there an hour rater, when her father, leading the boy-spy by the arm, appeared and said: “Gell. lie’s to be shet up yere in the cabin till to-morrow, then the men will all be yere and we’ll make him talk aif settle his case.”

Mary rose up and stared into the boy’s face again. It was pale 'and pinched and drawn, and there was fear in the blue eyes. He had been spared for a few hours, hut he realised that he must die. He was led past her into the house and into her bed-room, and was there bound hand and foot and left lying, on the floor. “Look in on him now and then,” cautioned the father as he returned to the door, where the girl was still standing. “Are they goin’ to —to—r —?” stammered Mary, as she turned her face away.

“Yes, of co’se. He’ll bring the revenooers np yere for suali. Yes, he’s got to die.” “But he’s so young.” . “Can’t help that. He’s just as dangerous as a full-grown man. Mighty peart of yo’. gell, to light on him as yo’ did, and yo’ shall her a new dress fur it. I’ll be up agin at midnight.”

' hkthoiy J she called as ho began away, "if to’ was suah the boy ,y :•;! ; cr-v-.r, never tell —-if he would give r.s his soknm premise to —to —?” "die's break his word, gel!, and it’s no 11- e a a argefy. They are a gam ns and we are agin them, and we can’t taka- no chance?. Keep a close watch and see that ho don’t wriggle out.” The girl stood at the door lor ton minutes after her father had disappeared among the trees. Then she entered the house and passed on to her hod roc in and sat down in a chair. The hey prisoner was weeping. "Why did you do it?” she asked after a while. "They—they wanted me to. and I wanted money to help mother.” he replied.

‘•ls vo’r father dead?” “Yes.” “Have yo’ brothers and sisters?” “No; mother and me are alone. She don’t know, anythin*! about this, and r.-hen I don’t coma back it will break her heart.” “They will kill yo’, Boy—kill yo' fur suak,” said Mary after a long silence. “Y—yes. but I’m not going to be a baby any mo’. They shan’t see any more tears. I’ll give vo’ mother’s name, and some day mebbe, yo’ll see her and tell her that I won’t never come hack. You’ll do that much for me and her, won’t yo’?” The girl sat for a moment in silence. Then she rose up and passed out of the room and tno'k her old place and attitude on the doorstep. The sun was •sinking away, but she did not notice it. The buweirds were coming up from the valleys and uttering their discordant calls as they ckimed the tree tops, hut she minded them not. She was busy with her thoughts, and her thoughts wore of the boy in the room behind her. A long half-hour had passed, and the shadows of twilight were beginning to gather, when footsteps aroused her and she looked up to find Cy. Disbrow beside her. Cy was a young man. the son of a neighhour. ail’d he had been in love with her for two years past. He was also spoken of as “right smart,”ainl indeed was above the average in intelligence. The girl had given her promise and the marriage was to take, place at Christmas.

“What yo’ back for?” she queried as he sat down beside her..

“To help yo’ watch liim,” lio replied as lio motioned toward the interior oi tlie house.

‘■Qv,” slio continued after a minute, “he's only u boy—only a boy.” “But lie’s got eyes and a tongue.”' “lie’s only a boy, and tliere’s nobody else but a sick mother. It’s gwuie to break her heart for mi ah. Why don’t yo’ switch him and let him go?”

“Too mighty risky, Mary,” lie replied as lm dug liis toes into the ground and looked away from her. “Yo’r pop is sot, and I’m sot, and all the- rest are sot. If wo let him go them rovenooers would git it out of him somehow.”

“But yo’d do it for me, Cy—yo’d do it for me?” “N’m. Can’t skassly say I would, Hilary—not skassly. I’m lovin’ yo’’and wa’uns are gwine to be married, but tliot boy would send the revenooers up yore and we’d be busted up and sent to prison. Better let yo’r pop have liis wav.”

The girl clasped her hands and looked away into the forest, and there was silence for five minutes. Then she said: “Cv, I ain’t) gwine to say no mo’’ about it. Yo’ needn’t stop yere to look out for the boy. Tie’s tied so tight he can’t get away. Better go back to the still.” “But yo’r pop sent me,”' lie protested. “Makes no difference. I’m big enough to look out for the boy, and I hain’t fooling peart and want to be alone. Take a look at him and go back.”

The young man rose up reluctantly and entered the cabin and saw that the hoy was lying huddled up on the floor. When he returned to the door, he shouldered his rifle, and said: “I reckoned to talk to yo’ ’bout Christinas to-night, But if yo,’ don't consider to reckon ” “Yo c may kiss me, Cy,” she interrupted as she rose up. “Now, then, jog along.” He went without another word, and she watched till lii's form was lost to view in the deeper twilight of the forest-. She waited one—two —three minutes longer, and then with a look of resolution on her face she entered the house. Tile boy heard her moving a b ou t —saw her enter her room and gather up articles of wear—he even heard her- sob now and then as she passed to and fro. He said nothing, but he wondered and puzzled and hoped. By and by she came in to him and untied the ropes binding his limbs and quietly said: “Come, boy, it’s time to be gwine.”

“'VYliat —ivliat is it?’’ he asked. 14 We are gwine away. Yo’ are gwine home to yo’r mother agin. If yo’ was a man I wouldn’t say a word or make a move to save yo’r life, but yo’ are a boy and have got a mother waiting tor yo’ and it has softened my heart. Yes, I’ll send you back home to her, and don’t yo’ never come here agin, I’ve seen spies hung or shot or pushed over precipices up yere, and I’ve never raised a hand to prevent.” “But why have yo’ got a bundled” be asked. “I want to live and go back to mother, but—but ” “Hush up and come along,” she whispered as the echo of a distant shout reached their ears. They left the cabin hand in hand, the girl sobbing in her throat and the

bay wandering, and they bad silently traversed the rocky trail for half a mile 'Alien she swerved aside and nat down ;n a sione and put her hands to her race. After a minute the boy softly ia!led at her sleeve and she dashed the tsars away and r, so up and said: ■■Came ah my. 1 couldn’t let? ’em kill vo*. and to save y.r I’ve had to leave father, home, and all else behind. Yo’ see. they’ll never, never forgive mo. and I can never go hack.” “But I won’t have it that way!” exclaimed the bey, as he hung back. ■'■We’ll go back and let ’era. kill me. I won’t let yo’ be driven from home on account of me.” She looked up the dark trail and choked and gasped, and then, reaching cut. she clutched his arm, and pulled him forward and said: ‘‘'l’m .Toe Baker’s gcll no mo’. Como along.”