She had "been out to look for the cow," and got in only just before they left, still clad in her yesterday's finery; but it was wet and bedraggled with the soaking dew.When they were gone she sat down in the door, limp and dejected.
More than once during the morning the girl rose and started down the path as if she would follow them and see the company set out on its march, but each time she came back and sat down again in the door, remaining there for a good while as if in thought.
Once she went over almost to Mrs.Stanley's, then turned back and sat down again.
So the morning passed, and the first thing she knew, her father and mother had returned.The company had started.They were to march to the bridge that night.She heard them talking over the appearance that they had made;the speech of the captain; the cheers that went up as they marched off --the enthusiasm of the crowd.Her father was in much excitement.
Suddenly she seized her sun-bonnet and slipped out of the house and across the clearing, and the next instant she was flying down the path through the pines.She knew the road they had taken, and a path that would strike it several miles lower down.She ran like a deer, up hill and down, availing herself of every short cut, until, about an hour after she started, she came out on the road.
Fortunately for her, the delays incident to getting any body of new troops on the march had detained the company, and a moment's inspection of the road showed her that they had not yet passed.Clambering up a bank, she concealed herself and lay down.In a few moments she heard the noise they made in the distance, and she was still panting from her haste when they came along, the soldiers marching in order, as if still on parade, and a considerable company of friends attending them.Not a man, however, dreamed that, flat on her face in the bushes, lay a girl peering down at them with her breath held, but with a heart which beat so loud to her own ears that she felt they must hear it.Least of all did Darby Stanley, marching erect and tall in front, for all the sore heart in his bosom, know that her eyes were on him as long as she could see him.
When Vashti brought up the cow that night it was later than usual.
It perhaps was fortunate for her that the change made by the absence of the boys prevented any questioning.After all the excitement her mother was in a fit of despondency.Her father sat in the door looking straight before him, as silent as the pine on which his vacant gaze was fixed.Even when the little cooking they had was through with and his supper was offered him, he never spoke.
He ate in silence and then took his seat again.Even Mrs.Mills's complaining about the cow straying so far brought no word from him any more than from Vashti.He sat silent as before, his long legs stretched out toward the fire.The glow of the embers fell on the rough, thin face and lit it up, bringing out the features and making them suddenly clear-cut and strong.It might have been only the fire, but there seemed the glow of something more, and the eyes burnt back under the shaggy brows.The two women likewise were silent, the elder now and then casting a glance at her husband.She offered him his pipe, but he said nothing, and silence fell as before.
Presently she could stand it no longer."I de-clar, Vashti," she said, "I believe your pappy takes it most harder than I does."The girl made some answer about the boys.It was hardly intended for him to hear, but he rose suddenly, and walking to the door, took down from the two dogwood forks above it his old, long, single-barrelled gun, and turning to his wife said, "Git me my coat, old woman; by Gawd, I'm a-gwine." The two women were both on their feet in a second.Their faces were white and their hands were clenched under the sudden stress, their breath came fast.The older woman was the first to speak.
"What in the worl' ken you do, Cove Mills, ole an' puny as you is, an' got the rheumatiz all the time, too?""I ken pint a gun," said the old man, doggedly, "an' I'm a-gwine.""An' what in the worl' is a-goin' to become of us, an' that cow got to runnin' away so, I'm afeared all the time she'll git in the mash?"Her tone was querulous, but it was not positive, and when her husband said again, "I'm a-gwine," she said no more, and all the time she was getting together the few things which Cove would take.
As for Vashti, she seemed suddenly revivified; she moved about with a new step, swift, supple, silent, her head up, a new light in her face, and her eyes, as they turned now and then on her father, filled with a new fire.She did not talk much."I'll a-teck care o' us all,"she said once; and once again, when her mother gave something like a moan, she supported her with a word about "the only ones as gives three from one family." It was a word in season, for the mother caught the spirit, and a moment later declared, with a new tone in her voice, that that was better than Mrs.Stanley, and still they were better off than she, for they still had two left to help each other, while she had not a soul.
"I'll teck care o' us all," repeated the girl once more.
It was only a few things that Cove Mills took with him that morning, when he set out in the darkness to overtake the company before they should break camp -- hardly his old game-bag half full;for the equipment of the boys had stripped the little cabin of everything that could be of use.He might only have seemed to be going hunting, as he slung down the path with his old long-barrelled gun in his hand and his game-bag over his shoulder, and disappeared in the darkness from the eyes of the two women standing in the cabin door.
