The castaway’s gaze went to the girl kneeling beside him.

“An’ the furrin woman!” he muttered.

Florence came running with the flask, which was full of brandy.

“Quick!” Josephine urged. “He’s better, but he’s raving crazy. Thinks I’m a foreigner.”

But, as Florence could have filled the cup of the flask, Zeke interposed, with more animation than he had hitherto shown.

“If so be that’s likker, an’ ye ’lows to give hit to me, if hit don’t make no p’tic’lar diff’rence to you-all, I’d like to drink hit right smack outen thet-thar new-fangled bottle, jest as we be a-used to doin’ in the State o’ Wilkes.”

“As you wish, of course,” Florence replied, soothingly. “It will make a new man of you.”

Zeke promptly sat up and put his lips to the mouth of the flask, and held them there while the rhythmic movement of his adam’s apple visibly witnessed thirstiness. The girls regarded him with astonishment, which quickly merged in dismay, for 109 they could not guess the boomer’s capacity for fiery drink. As a matter of fact, Zeke, while he drank, lamented the insipidity of the draught, and sighed for a swig of moonshine to rout the chill in his veins with its fluid flames. He, in turn, was presently to learn, with astonishment, that a beverage so mild to the taste had all the potency of his mountain dram, and more. Chilled as he had been by the long hours of exposure to the night air of the sea, while drifting the fifteen miles from Ocracoke Inlet, and worn in body and mind by the peril of his situation, Zeke found himself almost at once strengthened and cheered by the generous spirit. He was, in fact, another man than the exhausted castaway, as the girl had promised; he was himself again. He was still weak and shaken; but his splendid vitality was asserting itself. The gray, drawn face was colored to golden tan; the clear eyes were shining with new appreciation of the joy of life. He had not thought much after the very first, during those long, racking hours of tossing on the sea. His brain had become numb. His fancies had run to tender memories of moments spent with Plutina. Often, he had felt her presence there with him, in the dark spaces of the sea. But the idea that most dominated his mind had sprung from the lusty instinct of self-preservation; he must cling to the raft. It had been the one thing 110 that he could do toward safety. His whole will had centered in the clutch of his hands on the tubes.

Seeing the man thus recovered, the girls withdrew toward the runabout to adjust their clothing, and to find some garment for the man, since he wore only shirt and trousers. But the bull-terrier, for a wonder, did not follow its mistress. Instead, it sat on its haunches close to the mountaineer, and muzzled his hand. Zeke pulled the dog’s ears gently.

“That thump I gin ye must ’a’ struck plumb down to yer heart, an’ made a right-smart change in yer affections. Ye wa’n’t so dummed friendly when ye tuck thet-thar hunk out o’ my pants.”

The dog whined an answer, and crept fawningly into the mountaineer’s lap, where it nestled contentedly. It was thus that the girls, returning with a rain-coat, found the two, and they stared in surprise, for the bull-terrier was none too amiable with strangers.

“I never knew Chubbie make friends like that before,” Josephine exclaimed. She looked in fresh curiosity upon the wholesome face with the regular features, rather stern in repose, but now softened by a smile. “It must be because he helped us pull you out. We couldn’t have done it without him. That makes you belong to him, in a way.”

Zeke stared at the dog, with new respect. 111

“The darned son of a gun!” he ejaculated, gravely. “I reckon,” he continued after a meditative pause, “the little cuss felt like he owed me somethin’ fer sp’ilin’ my jeans. That crack I gin him put the fear o’ God into his bosom, so to speak. ‘The more ye beat ’em, the better they be.’”

Josephine started at his words. Without a hat, the dark curls had given a look so different to the face that, until now, she had not recognized the man of the ferry-boat.

“Why,” she cried, “you are the one!” She turned to the bewildered Florence. Her blue eyes were flashing; her voice was hard. “He’s the creature that almost killed Chubbie. And to think we troubled to save him!”

“That hell-fired pup o’ your’n took a holt on me first,” Zeke protested wrathfully, forgetful of his reconciliation with the dog. Then, a plaintive whine recalled him. He smiled whimsically, as he patted the bull-terrier’s head, which was lifted toward him fondly. The anger died out of his face, and he smiled. “I’ve hearn these-hyar dumb critters git things ’bout right by instinct, somehow. Yer dawg’s done fergive me. Won’t you-all, mum?”

Josephine hesitated. The ingenuous appeal touched her. Only pride held her from yielding.

“An’, besides,” Zeke went on, “ye was a-sayin’ as how the dawg kind o’ felt I belonged to him like, 112 bein’ he he’ped pull me out o’ the ocean, an’ so he had to like me. Thet-thar argyment goes fer you-all, too, mum. So, I ’low ye gotter fergive me—specially kase yer dawg begun hit.”

