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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20697-0.txt b/20697-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb4c0a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/20697-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6725 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Prairie Folks, by Hamlin Garland + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Prairie Folks + +Author: Hamlin Garland + +Release Date: February 27, 2007 [EBook #20697] + +Last Updated: September 11, 2017. + +Language: English + + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRAIRIE FOLKS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Robert Homa, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +PRAIRIE FOLKS + +By HAMLIN GARLAND, AUTHOR OF +"MAIN-TRAVELED ROADS," "A MEMBER OF +THE THIRD HOUSE," "A SPOIL OF OFFICE," +ETC., ETC. + +F. J. SCHULTE & COMPANY + +PUBLISHERS CHICAGO. M DCCC XCIII + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +Copyright, 1892, +by HAMLIN GARLAND. + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +Prairie Folks. + +Pioneers. + + They rise to mastery of wind and snow; + They go like soldiers grimly into strife, + To colonize the plain; they plow and sow, + And fertilize the sod with their own life + As did the Indian and the buffalo. + +Settlers. + + Above them soars a dazzling sky, + In winter blue and clear as steel, + In summer like an Arctic sea + Wherein vast icebergs drift and reel + And melt like sudden sorcery. + + Beneath them plains stretch far and fair, + Rich with sunlight and with rain; + Vast harvests ripen with their care + And fill with overplus of grain + Their square, great bins. + + Yet still they strive! I see them rise + At dawn-light, going forth to toil: + The same salt sweat has filled my eyes, + My feet have trod the self-same soil + Behind the snarling plow. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +CONTENTS + +UNCLE ETHAN'S SPECULATION 11 + +THE TEST OF ELDER PILL 33 + +WILLIAM BACON'S HIRED MAN 73 + +SIM BURNS'S WIFE 101 + +SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE FARM 143 + +VILLAGE CRONIES 169 + +DRIFTING CRANE 187 + +OLD DADDY DEERING 201 + +THE SOCIABLE AT DUDLEY'S 227 + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART I. + +UNCLE ETHAN'S SPECULATION IN PATENT MEDICINES. + + A certain guileless trust in human kind + Too often leads them into nets + Spread by some wandering trader, + Smooth, and deft, and sure. + + +UNCLE ETHAN RIPLEY. + + +Uncle Ethan had a theory that a man's character could be told by the way +he sat in a wagon seat. + +"A mean man sets right plumb in the _middle_ o' the seat, as much as to +say, 'Walk, gol darn yeh, who cares?' But a man that sets in one corner +o' the seat, much as to say, 'Jump in--cheaper t' ride 'n to walk,' you +can jest tie to." + +Uncle Ripley was prejudiced in favor of the stranger, therefore, before +he came opposite the potato patch, where the old man was "bugging his +vines." The stranger drove a jaded-looking pair of calico ponies, +hitched to a clattering democrat wagon, and he sat on the extreme end of +the seat, with the lines in his right hand, while his left rested on his +thigh, with his little finger gracefully crooked and his elbows akimbo. +He wore a blue shirt, with gay-colored armlets just above the elbows, +and his vest hung unbuttoned down his lank ribs. It was plain he was +well pleased with himself. + +As he pulled up and threw one leg over the end of the seat, Uncle Ethan +observed that the left spring was much more worn than the other, which +proved that it was not accidental, but that it was the driver's habit to +sit on that end of the seat. + +"Good afternoon," said the stranger, pleasantly. + +"Good afternoon, sir." + +"Bugs purty plenty?" + +"Plenty enough, I gol! I don't see where they all come fum." + +"Early Rose?" inquired the man, as if referring to the bugs. + +"No; Peachblows an' Carter Reds. My Early Rose is over near the house. +The old woman wants 'em near. See the darned things!" he pursued, +rapping savagely on the edge of the pan to rattle the bugs back. + +"How do yeh kill 'em--scald 'em?" + +"Mostly. Sometimes I"---- + +"Good piece of oats," yawned the stranger, listlessly. + +"That's