HARDWOOD RECORD 



17 



A DRAMATIC WOODS STORY 



Idah McGlone Gibson 



WHEN SORREL-TOP MADE GOOD 



SUPPLEMENT DRAWING 



....KV.... 



Thomas J. Nicboll 



"Who's the strange kid out there, 

 Barnc.v .' ' ' 



' ' Don 't know, I "ni sure, ' ' answered the 

 cook, as he deftly pulled the big pan of 

 light bread out of the oven. " He 's been 

 hanging 'round all day. Never saw him be- 

 fore — must be from over the other side of 

 the ridge. ' ' 



Just then the boy outside seemed to take 

 a sudden resolution, evidenced by the 

 straightening up of the shambling figure. 

 That it was not easy for him to do the 

 thing he intended was made clear by the 

 furtive look he east toward the cook shanty, 

 as he pulled off his old slouch hat and 

 nervously wiped his forehead with the sleeve 

 of his ragged coat. 



The sun was just passing below the moun- 

 tain top and its last rays played about the 

 heail of tlie lad, and turned its thatch to 

 burnished gold. Every hair seemed to fairly 

 leap out of the lengthening shadows and he 

 stood with his face encircled in a nimbus of 

 startling brilliancy. 



'"' I '11 be damned if he ain 't a red-head, ' ' 

 chuckled Jim, the boss. " It 's a Eex cross- 

 cut to a buck saw that he didn't come by 

 that hair honestly. His daddy never came 

 from ' over the ridge '. No one in these 

 )nountains ever sported red hair and had a 

 ' sager ' for a father. ' ' 



Big Jim stepped through the low door of 

 the shack and, in a cheerful tone that might 

 have been heard a mile, inquired, "Hello, 

 Sorrel-top, what do you want ? ' ' 



The boy put his hat on his head quickly 

 and pulled it down over the offending hair 

 while a surge of color rushed over his 

 freckled face. 



"Yo ah the boss, I reckon?" The sentence 

 was made a question by. its rising inflection, 

 and the lad's nervously hopeful attitude. 



"That's what they call me at Camp Six, 

 kid. ' ' 



' ' Kin I see yuh f oh a minute, suh ? I 've 

 come foil yuh to teck me on. ' ' 



"So you want a job, hey?" said the 

 woods boss with a smile. ' ' Don 't you know 

 you 're not heavy enough to fell timber or 

 load logs ? Why, kid, that 's a man 's work, ' ' 

 and the autocrat of Camp Six unconsciously 

 drew himself up to his full six-feet-three and 

 filled out his brawny chest, making the boy 

 beside him look smaller and thinner than 

 ever. 



"Can't yuh jus' fin' somethin' I kin do? 

 I 'm pow 'f ul willin '. Maw says I 'm more 

 'count than most boys, ca'se I'm alius 

 willin '. ' ' 



"But you oughtn't to be workin' yet, my 

 lad. Wliere 's your father ? Tell him to 

 come over and I '11 give him a job, and you 

 stay round the house and help your ma." 



' ' T hain 't got no paw, suh, ' ' answered the 



boy, and again the surge of red went over 

 his face. ' ' Yuh see maw, she needs meat 

 and steam-jeans and coffee pow'ful bad, 

 and I reckon 1 must done get hit foh her. 

 So I aim to get work or leave yere, one." 



Big Jim looked with a new interest into 

 the youthful face that was set with de- 

 termination to get "jeans and coffee for 

 maw," as he said, "You come in and get 

 some grub anyway, and I guess I '11 find 

 something for you to do in the morning. ' ' 



The boy followed the big Irishman into 

 the cook house and then and there ' ' Sorrel- 

 top ' ' became one of the outfit of Camp Six. 



The next morning he was made the 

 ' ' woods Jimmy ' ' and at noon he started 

 up the cove with the men's victuals. As 

 he came along the path beside the logging 

 road it seemed as though the lad 's face 

 had changed in ^he night. Even in the 

 noonday sun much of the indecision of the 

 mountain type had gone from it. His brows 

 had straightened across his forehead and his 

 chin looked as though it had squared a bit. 

 His shoulders did not bend forward, instead 

 they easily bore the burden of food which 

 the half barrel strapped to his back con- 

 tained. His arms stretched down with the 

 weight of the well-filled buckets of beans 

 and potatoes, but his head was up and his old 

 slouch hat was pushed back on his red hair. 