Josephine relaxed with a ripple of laughter. The mountaineer both interested and pleased her. To her inevitable interest in one whom she had helped to save from death, there was now added a personal attraction. She perceived, with astonishment, that this was by no means the hulking brute she had deemed him when her pet had suffered at his hands. The dog’s attitude toward him impressed her deeply. Moreover, she saw that he was intelligent, as well as naÏve. She perceived that he had humor and quickness of feeling. His responsiveness to the dog’s advances pleased her. She was greedy of experience and knowledge, easily bored by familiar things, likely to be vastly interested, for a brief season, in the new and strange. She realized that here, ready to her hand, was a type wholly novel. She felt that it was her prerogative to understand something of the nature of this singular being thus cast at her feet by fate. Certainly, it would be absurd to cherish any rancor. As he had said, the dog’s action sufficed. Besides, she must be friendly if she would learn concerning this personality. Every reason justified inclination. She rebelled no 113 longer. Her blue eyes gleamed with genuine kindliness, as she spoke:

“I’ll take Chubbie’s word for it.” Her voice became authoritative. “Now, if you feel equal to standing up, we’ll have this rain-coat on you, and then run you down to the yacht. We’ll attend to landing you somewhere after you’ve rested and had something to eat.”

Already Josephine’s brain was busy, scheming to her own ends, but of this she gave no hint.

Zeke pushed away the reluctant dog, and rose up stiffly. The stimulation of the brandy stood him in good stead.

“I ’low I’m havin’ a right-smart lot of experience,” he remarked, chuckling. “What with steam-cars, an’ boats, an’ wrecks, an’ now one o’ them ornery devil-wagons. I hain’t a-feared none,” he added, musingly, “but I hain’t a-pinin’ neither. I reckon I kin stand anythin’ what gals an’ a dog kin. I’m plumb nervous or hungry—I don’t know which. Both, like’s not!”

He rejected the offer of support, and walked firmly enough to the machine, which he eyed distrustfully. Florence took the rear seat, and Zeke established himself beside Josephine, the dog between his feet. After the first few minutes, he found himself delighting in this smooth, silent rush over the white sands. In answer to Josephine’s question, he gave 114 a bare outline of his adventures in the three days of his absence from the mountains.

“I was a-hankerin’ arter experience,” he concluded, “an’ aimin’ to make my everlastin’ fortin. I been doin’ pretty peart, so fer.”

“You’ve certainly had more than your share of experience in the time,” Josephine agreed; “though I don’t know about the fortune.”

“Started right-smack off at the rate of more’n seventy-five thousand dollars a year,” Zeke rejoined, complacently. He laughed joyously at the bewildered face the girl turned to him.

“I done figured hit out las’ night, not havin’ much of anythin’ to do on thet-thar raft, ’cept to stick.” He gave an account of the capture of the negro outlaw, for which he had received a reward. “I’m only a-jokin’, of course,” he went on with new seriousness. “I hain’t pinin’ fer no foolishness. All I want is enough so’s not to be hog-pore. An’ I got a chance to learn somethin’, an’ to make somethin’, an’, arter all, go right on livin’ in my own country. An’ that’s what Plutiny wants, too. An’ I’ll have enough to buy her straighteners, if she wants ’em, by cracky!”

“Oh—straighteners?” Josephine repeated, mystified. Vague memories of a visit to a hospital suggested an explanation. “Then, this person you speak of, Plutina, is deformed?” 115

“Deformed!” For an instant, Zeke could only repeat the word, helplessly.

“A curvature of the spine, I suppose,” Josephine continued, without interest. She had her eyes on the ribbon of sand now, and guessed nothing as to her companion’s disturbance, until his voice came in a burst of protest that made her jump.

“Plutiny—deformed!” he exclaimed, harshly. Then, his voice softened wonderfully, though it shook with the tensity of his feeling. “Why, Plutiny’s better’n anybody else in all the world—she is, an’ she looks hit. Plutiny—deformed! Why, my Plutiny’s straight as thet-thar young pine tree atop Bull Head Mounting. An’ she’s as easy an’ graceful to bend an’ move as the alders along Thunder Branch. There hain’t nary other woman in all the world to ekal my Plutiny. Plutiny—deformed! Why, mum, you-all talk plumb foolish.”

The girl was too astonished before this outburst to take offense.

“But you spoke about straighteners for her,” she protested.

Zeke stared for a moment, then grinned understandingly.