barley." + +"So 'tis. Didn't notice." + +Uncle Ethan was wondering what the man was. He had some pots of black +paint in the wagon, and two or three square boxes. + +"What do yeh think o' Cleveland's chances for a second term?" continued +the man, as if they had been talking politics all the while. + +Uncle Ripley scratched his head. "Waal--I dunno--bein' a Republican--I +think "---- + +"That's so--it's a purty scaly outlook. I don't believe in second terms +myself," the man hastened to say. + +"Is that your new barn acrost there?" pointing with his whip. + +"Yes, sir, it is," replied the old man, proudly. After years of planning +and hard work he had managed to erect a little wooden barn, costing +possibly three hundred dollars. It was plain to be seen he took a +childish pride in the fact of its newness. + +The stranger mused. "A lovely place for a sign," he said, as his eyes +wandered across its shining yellow broadside. + +Uncle Ethan stared, unmindful of the bugs crawling over the edge of his +pan. His interest in the pots of paint deepened. + +"Couldn't think o' lettin' me paint a sign on that barn?" the stranger +continued, putting his locked hands around one knee, and gazing away +across the pig-pen at the building. + +"What kind of a sign? Gol darn your skins!" Uncle Ethan pounded the pan +with his paddle and scraped two or three crawling abominations off his +leathery wrist. + +It was a beautiful day, and the man in the wagon seemed unusually loath +to attend to business. The tired ponies slept in the shade of the +lombardies. The plain was draped in a warm mist, and shadowed by vast, +vaguely defined masses of clouds--a lazy June day. + +"Dodd's Family Bitters," said the man, waking out of his abstraction +with a start, and resuming his working manner. "The best bitter in the +market." He alluded to it in the singular. "Like to look at it? No +trouble to show goods, as the fellah says," he went on hastily, seeing +Uncle Ethan's hesitation. + +He produced a large bottle of triangular shape, like a bottle for +pickled onions. It had a red seal on top, and a strenuous caution in red +letters on the neck, "None genuine unless 'Dodd's Family Bitters' is +blown in the bottom." + +"Here's what it cures," pursued the agent, pointing at the side, where, +in an inverted pyramid, the names of several hundred diseases were +arranged, running from "gout" to "pulmonary complaints," etc. + +"I gol! she cuts a wide swath, don't she?" exclaimed Uncle Ethan, +profoundly impressed with the list. + +"They ain't no better bitter in the world," said the agent, with a +conclusive inflection. + +"What's its speshy-_al_ity? Most of 'em have some speshy-_al_ity." + +"Well--summer complaints--an'--an'--spring an' fall troubles--tones ye +up, sort of." + +Uncle Ethan's forgotten pan was empty of his gathered bugs. He was +deeply interested in this man. There was something he liked about him. + +"What does it sell fur?" he asked, after a pause. + +"Same price as them cheap medicines--dollar a bottle--big bottles, too. +Want one?" + +"Wal, mother ain't to home, an' I don't know as she'd like this kind. We +ain't been sick f'r years. Still, they's no tellin'," he added, seeing +the answer to his objection in the agent's eyes. "Times is purty close, +too, with us, y' see; we've jest built that stable "---- + +"Say, I'll tell yeh what I'll do," said the stranger, waking up and +speaking in a warmly generous tone. "I'll give you ten bottles of the +bitter if you'll let me paint a sign on that barn. It won't hurt the +barn a bit, and if you want 'o, you can paint it out a year from date. +Come, what d' ye say?" + +"I guess I hadn't better." + +The agent thought that Uncle Ethan was after more pay, but in reality he +was thinking of what his little old wife would say. + +"It simply puts a family bitter in your home that may save you fifty +dollars this comin' fall. You can't tell." + +Just what the man said after that Uncle Ethan didn't follow. His voice +had a confidential purring sound as he stretched across the wagon-seat +and talked on, eyes half shut. He straightened up at last, and concluded +in the tone of one who has carried his point: + +"So! If you didn't want to use the whole twenty-five bottles y'rself, +why! sell it to your neighbors. You