He said he would get even with me;
but they all say that, and I paid no
attention to the threat. For a week he
was kept in the calaboose, and when I
passed the shanty just after he was
sent to the county-seat for trial, I
found it empty. The Malungian, too,
was gone. Within a fortnight the
mountaineer was in the door of the
shanty again. Having no accuser, he
had been discharged. He went back
to his work, and if he opened his lips
I never knew. Every day I saw him
at work, and he never failed to give
me a surly look. Every dusk I saw
him in his door-way, waiting, and I
could guess for what. It was easy to
believe that the stern purpose in his
face would make its way through
space and draw her to him again.
And she did come back one day. I
had just limped down the mountain
with a sprained ankle. A crowd of
women was gathered at the edge of
the woods, looking with all their eyes
to the shanty on the river-bank. The
girl stood in the door-way. The
mountaineer was coming back from work
with his face down.