"Like as not, ma'am," he said, cheerfully looking everywhere but in her
burning face. "The sun IS pow'ful hot at this time o' day; I felt it
myself comin' yer, and, though the damp of this timber kinder sets it
back, it's likely to come out ag'in. Ye can't check it no more than the
sap in that choked limb thar"--he pointed ostentatiously where a fallen
pine had been caught in the bent and twisted arm of another, but which
still put out a few green tassels beyond the point of impact. "Do you
live far from here, ma'am?" he added.
"Only as far as the first turning below the hill."
"I've got my buggy here, and I'm goin' that way, and I can jist set ye
down thar cool and comfortable. Ef," he continued, in the same assuring
tone, without waiting for a reply, "ye'll jist take a good grip of
my arm thar," curving his wrist and hand behind him like a shepherd's
crook, "I'll go first, and break away the brush for ye."
She obeyed mechanically, and they fared on through the thick ferns in
this fashion for some moments, he looking ahead, occasionally dropping
a word of caution or encouragement, but never glancing at her face.
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