can get twenty dollars out of it +easy, and still have five bottles of the best family bitter that ever +went into a bottle." + +It was the thought of this opportunity to get a buffalo-skin coat that +consoled Uncle Ethan as he saw the hideous black letters appearing under +the agent's lazy brush. + +It was the hot side of the barn, and painting was no light work. The +agent was forced to mop his forehead with his sleeve. + +"Say, hain't got a cooky or anything, and a cup o' milk handy?" he said +at the end of the first enormous word, which ran the whole length of the +barn. + +Uncle Ethan got him the milk and cooky, which he ate with an +exaggeratedly dainty action of his fingers, seated meanwhile on the +staging which Uncle Ripley had helped him to build. This lunch infused +new energy into him, and in a short time "DODD'S FAMILY BITTERS, Best +in the Market," disfigured the sweet-smelling pine boards. + + * * * * * + +Ethan was eating his self-obtained supper of bread and milk when his +wife came home. + +"Who's been a-paintin' on that barn?" she demanded, her bead-like eyes +flashing, her withered little face set in an ominous frown. "Ethan +Ripley, what you been doin'?" + +"Nawthin'," he replied, feebly. + +"Who painted that sign on there?" + +"A man come along an' he wanted to paint that on there, and I let 'im; +and it's my barn, anyway. I guess I can do what I'm a min' to with it," +he ended, defiantly; but his eyes wavered. + +Mrs. Ripley ignored the defiance. "What under the sun p'sessed you to do +such a thing as that, Ethan Ripley? I declare I don't see! You git +fooler an' fooler ev'ry day you live, I _do_ believe." + +Uncle Ethan attempted a defense. + +"Well, he paid me twenty-five dollars f'r it, anyway." + +"Did 'e?" She was visibly affected by this news. + +"Well, anyhow, it amounts to that; he give me twenty-five bottles"---- + +Mrs. Ripley sank back in her chair. "Well, I swan to Bungay! Ethan +Ripley--wal, you beat all I _ever_ see!" she added in despair of +expression. "I thought you had _some_ sense left, but you hain't, not +one blessed scimpton. Where _is_ the stuff?" + +"Down cellar, an' you needn't take on no airs, ol' woman. I've known you +to buy things you didn't need time an' time 'n' agin, tins and things, +an' I guess you wish you had back that ten dollars you paid for that +illustrated Bible." + +"Go 'long an' bring that stuff up here. I never see such a man in my +life. It's a wonder he didn't do it f'r two bottles." She glared out at +the sign, which faced directly upon the kitchen window. + +Uncle Ethan tugged the two cases up and set them down on the floor of +the kitchen. Mrs. Ripley opened a bottle and smelled of it like a +cautious cat. + +"Ugh! Merciful sakes, what stuff! It ain't fit f'r a hog to take. What'd +you think you was goin' to do with it?" she asked in poignant disgust. + +"I expected to take it--if I was sick. Whaddy ye s'pose?" He defiantly +stood his ground, towering above her like a leaning tower. + +"The hull cartload of it?" + +"No. I'm goin' to sell part of it an' git me an overcoat"---- + +"Sell it!" she shouted. "Nobuddy'll buy that sick'nin' stuff but an old +numbskull like you. Take that slop out o' the house this minute! Take +it right down to the sink-hole an' smash every bottle on the stones." + +Uncle Ethan and the cases of medicine disappeared, and the old woman +addressed her concluding remarks to little Tewksbury, her grandson, who +stood timidly on one leg in the doorway, like an intruding pullet. + +"Everything around this place 'ud go to rack an' ruin if I didn't keep a +watch on that soft-pated old dummy. I thought that lightenin'-rod man +had give him a lesson he'd remember, but no, he must go an' make a +reg'lar"---- + +She subsided in a tumult of banging pans, which helped her out in the +matter of expression and reduced her to a grim sort of quiet. Uncle +Ethan went about the house like a convict on shipboard. Once she caught +him looking out of the window. + +"I should _think_ you'd feel proud o' that." + +Uncle Ethan had never been sick a day in his life. He was bent and +bruised with never-ending toil, but he had nothing especial the matter +with him. + +He did not smash the medicine, as Mrs. Ripley commanded, because he had +determined to sell it. The