Leave the man to me."
Chauvenet turned and faced a scowling mountaineer who held a rifle and
drew it to his shoulder as Chauvenet threw out his arms, dropped them to
his thighs and laughed carelessly.
"What is it, my dear fellow--my watch--my purse--my horse?" he said in
English.
"He wants none of those things," said Shirley, urging her horse a few
steps toward the man. "The mountain people are not robbers. What can we
do for you?" she asked pleasantly.
"You cain't do nothin' for me," drawled the man. "Go on away, Miss. I
want to see this little fella'. I got a little business with him."
"He is a foreigner--he knows little of our language. You will do best to
let me stay," said Shirley.
She had not the remotest idea of what the man wanted, but she had known
the mountain folk from childhood and well understood that familiarity
with their ways and tact were necessary in dealing with them.
"Miss, I have seen you befo', and I reckon we ain't got no cause for
trouble with you; but this little fella' ain't no business up hy'eh. Them
hotel people has their own places to ride and drive, and it's all right
for you, Miss; but what's yo' frien' ridin' the hills for at night? He's
lookin' for some un', and I reckon as how that some un' air me!"
He spoke drawlingly with a lazy good humor in his tones, and Shirley's
wits took advantage of his deliberation to consider the situation from
several points of view.
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