Their way home led past Cousin Bill’s store. Johnny sat on the bench beside the door. He was whittling and talking to old Noah Pennington.
“Hello, Johnny,” Jensie greeted. “When are we going back?”
“Any time you say. How about nine tomorrow morning?”
“Tha—that will be fine, Johnny. Won’t it?” The girl turned to Ballard.
“I—I—yes, I suppose so,” Ballard stammered.
“Will you come to my house or shall we pick you up at the rim where we dropped you last night?” Jensie asked cheerfully.
“All right. We’ll be going on down. Come and see me, Johnny.”
“See you at nine,” Johnny grinned happily.
“Leave it to the women,” Johnny murmured when they were out of ear-shot.
“Yes,” old Noah Pennington, who sat at his side, agreed. “Leave it to the women. Be a lot sorrier times in this here world if it weren’t fer the women folks.”
CHAPTER XIV WILD MEN, BABOONS, AND SOMETHING STRANGE
The shadows of night had fallen when the three wanderers, Jensie, Johnny, and Ballard in their car came to a gliding stop before the Blue Moon.
The door stood half open. A mellow glow of light shone at their feet as they hopped out. From within came the murmur of voices and low laughter.
“The old Blue Moon is still doing fine,” Johnny smiled happily. “Come on in and have a snack.”
No sooner had the door framed their faces than a voice shouted: “Here’s Old Kentucky! Kentucky and that mountain gal. Come on, Old Kentucky, give us a tune.”
At once the crowd, composed of all the team and many of their friends, was on its feet and cheering huskily.
Seizing his companions, Johnny pushed them to the front. Picking up Jensie as if she were a sack of sugar, he set her down on the counter, then thrust a banjo in her hands as he whispered, “Do your durndest. Nothing could be better than this.” She flashed him an understanding smile. Then, after motioning Ballard to a place by her side, she began thrumming the chords, and “Old Kentucky Home” came whispering through the room.
Greeted by abundant applause, the two young Kentuckians played and sang their way through a half score of melodious mountain tunes into the very hearts of their listeners.
Then, of a sudden, Jensie struck her banjo a thwack. She ran her fingers across the strings to begin “Roll, Jordan, Roll! Roll, Jordan, Roll! Oh! Oh! Oh! I want to go there, to hear old Jordan roll.”