"Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm Cora McB----" She stopped--she recalled in a flash the part her
husband had played in his former capture and trial. "I'm Cora Allen,"
she corrected. Then she waited, her wits in chaos. She was fighting
desperately to bring order out of that chaos.
"What you doin' up here?"
"I started for Millington, over the mountain. I lost my way."
"Why didn't you go by the road?"
"It's further."
"That's a lie! It ain't. And don't lie to me, or I'll kill you!"
"Who are you?" she heard herself asking. "And why are you acting
this way with me?"
The man leaned suddenly forward.
"You mean to tell me you don't know?"
"A lumberjack, maybe, who's lost his way like myself?"
His expression changed abruptly.
"What you luggin' _this_ for?" He indicated the revolver.
"For protection."
"From what?"
"Wild things."
"There ain't no wild things in these mountains this time o' year;
they're snowed up, and you know it."
"I just felt safer to have it along."
"To protect you from men-folks, maybe?"
"There are no men in these mountains I'm afraid of!" She made the
declaration with pathetic bravado.
His eyes narrowed.
"I think I better kill you," he decided.
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