“Thet’s what we-uns call ’em,” he said. “You-all call ’em corsets.”

Yet, the effect of this conversation reached beyond the humorous. In some subtle fashion, it 116 provoked the girl to keener interest in the young man. She was perhaps, though she would have denied the suggestion hotly, a little piqued by the exaltation with which he praised his rustic sweetheart. Josephine was an exceedingly attractive young woman, and she was accustomed to having men show their appreciation of the fact. It was new to her thus essentially to be ignored, and not quite agreeable. There could be no tender interest between herself and this handsome barbarian. The idea even of flirtation was quite inconceivable. Nevertheless, it was strange that he should be so imperceptive of her charms. Doubtless, his eyes were blind to the refinements of beauty. They should be opened. It would be dreadful if the fellow should grow away from the girl who was waiting for him. And yet—Josephine checked her thoughts, and blushed a little. But a plan matured.

That plan was followed diplomatically when she secured a private interview with her father, after the return on board the yacht.

“Daddy, dear,” she said, with a manner as casual as she could contrive, “let’s keep this Mister Higgins on board. He’s bound for New York, but in no particular hurry. We’ll get him there in about ten days.”

Mr. Blaise, who was a plethoric, fussy little man, adamant to all the world save his only child, 117 regarded her now in perplexity, his shrewd eyes a bit mischievous.

“I don’t imagine it’s to be the stereotyped romance, just because you dragged him out of the sea,” he said. “The chap has the makings of considerable of a man in him, and he’s good-looking enough to catch a girl’s fancy; but he’s not your sort. So, why?”

“Besides,” Josephine retorted, smiling, “Florence has the same right in him as treasure trove. That would make the romance too complicated.”

“Why?” Mr. Blaise repeated.

“I’ve never met anyone like him,” the girl explained, with truth, if not all the truth. “He’s unique. I want to study him. Such knowledge is broadening—better than books.”

“Bosh!” was the comment. “You mean, he’s just a freak to you, and you’d like to look him over a little longer. There’s no harm in that, if it amuses you. But don’t be silly about broadening yourself.” He regarded his daughter critically. “And leave out the deserts. They’re too broadening, if you like. You’re getting plump.”

Josephine accepted this meekly, in her satisfaction over having her way as to the new guest.

“I’ll go and invite him, right away,” she exclaimed. “He’ll liven us up.”

But her father wrinkled his brows in doubt.

“What about the effect on the young fellow, himself?” 118 he demanded. “It can’t do him any good, Josie. That sort of thing’s unsettling, you know.”

Josephine attempted no reply, as she went on her way. Her father could not see the flush that touched her cheeks.

Through such devious ways did it come to pass that the mountaineer entered a world of which he had never even dreamed. His own complete ignorance of social conditions prevented him from appreciating the marvel wrought by fate in his behalf. In the simplicity of his character, he accepted the change as a perfectly natural event in the world that he had set out to explore. It was this simplicity, which kept him from undue self-consciousness, that carried him safely through what must otherwise have been an ordeal. He accepted what had befallen thankfully, and sought to learn what he best might from the novel environment. His interest was conspicuously in others, not in himself. He was greedy of information, lavish in liking. By a benign miracle, there were no snobs in the yachting party, which included also two young men, and two of the owner’s age, besides Josephine’s aunt. This chaperon was a motherly soul, and, in sheer kindliness of heart did much to make the situation easy. The informality of the party, too, was a tremendous advantage to the young man, though he never guessed it. On the contrary, he accepted 119 things as they were enthusiastically, with never a thought of dismay. In flannels loaned him by the largest guest, which fitted too snugly, he presented an appearance so excellent that Mr. Blaise was moved to pinch his daughter’s ear, while reminding her of the stereotyped romance.

Such was the cause of Plutina’s wearisome waiting for the letter that did not come. Zeke found, to his distress, too late that an interval of a week or more must elapse before a letter posted in Bermuda could possibly reach the mountains. But, beyond that, there was nothing to disturb the girl who loved him. The heart of the lad amid the luxuries of life on the yacht was unchanged in its devotion. It was, indeed, as if he saw all things as a frame for her. He was forever thinking how Plutina would look here or there, in connection with this or the other. The gowns of the three women, were viewed critically in relation to the mountain girl. He would imagine her loveliness enhanced by the sheen of silk, by the films of lace, by the lusters of jewels. Josephine thought once when she appeared in a dainty evening frock, not too daring, that she had penetrated his armor of aloofness, for he blushed hotly as his eyes went to her neck, and his gaze fell. She was deceived. He remembered in that moment, how he had once kissed the soft whiteness of Plutina’s throat, where the homespun gown lay open. 120 Now, memory of the warm bliss of that kiss sent the blood racing and tingling.

