Now they could see the sun casting long mountain shadows over the valley far below. At their side rested six red squirrels and one big fat striped coon. Yes, it had been glorious. Garbed in her knickers and russet red sweater, the girl seemed a part of it all.
“Listen!” Ballard exclaimed quite suddenly. “Bees!”
Jensie listened but heard nothing. The sharp-eared boy was not long in pointing out a huge, hollow chestnut tree. Some thirty feet from the ground Jensie caught sight of a faint, wavering line.
“It’s a bee tree!” Ballard was excited. “A big swarm. Hundred pounds of honey, mebby two hundred. Monday I’ll come up and cut it down.”
“Monday, Ballard?” There was a power of suggestion in the girl’s tone.
Ballard made no reply. His face, as he looked away at the hills was a study.
“Ballard,” the girl’s voice was low and husky, “we’ve been to school together all our lives. We belong to the mountains, you and I. And because we belong, we have to do all we can for the mountains.
“Yesterday, I saw the coach.” Ballard shifted uneasily. “I asked if he’d take you back on the team. He said, ‘Ballard’s never been off the team.’”
The girl paused. Ballard’s hand clutched at the log. His lips moved. He did not speak.
“The coach said,” Jensie went on after a time, “that he understood the code of the mountains. He’s lived down here. But he says the code of the mountains is not the code of Hillcrest. He said that people who call other folks vile names don’t have to be killed for it. In time they kill themselves. They get to talking out real loud and then they lose all their friends. After that they may not be dead but they might as well be.”
Once again the girl paused. The shadows in the valley had grown longer. All the meadow lands were in the shadows now.
“Ballard,” she began again, “we mountain folks can’t be quitters. I quit once. Daddy sent me away to school. I couldn’t take it. I came home. I—I’ve always been sorry for that.
“But you, Ballard,” she touched his hand, “you are a boy. Boys are strong, you can’t quit. It’s for the mountains, Ballard, and for your future, all the glorious, golden days that lie ahead.
“I—I think we better go down now.” She took up her gun. The big red hound sprang to his feet. They were off.