"Well;I only had an idea o'proposin'that you and me just took a look around that holler whar you thought you saw suthin'!"said Collinson tentatively.
"Nonsense,"said Key hurriedly."We really saw nothing--it was all a fancy;and Uncle **** was joking me because I said I thought Isaw a woman's face,"he added with a forced laugh.
Collinson glanced at him,half sadly."Oh!You were only funnin',then.I oughter guessed that.I oughter have knowed it from Uncle ****'s talk!"They rode for some moments in silence;Key preoccupied and feverish,and eager only to reach Skinner's.
Skinner was not only postmaster but "registrar"of the district,and the new discoverer did not feel entirely safe until he had put his formal notification and claims "on record."This was no publication of his actual secret,nor any indication of success,but was only a record that would in all probability remain unnoticed and unchallenged amidst the many other hopeful dreams of sanguine prospectors.But he was suddenly startled from his preoccupation.
"Ye said ye war straightenin'up yer pack just now,"said Collinson slowly.
"Yes!"said Key almost angrily,"and I was."
"Ye didn't stop to straighten it up down at the forks of the trail,did ye?""I may have,"said Key nervously."But why?""Ye won't mind my axin'ye another question,will ye?Ye ain't carryin'round with ye no woman's shoe?"Key felt the blood drop from his cheeks."What do you mean?"he stammered,scarcely daring to lift his conscious eyelids to his companion's glance.But when he did so he was amazed to find that Collinson's face was almost as much disturbed as his own.
"I know it ain't the square thing to ask ye,but this is how it is,"said Collinson hesitatingly."Ye see just down by the fork of the trail where you came I picked up a woman's shoe.It sorter got me!For I sez to myself,'Thar ain't no one bin by my shanty,comin'or goin',for weeks but you boys,and that shoe,from the looks of it,ain't bin there as many hours.'I knew there wasn't any wimin hereabouts.I reckoned it couldn't hev bin dropped by Uncle **** or that other man,for you would have seen it on the road.So I allowed it might have bin YOU.And yer it is."He slowly drew from his pocket--what Key was fully prepared to see--the mate of the slipper Key had in his saddle-bags!The fair fugitive had evidently lost them both.
But Key was better prepared now (perhaps this kind of dissimulation is progressive),and quickly alive to the necessity of throwing Collinson off this unexpected scent.And his companion's own suggestion was right to his hand,and,as it seemed,again quite providential!He laughed,with a quick color,which,however,appeared to help his lie,as he replied half hysterically,"You're right,old man,I own up,it's mine!It's d--d silly,I know--but then,we're all fools where women are concerned--and I wouldn't have lost that slipper for a mint of money."He held out his hand gayly,but Collinson retained the slipper while he gravely examined it.
"You wouldn't mind telling me where you mought hev got that?"he said meditatively.
"Of course I should mind,"said Key with a well-affected mingling of mirth and indignation."What are you thinking of,you old rascal?What do you take me for?"But Collinson did not laugh."You wouldn't mind givin'me the size and shape and general heft of her as wore that shoe?""Most decidedly I should do nothing of the kind!"said Key half impatiently."Enough,that it was given to me by a very pretty girl.There!that's all you will know.""GIVEN to you?"said Collinson,lifting his eyes.
"Yes,"returned Key sharply.
Collinson handed him the slipper gravely."I only asked you,"he said slowly,but with a certain quiet dignity which Key had never before seen in his face,"because thar was suthin'about the size,and shape,and fillin'out o'that shoe that kinder reminded me of some 'un;but that some 'un--her as mought hev stood up in that shoe--ain't o'that kind as would ever stand in the shoes of her as YOU know at all."The rebuke,if such were intended,lay quite as much in the utter ignoring of Key's airy gallantry and levity as in any conscious slur upon the fair fame of his invented Dulcinea.
Yet Key oddly felt a strong inclination to resent the aspersion as well as Collinson's gratuitous morality;and with a mean recollection of Uncle ****'s last evening's scandalous gossip,he said sarcastically,"And,of course,that some one YOU were thinking of was your lawful wife.""It war!"said Collinson gravely.
Perhaps it was something in Collinson's manner,or his own preoccupation,but he did not pursue the subject,and the conversation lagged.They were nearing,too,the outer edge of the present conflagration,and the smoke,lying low in the unburnt woods,or creeping like an actual exhalation of the soil,blinded them so that at times they lost the trail completely.At other times,from the intense heat,it seemed as if they were momentarily impinging upon the burning area,or were being caught in a closing circle.It was remarkable that with his sudden accession of fortune Key seemed to lose his usual frank and careless fearlessness,and impatiently questioned his companion's woodcraft.
There were intervals when he regretted his haste to reach Skinner's by this shorter cut,and began to bitterly attribute it to his desire to serve Collinson.Ah,yes!it would be fine indeed,if just as he were about to clutch the prize he should be sacrificed through the ignorance and stupidity of this heavy-handed moralist at his side!But it was not until,through that moralist's guidance,they climbed a steep acclivity to a second ridge,and were comparatively safe,that he began to feel ashamed of his surly silence or surlier interruptions.And Collinson,either through his unconquerable patience,or possibly in a fit of his usual uxorious abstraction,appeared to take no notice of it.