"My God, but you're a cute kid!" he chuckled.
Tessibel's laugh rang out deliciously fresh and free, and Burnett caught it up and sent it back in one loud guffaw. Then the girl lifted one of her curls and spread it out to its extreme length. Tess had been born possessing all the arts of her sex, and used them effectively, upon an occasion like this.
"I wish my ankle wasn't wrapped up," she smiled hospitably. "I'd show ye 'round the shanty myself. Ye noticed the hedge when ye come in, didn't ye? Well--I planted that an' all the flowers--and this owl belongs to me an' I keep 'im in the garret,--an'--I almost got a dog once, but not quite! Job Kennedy owns 'im, an his name air Pete, but he likes to live here better'n he does to Job's." Tess gasped for breath and flushed rosily. "But I air keepin' ye, sir," she excused, "an I mustn't do that.
You go on and look in Daddy Skinner's room an'--then ye go up in the garret, an' then ye can look behind the chairs an' behind the stove, an'
ye can look under the bed--"
She paused dramatically and held up a warning finger.
"Please don't scare none of my bats nor my uther owls in the garret.
They be awful nice bats an' awful nice owls too! Ye wouldn't hurt 'em, would ye, mister?"
"I won't do anything you don't want me to, kid," the infatuated man promised. "Honest, I won't search the house if you say not."
"Oh, sure, search it," insisted Tess. "Then ye'll be pretty sure there ain't nobody hidin' 'round."
Burnett walked toward Daddy Skinner's room.
"I wouldn't mind havin' a daughter like you," he vowed, looking back. "I got two nice boys to home, but I tell you a man misses a lot in the world, if he doesn't have a girl. Why, kiddie, I've had a better time in the past five minutes than I've had in the past five years." He paused, his hand on the latch of the door into Daddy Skinner's room.
Tessibel gurgled and giggled, and giggled and gurgled, as if she hadn't a care in the world although she felt a paralyzing pain in her heart for the dwarf beneath her. Then she threw a mischievous glance into the man's face and offered,
"While ye air searchin' the shanty, I'll sing to ye, huh?"
"Now, can ye sing?" interrogated Burnett, smilingly.
"Oh, Golly, sir, I been singin' since I weren't no bigger'n this owl,"
replied Tess. "I'll begin now."
She knew Andy must be numb with fright and the weight of her body, and remembered how many times when he had been kept in the garret long periods together, while people were coming and going, and danger ran high, she had sung to him--it had soothed his pains, allayed his agony.
So as Burnett disappeared from sight into the little back room, Tessibel began to sing the old, but ever newly encouraging song,
"Rescue the Perishin'; Care for the Dyin'."
And in the fleeting moment during which the officer from Auburn was searching Daddy's room, her hand went backward quickly and reassuring fingers touched the dwarf's face concealed by her curls, and still she sang,
"Rescue the Perishin'; Care for the Dyin'."
Then Tess felt Andy's body relax and heard the faintest possible sigh.
When Burnett came forth unsuccessful but cheerful, her fingers were toying with her curls, and she broke off her song, question him with her eyes.
"There ain't a soul in there," laughed the man. "I might a'known Bishop wasn't around here; in fact, I did know it the minute I looked at you, kid. Now, just as a matter of law and order, I'll take a peep in the garret and under the bed, and then I'm done ... Say, you got some voice, ain't you, kid?"
"It can holler good and loud," grinned Tess.
"And you're some religious, I bet, according to the hymn you've been singin'," went on the warden. "Now ain't you?"
Tess sobered instantly. She was always very careful not to be irreverent about sacred things.
"You can bet your boots, I air some _awful_ religious," she acquisced earnestly. "I've knowed about God and Jesus ever so long."
"That's nice," responded Burnett, becoming grave in his turn.
Oh, would he never go! Would he never finish?
When Burnett walked toward the ladder, she sighed dolefully.
"Does your foot hurt you, kid?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"Nope," faltered Tess. "I guess I were a thinkin' what'd happen to the little man when ye get 'im."
The warden was trying the strength of the ladder.
"Oh, I'll hike him back up state quicker'n scat when I get my fingers on 'im," said he, his head disappearing in the hole in the ceiling.
In less than thirty seconds he was down again and had taken a squint under the bed.
"There isn't any dwarf under there either," he said, amusement in his tones. He stretched forth his hand, reaching down to the girl on the cot.
"Now, don't hold nothing against me, kiddie, for comin' here, will ye?
Just shake hands with a feller and say it's all right, eh?"
Tessibel lifted the owl high in the air and opened her fingers. There was a small ghostly flutter and in another instant Deacon had disappeared into the garret.
She gave the warden both her hands, and for the little minute Burnett stood by the bed holding them in his and assuring her of his good will.
Tessibel sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. Her little Andy, Daddy Skinner's friend, was saved!
When Burnett reached the door, he looked back at her. The girl's lips were parted in a brilliant, farewell smile. He whirled about and came toward her again.
"Kid," he said huskily, "I'm a hard-headed old cuss, harder'n brass tacks. I been made so by just such men as Andy Bishop--" He paused, and during his short hesitation, pregnant with meaning, Tessibel kept her eyes on him. "I was wonderin', little one," he finished, shame-faced, "when you say your prayers, if you'd pipe one for me. I need it, so help me God, I do."
In another moment he was at the door, and in response to the hasty glance he sent her, Tess flung him a misty, loving smile.
"Sure, sir, sure I will," she called, "an' thank ye for bein' so kind."
Burnett strode out; Tessibel rolled off the dwarf's body to one side of the cot, and Andy gave an audible grunt.
"I air gee-danged glad that air over," sighed Tess. And as she lay very still, the warden's hearty voice came floating to her.
"That's a mighty fine girl you got, Skinner."
Tess also heard her father's husky reply. "Bet yer life, she air....
Good day to ye, sir."
Shortly after, the anxious listeners in the shanty heard the click of the horse's shoes and the rumble of the departing wheels on the stones amid the wagon's creaking complaints against the steepness of the hill.