next Sunday morning, after his chores were +done, he put on his best coat of faded diagonal, and was brushing his +hair into a ridge across the center of his high, narrow head, when Mrs. +Ripley came in from feeding the calves. + +"Where you goin' now?" + +"None o' your business," he replied. "It's darn funny if I can't stir +without you wantin' to know all about it. Where's Tewky?" + +"Feedin' the chickens. You ain't goin' to take him off this mornin' now! +I don't care where you go." + +"Who's a-goin' to take him off? I ain't said nothin' about takin' him +off." + +"Wall, take y'rself off, an' if y' ain't here f'r dinner, I ain't goin' +to get no supper." + +Ripley took a water-pail and put four bottles of "the bitter" into it, +and trudged away up the road with it in a pleasant glow of hope. All +nature seemed to declare the day a time of rest, and invited men to +disassociate ideas of toil from the rustling green wheat, shining grass, +and tossing blooms. Something of the sweetness and buoyancy of all +nature permeated the old man's work-calloused body, and he whistled +little snatches of the dance tunes he played on his fiddle. + +But he found neighbor Johnson to be supplied with another variety of +bitter, which was all he needed for the present. He qualified his +refusal to buy with a cordial invitation to go out and see his shotes, +in which he took infinite pride. But Uncle Ripley said: "I guess I'll +haf t' be goin'; I want 'o git up to Jennings' before dinner." + +He couldn't help feeling a little depressed when he found Jennings away. +The next house along the pleasant lane was inhabited by a "new-comer." +He was sitting on the horse-trough, holding a horse's halter, while his +hired man dashed cold water upon the galled spot on the animal's +shoulder. + +After some preliminary talk Ripley presented his medicine. + +"Hell, no! What do I want of such stuff? When they's anything the matter +with me, I take a lunkin' ol' swig of popple-bark and bourbon. That +fixes me." + +Uncle Ethan moved off up the lane. He hardly felt like whistling now. At +the next house he set his pail down in the weeds beside the fence, and +went in without it. Doudney came to the door in his bare feet, buttoning +his suspenders over a clean boiled shirt. He was dressing to go out. + +"Hello, Ripley. I was just goin' down your way. Jest wait a minute an' +I'll be out." + +When he came out fully dressed, Uncle Ethan grappled him. + +"Say, what d' you think o' paytent med"---- + +"Some of 'em are boss. But y' want 'o know what y're gitt'n'." + +"What d' ye think o' Dodd's"---- + +"Best in the market." + +Uncle Ethan straightened up and his face lighted. Doudney went on: + +"Yes, sir; best bitter that ever went into a bottle. I know, I've tried +it. I don't go much on patent medicines, but when I get a good"---- + +"Don't want 'o buy a bottle?" + +Doudney turned and faced him. + +"Buy! No. I've got nineteen bottles I want 'o _sell_." Ripley glanced up +at Doudney's new granary and there read "Dodd's Family Bitters." He was +stricken dumb. Doudney saw it all and roared. + +"Wal, that's a good one! We two tryin' to sell each other bitters. +Ho--ho--ho--har, whoop! wal, this is rich! How many bottles did you +git?" + +"None o' your business," said Uncle Ethan, as he turned and made off, +while Doudney screamed with merriment. + +On his way home Uncle Ethan grew ashamed of his burden. Doudney had +canvassed the whole neighborhood, and he practically gave up the +struggle. Everybody he met seemed determined to find out what he had +been doing, and at last he began lying about it. + +"Hello, Uncle Ripley, what y' got there in that pail?" + +"Goose eggs f'r settin'." + +He disposed of one bottle to old Gus Peterson. Gus never paid his debts, +and he would only promise fifty cents "on tick" for the bottle, and yet +so desperate was Ripley that this _quasi_ sale cheered him up not a +little. + +As he came down the road, tired, dusty and hungry, he climbed over the +fence in order to avoid seeing that sign on the barn, and slunk into the +house without looking back. + +He couldn't have felt meaner about it if he had allowed a Democratic +poster to be pasted there. + +The evening passed in grim silence, and in sleep he saw that sign +wriggling across the side of the