THE SCOUT MASTER
379
his left hand. Uncle Jake had large hands, and I thought, as I studied
them, of how much softer to the touch they were than one could
imagine from their rough appearance.
It was likely the word "revolver" that finally made me listen to
what he was actually saying about that particular one of the Indians.
"Yes, Bill Evers tells me," he said, "that he is never afraid anywhere
on the darkest night or in the wildest country as long as he has his
revolver." And Uncle Jake each time he pronounced "revolver"
would roll it out magnificently.
Virginia Ann's face suddenly blossomed into a broad smile that
showed her lovely white teeth and revealed perhaps here and there
little splotches of orange-red paint that Mother said she applied "so
liberally" to her lips.
Then Uncle Jake reported several of the incidents wherein Bill
Evers had felt himself more secure for having his revolver by his side.
Once he had been camping in the Baxter Hills. Another time he had
been hunting along Duck River and had met a couple of old moon–
shiners whom Bill had described as "very much intoxicated." When–
ever Uncle J ake was quoting Bill directly he would deepen
his
voice
and roll his r's, and for some reason this made Virginia Ann blush.
It was, of course, because Bill was the only one of her beaux that
really had a man's voice. And it seemed that Uncle Jake by deepening
his voice was referring to that fact rather too persistently and some–
how indelicately. Possibly I was the first to feel that Virginia Ann was
no longer feigning tl1at sober expression that had settled on her face
now. I was watching her when Uncle J ake said, "Bill Evers is never
afraid so long as he has his revolver by his side. 'My revolver,' Bill
told me, 'is my best friend and just let any fellow take care who
meddles with me when I have my revolver by my side'."
Without warning, Virginia Ann sprang from the table weeping,
not like a kitten but like a wounded animal in the forest. She ran
from the dining room crying, "Oh, you're too cruel. You're heartless."
Uncle Jake seemed unable to move or to speak. He looked help–
lessly from Father to Mother whose faces registered nothing but half
amused surprise. Then he pushed back his chair and hurried clumsily
after Virginia Ann calling, "Child. . . . Child." Brother and I each
slipped from our chairs to follow, but Mother and Father, who were
now looking at one another, smiling and shaking their heads sadly,
turned quickly to us and commanded us to return to our seats.
"Poor Jake," Father said, " always has to pay for what fun he
has in life."
Mother continued to take an occasional sip from her white coffee