That self-deception was as near as Josephine ever came to triumph.

Florence understood, to some extent, at least, the mood that influenced her friend. A feminine intuition inspired in her a like ambition to pierce this young savage’s reserve. Through her own feeling, she readily divined that of Josephine. Thus, the two became unconfessed allies in the employment of their wiles against an unsuspecting victim. It was, indeed, the lack of suspicion on his part that irritated them to the point of exasperation. He was so utterly innocent of their manoeuvers against his peace! Both of the girls were attractive beyond the average. Josephine, a plump blonde, ingenuous of manner, sophisticated, capricious, yet not spoiled, egotistic, but winsome, full of electric vitality; Florence, taller and darker, with an air more sedate, yet doubtless capable of deeper and more enduring emotions. Each possessed excellent features, and the fascinations of radiant health, sufficient culture, and the most exquisite refinements of personal detail. They deserved the humble admiration of any man. They expected tender adulation from most, and from most they received it. At the outset a certain impassivity on the part of this wild mountaineer excited their astonishment, then, quickly, 121 their dissatisfaction. They were moved to a caprice against his calm, against this indifference that was an affront. They had no wish to work him serious harm, but his disregard was intolerable. Since the heart of neither was engaged, there was no jealousy between them in the affair. Since each was secretly ashamed of her motives, there was no confidence between them.

Their failure, in the lazy days and evenings of voyaging and of rambling in the Bermudan islands, was undeniable. It was the more aggravating since the young man patently admired them. Even, his admiration was excessive, almost reverential, at times. Yet, it was altogether impersonal. They came eventually to know that this mountaineer regarded them with warm friendliness, with a lively gratitude, with a devoted respect, with a certain veneration. But that was all. No dart from their quiver of charms touched to the passionate heart of him—nor ever could. From whichever side the shafts were thrown, always they were shattered against a white shield, and fell harmless. That shield was Plutina.

One night, as the yacht neared New York, Josephine and Zeke sat together, watching the scud of clouds across the moon. The mountaineer spoke softly, after an interval of silence. 122

“The clouds is runnin’ thar jest as I’ve seen ’em lookin’ out across the valley from Stone Mounting—with Plutiny.” There was a caress in his voice.

Josephine checked an ejaculation of impatience. The savage was incorrigible—quite! Him, and his everlasting Plutina! Perverse curiosity overcame discretion. Perhaps, too, after all, he only needed guidance. She tried to believe, though vainly, that only shyness prevented him from improving an opportunity any other man would have coveted.

“Tell me,” she said softly, with a sympathetic lure in her tones, “is Plutina so very beautiful?”

The lure was effective. Zeke turned to her with the hazel eyes darkly luminous in the moonlight.

“Tiny’s beautiful,” he answered tenderly; and there was music now in the slow drawl. “I ’low she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“I’m afraid you’re prejudiced,” Josephine objected, with a disarming laugh. “Of course, you ought to think so, but, really you know, you haven’t quite seen all the beautiful women in the world. Now, have you?”

“All I need to,” was the confident assurance. “Why,” he continued with an apologetic smile for his boldness. “I done seen you-all, Miss Blaise, an’ 123 I reckon you-all are about as beautiful as a woman kin be—’ceptin’ Plutina.”

The tribute was potent from its very unexpectedness. It eased the chagrin from which vanity had suffered. Evidently, her charms were not disregarded. It was simply that this lover had given his heart, and that he was loyal. The girl sighed a little enviously at the realization. She knew too well that many, perhaps most, in her world were not loyal, even when their hearts were given. She wondered if, in truth, there awaited her the boon of a like faithfulness. Yet she persevered in her probing.

“Out in the world,” she said musingly, “where things are so different from up in your mountains, you may change. It may be you won’t want to go back, to the hills—to Plutina.”

A flush of wrath burned in Zeke’s cheeks, visible in the gloom.

“Hit ain’t fittin’ fer you-all to say no such thing, Miss Blaise. But I kin fergive ye, kase ye hain’t seen our mountings. They hain’t no other place more beautiful. Mister Sutton done told me so, an’ he’s been all over the hull world. An’, besides, hit’s home. A man what don’t love his home country better’n any other—why, mum, he’s jest a plain skunk.... An’ Plutiny, she’s the best part o’ 124 home. There hain’t no land so beautiful, nor no woman. No, mum, I sha’n’t change—never! I kain’t!”

And Josephine knew that it was so, and once again she sighed.