CHAPTER XXVII

Allston was facing the door when the two figures came out of the road. He sprang to his feet reaching for his automatic. Wilmer was bending over the fire.

“What is it, Ned?” she asked, without turning.

“I’m going outside a moment. Wait here,” he ordered.

Before she grasped the full meaning of his words, he was across the threshold and in the open, his gun half-raised, his eyes full upon the eyes of Bud Childers.

Roxie stared as at one risen from the dead. She stood transfixed. Had it not been for the bandaged head which gave Allston his one touch of reality, she would not have been able to breathe As it was she breathed deeply and slowly and softly as before an apparition which might vanish at a sound. And her hand, like a child’s, sought Bud’s hand. She gripped it with all her might.

Then another figure appeared at the door--the figure of a woman. There was reality enough about Wilmer Howe. After one glance she rushed out and threw herself in front of Allston, reaching up her white arms to his shoulders, shielding him with her body. Very gently Allston tried to turn her one side, but with a moaning cry she clung.

“No! No! No!” she choked.

Roxie saw Allston’s half-raised arm lower and saw it sweep around this woman.

It was then she had to hold herself steady; then that she had to face the truth however much it hurt. She, after all, was not the Princess of the fairy story, but this other. The book over which she had dreamed was roughly snatched out of her hands, and the covers closed before her eyes--the story unfinished. And yet--and yet perhaps that was the way with fairy stories. Perhaps it was just so they were able to live on forever. They stood for dreams--unfinished dreams. The Prince himself was smiling. She winced at that.

Bud felt the soft fingers on his hand relaxing. It was not till then that he removed his eyes from Allston. Suddenly this other man did not matter. Once again he was alone with Roxie--alone with Roxie in the hills. And the mountains roundabout him, instead of closing in, stood back to give him room--room for his big full heart. He was breathing the air of a free man once more. The trees were his brothers. The birds were singing--golden notes in an air filled with sifted fine gold. And a saucy little red squirrel chattered excitedly in a tree overhead.

Bud stooped and swept the girl into his long arms. Against her feeble protests, he held her tight.

And lo! Roxie found another story-book open before her eyes.

* * * * *

Whatever took place up there in that shack by Big Laurel Cove was never satisfactorily explained either to the local gossips or the local authorities.

As Daddie Ingram expressed it to the group which gathered at the post-office:

“Thar’s suthin’ purty durned quar ’bout the hull bisness.”

Perhaps there was. Both Wilmer Howe and Roxie might have agreed with him on that, and there were certain details that neither Bud nor Allston ever fully understood. It was queer business, but as far as those most immediately involved were concerned an eminently satisfactory business. The wedding of Bud and Roxie which took place a week later at the Howe bungalow seemed to be proof of this. That was a memorable event in the neighborhood. Every one was invited and every one came and every one appeared to be happy.

“But,” as Daddie Ingram said later, “’co’se Bud Childers is Bud Childers an’ thar ain’ no gittin’ round thet. Roxie’ll hev to watch her step livin’ ’long o’ him.”

Daddie was a wise old owl and his opinion carried weight. It was rather too bad, then, that he could not have been present eight months later when Allston and his wife climbed the mountain road to visit Bud and Roxie. Together they took the same trail that separately each had taken once before--along the sandy road skirting the valley and up through the dark forest. If here where the woods smell damp Wilmer clung to Allston’s arm, it is nobody’s business. Once through the leafy tunnel and on the open ridge looking down upon the sunlit valley, Wilmer paused and, placing her hands upon her husband’s shoulder, looked straight into his blue eyes and whispered:

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For Thou art with me.”

Reverently he kissed her white forehead.

So they went on into the dragon country, fearing nothing, their hearts singing. As they approached the clearing they heard the sound of a hammer and found Bud busy upon a substantial addition to the cabin--a generous front porch made of planed boards. He stepped forward cordially to greet them.

“Roxie’s in thar,” he said with a jerk of his thumb towards the interior. “An’ she’ll shore be mighty proud ter see yuh.”

As the two approached the door he stood aside to allow them to pass. He himself stopped a moment before a rather conspicuous doormat bearing the word “Welcome.” Rather sheepishly he lagged behind to wipe his heavy boots clean of all dirt.

“Roxie’s kinder fussy ’bout mud,” he explained.

THE END

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.