CRIMSON MOUNTAIN Read Free Page B

his head alertly.
    “Listen! There’s that sound again! I thought I heard the voice of one of Hunsicker’s men. There’ll be more animals coming or I’ll miss my guess. You don’t mind if I go some, do you? I think we maybe can beat ’em to it. We’d better get by before they start out from the next farm.”
    His face set grimly. The girl cast a frightened glance at him, gripping the cushion of the seat tensely, her heart beating wildly again.
    They fairly flew up the long hill, bordered on the one hand now by a rough wall of fieldstone, piled up without cement, and on the other hand by a deep gully. She could see a wooden gate ahead flanked by a great red barn so weathered that it blended with the autumn trees standing around it, and out of its wide door were coming more steers! Laurel caught her breath involuntarily, and Pilgrim turned and flashed a quick, reassuring smile as they flew on.
    “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re going to make it. They haven’t started yet. I’ll take care of you.”
    There was something about his quiet assurance that calmed her fears.
    As they rushed past the old wooden gate now, Laurel could see the group of animals coming down toward the road from the old red barn. Though they were moving in a fairly quiet and orderly mass, the sight of their brown backs, their woolly brown heads, topped by that terrifying fringe of horns, was anything but comforting.
    As they swept past the gate and onward, Pilgrim turned toward her.
    “We’re all right now,” he said gently. “We’ve passed their gate, and they are going the other way, so they can’t catch up with us. There’s only one more farm to pass, and we’ll likely be able to miss any there. It might even be that they won’t be sending any cattle down. They are not very successful cattle raisers. But anyway, we’ll get ahead of them, I’m sure.”
    So silently they drove on, rushing over the rough cart road.
    And then they came in sight of another little old farmhouse set almost sullenly back from the road. But there were no animals in sight. There wasn’t even a dog around nor any chickens.
    Laurel relaxed and sat back more comfortably.
    Pilgrim watched her furtively.
    “You’re not frightened anymore,” he said in a satisfied tone. “We’ve passed all the farms now. Those last people must have moved away or died or something. And now it won’t be far to a garage where we can send someone back for your car. But look around. Isn’t this a lovely spot? I always liked it here.”
    They had reached the top of the hill and were passing through the woods. Laurel exclaimed in delight over the beauty of the way. Pilgrim watched her as her face lit up at each new turn.
    “There’s a thrush!” she said joyfully. “There isn’t any birdsong quite like that, is there? And I’ve been away from them so long they sound just wonderful to me.”
    “Yes,” said Pilgrim a bit sadly. He was thinking that the last time he remembered hearing the thrushes sing was while they were burying his grandfather, the grandfather with whom he had lived so long and whom he had known so little.
    He gave another furtive look at the girl beside him. Suddenly he spoke. “Where have I seen you before? Did you ever live in Carrollton?”
    Her face clouded sadly. “Yes,” she said, “I lived there when I was a little girl.”
    He looked at her sharply. “I see,” he said. “And I’ve seen you as a little girl, going about the town, or perhaps in school. And your eyes have stayed the same. It’s your eyes that made me think I had seen you before.” He looked at her gravely and shook his head. “No, I’m too old for that. I must have finished high school before you entered, or at least in your first year. I was working in a filling station at least part-time, long before you were in high school, I guess. Who are you, anyway? I’m sure I’ve seen you, though I may not have known your name. It couldn’t possibly be Sheridan, could