The girl stepped forward, and held the weapon finger on trigger, close
to her cousin's chest.
"Ye lies, Tam'rack," she said, in a very low and steady voice--a voice
that could not be mistaken, a voice relentlessly resolute and purposeful.
"Ye lies like ye always lies. Yore heart's black an' dirty. Ye're a
murderer an' a coward. Samson's a-comin' back ter me.... I'm a-goin'
ter be Samson's wife." The tensity of her earnestness might have told a
subtler psychologist than Tamarack that she was endeavoring to convince
herself. "He hain't never run away. He's hyar in this room right now."
The mountaineer started, and cast an apprehensive glance about him. The
girl laughed, with a deeply bitter note, then she went on: "Oh, you can't see him, Tam'rack. Ye mout hunt all night, but wharever
I be, Samson's thar, too. I hain't nothin' but a part of Samson--an'
I'm mighty nigh ter killin' ye this minute--he'd do hit, I reckon."
"Come on now, Sally," urged the man, ingratiatingly. He was thoroughly
cowed, seeking compromise. A fool woman with a gun: every one knew it
was a dangerous combination, and, except for himself, no South had ever
been a coward. He knew a certain glitter in their eyes. He knew it was
apt to presage death, and this girl, trembling in her knees but holding
that muzzle against his chest so unwaveringly, as steady as granite,
had it in her pupils. Her voice held an inexorable monotony suggestive
of tolling bells. She was not the Sally he had known before, but a new
Sally, acting under a quiet sort of exaltation, capable of anything. He
knew that, should she shoot him dead there in her house, no man who
knew them both would blame her. His life depended on strategy. "Come
on, Sally," he whined, as his face grew ashen. "I didn't aim ter make
ye mad. I jest lost my head, an' made love ter ye. Hit hain't no sin
ter kiss a feller's own cousin." He was edging toward the door.
"Stand where ye're at," ordered Sally, in a voice of utter loathing,
and he halted. "Hit wasn't jest kissin' me--" She broke off, and
shuddered again. "I said thet Samson was in this here room. Ef ye moves
twell I tells ye ye kin, ye'll hear him speak ter ye, an' ef he speaks
ye won't never hear nothin' more. This here is Samson's gun. I reckon
he'll tell me ter pull the trigger terectly!"
"Fer God's sake, Sally!" implored the braggart. "Fer God's sake, look
over what I done. I knows ye're Samson's gal. I----"