The girl did not appear in the least alarmed. Instead of that, she laughed, and that laugh was like the ripple of falling water.
"Wal, now you're talkin'!" she cried, with something like a flash of admiration. "Mebbe you-uns has got some backbone arter all. I like backbone."
"I have not looked at mine for so long that I am not sure what condition it is in, but I know I have one."
"An' muscle?"
"A little."
"Then move this rock har that hez caught my foot an' holds it. That's what I wanted o' you-uns."
She lifted her skirt a bit, and, for the first time, they saw that her ankle had been caught between two large rocks, where she was held fast.
"Kinder slomped in thar when I war fishin'," she explained, "an' ther big rock dropped over thar an' cotched me fast when I tried ter pull out. That war nigh two hour ago, 'cordin' ter ther sun."
"And you have been standing like that ever since?" cried Frank, in dismay. "Lively, Barney—get hold here! Great Scott! we must have her out of that in a hurry!"
"Thot's phwat we will, ur we'll turrun th' ould mountain over!" shouted the Irish lad, as he flew to the aid of his friend.
The girl looked surprised and pleased, and then she said:
"You-uns ain't goin' ter move that rock so easy, fer it's hefty."
"But your ankle—it must have crushed your ankle."
"I 'low not. Ye see it couldn't pinch harder ef it tried, fer them rocks ain't built so they kin git nigher together; but it's jest made a reg'ler trap so I can't pull my foot out."
It was no easy thing for the boys to get hold of the rock in a way to exert their strength, but they finally succeeded, and then Frank gave the word, and they strained to move it. It started reluctantly, as if loath to give up its fair captive, but they moved it more and more, and she was able to draw her foot out. Then, when she was free, they let go, and the rock fell back with a grating crash against the other.
"You-uns have done purty fair fer boys," said the girl, with a saucy twinkle in her brown eyes. "S'pose I'll have ter thank ye, fer I mought a stood har consider'bul longer ef 'tadn't bin fer ye. Who be ye, anyhow? an' whar be ye goin'?"
Frank introduced himself, and then presented Barney, after which he explained how they happened to be in the Great Smoky Mountains.
She watched him closely as he spoke, noting every expression, as if a sudden suspicion had come upon her, and she was trying to settle a doubt in her mind.
When Frank had finished, the girl said:
"Never heard o' two boys from ther big cities 'way off yander comin' har ter tromp through ther maountings jest fer ther fun o' seein' ther scenery an' ther folks. I s'pose we're kinder curi's 'pearin' critters ter city folks, an' you-uns may be har ter cotch one o' us an' put us in a cage fer exhibition."
She uttered the words in a way that brought a flush to Frank's cheeks, and he hastened to protest, halting in confusion when he tried to speak her name, which he did not know as yet.
A ripple of sunshine seemed to break over her face, and she laughed outright, swiftly saying:
"Don't you-uns mind me. I'm p'izen rough, but I don't mean half I say. I kin see you is honest an' squar, though somebody else mought think by yer way that ye warn't. My name's Kate Kenyon, an' I live down toward ther cove. I don't feel like fishin' arter this, an' ef you-uns is goin' that way, I'll go 'long with ye."
She picked up her pole, hooked up the line, and prepared to accompany them.
They were pleased to have her as a companion. Indeed, Frank was more than pleased, for he saw in this girl a singular character. Illiterate though she seemed, she was pretty, vivacious, and so bright that it was plain education and refinement would make her most fascinating and brilliant.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
FRANK AND KATE
The boys did not get to Cranston's Cove that night, for Kate Kenyon invited them to stop and take supper at her home, and they did so.
Kate's home was much like the rough cabins of other mountain folks, except that flowering vines had been trained to run up the sides and over the door, while two large bushes were loaded with roses in front of the house.
Kate's mother was in the doorway as they approached. She was a tall, angular woman, with a stolid, expressionless face.
"Har, mammy, is some fellers I brung ter see ye," said this girl. "This un is Mr. Merriwell, an' that un is Mr. Mulloy."
The boys lifted their hats, and bowed to the woman as if she were a society queen. She nodded and stared.
"What be you-uns doin' 'round these parts?" she asked, pointedly.
Frank explained, seeing a look of suspicion and distrust deepening in her face as he spoke.
"Huah!" she grunted, when he had finished. "An' what do you-uns want o' me?"
"Your daughter invited us to call and take supper," said Frank, coolly.
"I ain't uster cookin' flip-flaps fer city chaps, an' I don't b'lieve you kin eat the kind o' fodder we-uns is uster."
The boys hastened to assure her that they would be delighted to eat the plainest of food, and their eagerness brought a merry laugh from the lips of the girl.
"You-uns is consid'ble amusin'," she said. "You is powerful perlite. I asked 'em to come, mammy. It's no more'n fair pay fer what they done fer me."
Then she explained how she had been caught and held by the rocks, and how the boys had seen her from the mountain road and come to her rescue.
The mother's face did not soften a bit as she listened, but, when Kate had finished, she said:
"They're yore comp'ny. Ask 'em in."
So the boys were asked into the cabin, and Kate herself prepared supper.
It was a plain meal, but Frank noticed that everything looked neat and clean about the house, and both lads relished the coarse food. Indeed, Barney afterward declared that the corn bread was better than the finest cake he had ever tasted.
Frank was particularly happy at the table, and the merry stories he told kept Kate laughing, and, once or twice, brought a grim smile to the face of the woman.
After supper they went out in front of the cabin, where they could look up at the wild mass of mountains, the peaks of which were illumined by the rays of the setting sun.
Mrs. Kenyon filled and lighted a cob pipe. She sat and puffed away, staring straight ahead in a blank manner.
Just how it happened Frank himself could not have told, but Barney fell to talking to the woman in his whimsical way, while Frank and Kate wandered away a short distance, and sat on some stones which had been arranged as a bench in a little nook near Lost Creek. From this position they could hear Barney's rich brogue and jolly laugh as he recounted some amusing yarn, and, when the wind was right, a smell of the black pipe would be wafted to them.
"Do you know," said Frank, "this spot is so wild and picturesque that it fascinates me. I should like to stop here two or three days and rest."
"Better not," said the girl, shortly.
"Why?" asked the boy, in surprise.
"Wal, it mought not be healthy."
"What do you mean?"
"You might be tooken fer revenue."
"For revenue? I do not understand."
"I wonder ef you air so ignerent, or be you jest