The Gillespies arrived at their simpler log cabin
half an hour later than the Brailes at theirs.
It was on the border of the settlement, and beyond
it for a mile there was nothing but woods, walnut and
chestnut and hickory, not growing thickly as the primeval
forest grew to the northward along the lake, but standing
openly about in the pleasant park-like freedom of
the woods-pastures of that gentler latitude. Beyond
the wide stretch of trees and meadow lands, the cornfields
and tobacco patches opened to the sky again.
On their farther border stood a new log cabin, defined
by its fresh barked logs in the hovering dark.
Gillespie pulled the leatherwood latch-string which
lifted the catch of his door, and pushed it open.
“Go in, Jane,” he said to his daughter,
and the girl vanished slimly through, with a glance
over her shoulder at Dylks where he stood aloof a
few steps from her father.
Gillespie turned to his guest. “Did you
see her?” he asked.
“Yes, I walked over to her house this morning.”
“Did any one see you?”
“No. Her man was away.”
Gillespie turned with an effect of helplessness, and
looked down at the wood-pile where he stood.
“I don’t know,” he said, “what
keeps me from spliting your head open with that ax.”
“I do,” Dylks said.
“Man!” the old man threatened, “Don’t
go too far.”
“It wasn’t the fear of God which you pretend
is in your heart, but the fear of man.”
Dylks added with a vulgar drop from the solemn words,
“You would hang for it. I haven’t
put myself in your power without counting all the
costs to both of us.”
Gillespie waved his answer off with an impatient hand.
“Did she know you?”
“Why not? It hasn’t been so long.
I haven’t changed so much. I wear my hair
differently, and I dress better since I’ve been
in Philadelphia. She knew me in a minute as well
as I knew her. I didn’t ask for her present
husband; I thought one at a time was enough.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing—first. I might have
told her she had been in a hurry. But if she
don’t bother me, I won’t her. We got
as far as that. And I reckon she won’t,
but I thought we’d better have a clear understanding,
and she knows now it’s bigamy in her case, and
bigamy’s a penitentiary offense. I made
that clear. And now see here, David: I’m
going to stay here in this settlement, and I don’t
want any trouble from you, no matter what you think
of my doings, past, present, or future. I don’t
want you to say anything, or look anything.
Don’t you let on, even to that girl of yours,
that you ever saw me before in your life. If you
do, you’ll wish you had split my head
open with that ax. But I’m not afraid; I’ve
got you safe, and I’ve got your sister safe.”
Gillespie groaned. Then he said desperately,
“Listen here, Joseph Dylks! I know what
you’re after, here, because you always was:
other people’s money. I’ve got three
hundred dollars saved up since I paid off the mortgage.
If you’ll take it and go—”