 His whole attitude spoke of added self- 

 respect. 



"There is that kid now," said one of 

 tlie men wlio were sitting about waiting for 

 their dinner. "Do you know him, Dave? 

 He allows he came from over the ridge, but 

 a red-headed sager beats my time! " 



The lank form of the man addressed raised 

 from where it had been stretched at full 

 length on the ground, and he shaded his 

 eyes as he looked at the lad coming so con- 

 fidently towards them. Then he spat witli 

 deliberate aim and forever sullied the beauti- 

 ful white blossom of the wild cucumber at 

 a little distance from him, before he 

 answered, "Yes, I know him; he's Mary 

 Ellen's young 'un. His paw was a red-headed 

 Irishman what got mixed up in a feud. 

 She's been mightly uppish ever since, and 

 keeps to herself, but if Jim's named the 

 young 'un Sorrel-top hit's a good thing, foh 

 he hain't got no name what belongs to him." 



The tote-boy was near enough to hear the 

 last words, and he dropped his load with 

 a thud. ' ' Now, yuh Dave Lumley, look-a- 

 heah! Don't yuh say a word about my 

 maw! If you do I'll fight yuh," and then 

 his voice cracked with youth and rage as he 

 burst into tears. 



"My, but yuh 're a o'nery cuss," answered 

 the man with a sneer, "I don't fuss with 

 weepin ' young 'uns. I don't mean nothin' 

 :ibout yuh maw no how, ' cept what every- 



body knows. Wait till yuh kin make good 

 'fore yuh git to fussin'." 



The boy started for the man blindly, but 

 was caught in the arms of Big Jim. 



"See here, Lumley, if ever I hear another 

 damned word of this again, I'll beat hell 

 out of your rotten hide. Get this grub into 

 you quick and go to work, all of you; we've 

 got to get a train loaded before supper. 

 Here, kid, I 've broke my axe helve ; see if 

 you can fix it. ' ' 



"1 don't min' yuh callin' me Sorrel-top, 

 Mr. Johnson," said the boy. "Yuh see, 

 suh, hit 's all so. My daddy was red-headed — 

 and he was Irish — and he was killed 'fore 

 the preacher-man got 'round to marry him 

 to my maw. And my maw she had to bring 

 me up. She's glad I'm a boy, though, foh 

 she says as how this county is all right foh 

 men, but hit's hell for a woman who's man 

 gets killed 'fore the preacher-man comes 

 'round. " 



"Don't you mind 'em, sonny," said the 

 boss. ' ' Y'ou stick to me and I '11 see 3'ou 

 through. ' ' 



"Yes, suh, I'll stick to yuh; I'll stick 

 to yuh — ca'se yuh've been right good to me 

 and my maw," said the boy earnestly. He 

 drew nearer his friend, who placed his hand 

 almost caressingly on the shock of red hair. 



Big Jim's word was law in Camp Six, and 

 there was no more rough joking of the boy 

 about his peculiarly colored hair or his 

 chivalrous love of his mother, and the Lum- 

 ley incident was quite forgotten. Indeed, 

 so ready was Sorrel-top with his help, and so 

 wide his smile of good nature that everyone 

 in camp came to have a sneaking fondness 

 for him. 



The woods work went on with its usual 

 monotony, and the foreman was glorying in 

 the fact that the outfit of Camp Six would 

 turn in at the mill a bigger cut than any 

 otlier crew on the job. Late in the fall 

 lie was working his men and equipment to 

 the last ounce of energy. The timber was 

 coming from the upper end of the cove, where 

 the spur was laid on better than a ten per- 

 cent grade. One afternoon when the great 

 stoaui log loader was starting on the last 

 car, the engineer of the Shay gave the 

 whistle a little toot and yelled, "I'm going 

 down for water. ' ' 



"Get back in a hurry," called out the 

 boss, ' ' for there 's a storm coming up. Now- 

 then you, Lumley, get a move on you and 

 sec that all the brakes are set, and 'scotch' 

 the front trucks; if these seven cars and that 

 loader turn loose it means seven thousand 

 ,.( > 'rs of equipment gone to hell!" 



The foreman was so busy finishing out his 

 load that he did not notice that after block- 

 ing the wheels Lumley had forgotten all 

 about the brakes. 