barn like boa-constrictors hung on +rails. He tried to paint them out, but every time he tried it the man +seemed to come back with a sheriff, and savagely warned him to let it +stay till the year was up. In some mysterious way the agent seemed to +know every time he brought out the paint-pot, and he was no longer the +pleasant-voiced individual who drove the calico ponies. + +As he stepped out into the yard next morning, that abominable, +sickening, scrawling advertisement was the first thing that claimed his +glance--it blotted out the beauty of the morning. + +Mrs. Ripley came to the window, buttoning her dress at the throat, a +whisp of her hair sticking assertively from the little knob at the back +of her head. + +"Lovely, ain't it! An' _I_'ve got to see it all day long. I can't look +out the winder but that thing's right in my face." It seemed to make her +savage. She hadn't been in such a temper since her visit to New York. "I +hope you feel satisfied with it." + +Ripley walked off to the barn. His pride in its clean, sweet newness was +gone. He slyly tried the paint to see if it couldn't be scraped off, +but it was dried in thoroughly. Whereas before he had taken delight in +having his neighbors turn and look at the building, now he kept out of +sight whenever he saw a team coming. He hoed corn away in the back of +the field, when he should have been bugging potatoes by the roadside. + +Mrs. Ripley was in a frightful mood about it, but she held herself in +check for several days. At last she burst forth: + +"Ethan Ripley, I can't stand that thing any longer, and I ain't goin' +to, that's all! You've got to go and paint that thing out, or I will. +I'm just about crazy with it." + +"But, mother, I promised "---- + +"I don't care _what_ you promised, it's got to be painted out. I've got +the nightmare now, seein' it. I'm goin' to send f'r a pail o' red paint, +and I'm goin' to paint that out if it takes the last breath I've got to +do it." + +"I'll tend to it, mother, if you won't hurry me"---- + +"I can't stand it another day. It makes me boil every time I look out +the winder." + +Uncle Ethan hitched up his team and drove gloomily off to town, where he +tried to find the agent. He lived in some other part of the county, +however, and so the old man gave up and bought a pot of red paint, not +daring to go back to his desperate wife without it. + +"Goin' to paint y'r new barn?" inquired the merchant, with friendly +interest. + +Uncle Ethan turned with guilty sharpness; but the merchant's face was +grave and kindly. + +"Yes, I thought I'd touch it up a little--don't cost much." + +"It pays--always," the merchant said emphatically. + +"Will it--stick jest as well put on evenings?" inquired Uncle Ethan, +hesitatingly. + +"Yes--won't make any difference. Why? Ain't goin' to have"---- + +"Waal,--I kind o' thought I'd do it odd times night an' mornin'--kind +o' odd times"---- + +He seemed oddly confused about it, and the merchant looked after him +anxiously as he drove away. + +After supper that night he went out to the barn, and Mrs. Ripley heard +him sawing and hammering. Then the noise ceased, and he came in and sat +down in his usual place. + +"What y' ben makin'?" she inquired. Tewksbury had gone to bed. She sat +darning a stocking. + +"I jest thought I'd git the stagin' ready f'r paintin'," he said, +evasively. + +"Waal! I'll be glad when it's covered up." When she got ready for bed, +he was still seated in his chair, and after she had dozed off two or +three times she began to wonder why he didn't come. When the clock +struck ten, and she realized that he had not stirred, she began to get +impatient. "Come, are y' goin' to sit there all night?" There was no +reply. She rose up in bed and looked about the room. The broad moon +flooded it with light, so that she could see he was not asleep in his +chair, as she had supposed. There was something ominous in his +disappearance. + +"Ethan! Ethan Ripley, where are yeh?" There was no reply to her sharp +call. She rose and distractedly looked about among the furniture, as if +he might somehow be a cat and be hiding in a corner somewhere. Then she +went upstairs where the boy slept, her hard little heels making a +curious _tunking_ noise on the bare boards. The moon fell across the +sleeping