VI

The cabin was unlighted when Jason came in sight of it and
apprehension straightway seized him; so that he broke into a run,
but stopped at the gate and crept slowly to the porch and almost
on tiptoe opened the door. The fire was low, but the look of
things was unchanged, and on the kitchen table he saw his cold
supper laid for him. His mother had maybe gone over the ridge for
some reason to stay all night, so he gobbled his food hastily and,
still uneasy, put forth for Mavis's cabin over the hill. That
cabin, too, was dark and deserted, and he knew now what had
happened--that blast of the horn was a summons to a dance
somewhere, and his mother and Steve had answered and taken Mavis
with them; so the boy sat down on the porch, alone with the night
and the big still dark shapes around him. It would not be very
pleasant for him to follow them--people would tease him and ask
him troublesome questions. But where was the dance, and had they
gone to it after all? He rose and went swiftly down the creek. At
the mouth of it a light shone through the darkness, and from it a
quavering hymn trembled on the still air. A moment later Jason
stood on the threshold of an open door and an old couple at the
fireplace lifted welcoming eyes.

"Uncle Lige, do you know whar my mammy is?"

The old man's eyes took on a troubled look, but the old woman
answered readily: