The blacksmith
was surprised that this "likely mannered," distinguished-looking "city
man" should WALK eight miles when he could ride, and tried to dissuade
him, offering his own buggy. But he was still more surprised when
Demorest, laying aside his duster, took off his coat, and, slinging it
on his arm, prepared to set forth with the good-humored assurance that
he would do the distance in a couple of hours and get in in time for
supper. "I wouldn't be too sure of that," said the blacksmith grimly,
"or even of getting a room. They're a stuck-up lot over there, and they
ain't goin' to hump themselves over a chap who comes traipsin' along
the road like any tramp, with nary baggage." But Demorest laughingly
accepted the risk, and taking his stout stick in one hand, pressed a
gold coin into the blacksmith's palm, which was, however, declined
with such reddening promptness that Demorest as promptly reddened and
apologized. The habits of European travel had been still strong on him,
and he felt a slight patriotic thrill as he said, with a grave smile,
"Thank you, then; and thank you still more for reminding me that I am
among my own 'people,'" and stepped lightly out into the road.
The air was still deliciously cool, but warmer currents from the heated
pines began to alternate with the wind from the summit. He found himself
sometimes walking through a stratum of hot air which seemed to exhale
from the wood itself, while his head and breast were swept by the
mountain breeze.
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