boy like a robe of silver. He was alone. + +She began to be alarmed. Her eyes widened in fear. All sorts of vague +horrors sprang unbidden into her brain. She still had the mist of sleep +in her brain. + +She hurried down the stairs and out into the fragrant night. The +katydids were singing in infinite peace under the solemn splendor of the +moon. The cattle sniffed and sighed, jangling their bells now and then, +and the chickens in the coops stirred uneasily as if overheated. The old +woman stood there in her bare feet and long nightgown, horror-stricken. +The ghastly story of a man who had hung himself in his barn because his +wife deserted him came into her mind and stayed there with frightful +persistency. Her throat filled chokingly. + +She felt a wild rush of loneliness. She had a sudden realization of how +dear that gaunt old figure was, with its grizzled face and ready smile. +Her breath came quick and quicker, and she was at the point of bursting +into a wild cry to Tewksbury, when she heard a strange noise. It came +from the barn, a creaking noise. She looked that way, and saw in the +shadowed side a deeper shadow moving to and fro. A revulsion to +astonishment and anger took place in her. + +"Land o' Bungay! If he ain't paintin' that barn, like a perfect old +idiot, in the night." + +Uncle Ethan, working desperately, did not hear her feet pattering down +the path, and was startled by her shrill voice. + +"Well, Ethan Ripley, whaddy y' think you're doin' now?" + +He made two or three slapping passes with the brush, and then snapped, +"I'm a-paintin' this barn--whaddy ye s'pose? If ye had eyes y' wouldn't +ask." + +"Well, you come right straight to bed. What d'you mean by actin' so?" + +"You go back into the house an' let me be. I know what I'm a-doin'. +You've pestered me about this sign jest about enough." He dabbed his +brush to and fro as he spoke. His gaunt figure towered above her in +shadow. His slapping brush had a vicious sound. + +Neither spoke for some time. At length she said more gently, "Ain't you +comin' in?" + +"No--not till I get a-ready. You go 'long an' tend to y'r own business. +Don't stan' there an' ketch cold." + +She moved off slowly toward the house. His voice subdued her. Working +alone out there had rendered him savage; he was not to be pushed any +farther. She knew by the tone of his voice that he must not be +assaulted. She slipped on her shoes and a shawl, and came back where he +was working, and took a seat on a saw-horse. + +"I'm a-goin' to set right here till you come in, Ethan Ripley," she +said, in a firm voice, but gentler than usual. + +"Waal, you'll set a good while," was his ungracious reply. But each felt +a furtive tenderness for the other. He worked on in silence. The boards +creaked heavily as he walked to and fro, and the slapping sound of the +paint-brush sounded loud in the sweet harmony of the night. The majestic +moon swung slowly round the corner of the barn, and fell upon the old +man's grizzled head and bent shoulders. The horses inside could be heard +stamping the mosquitoes away, and chewing their hay in pleasant chorus. + +The little figure seated on the saw-horse drew the shawl closer about +her thin shoulders. Her eyes were in shadow, and her hands were wrapped +in her shawl. At last she spoke in a curious tone. + +"Well, I don't know as you _was_ so very much to blame. I _didn't_ want +that Bible myself--I held out I did, but I didn't." + +Ethan worked on until the full meaning of this unprecedented surrender +penetrated his head, and then he threw down his brush. + +"Waal, I guess I'll let 'er go at that. I've covered up the most of it, +anyhow. Guess we'd better go in." + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART II. + +THE TEST OF ELDER PILL: THE COUNTRY PREACHER. + + The lonely center of their social life, + The low, square school-house, stands + Upon the wind-swept plain, + Hacked by thoughtless boyish hands, + And gray, and worn, and warped with strife + Of sleet and autumn rain. + + +ELDER PILL, PREACHER. + +I. + + +Old man Bacon was pinching forked barbs on a wire fence one rainy day in +July, when his neighbor Jennings came along the road on his way to town. +Jennings never went to town except when it rained too hard to work +outdoors, his neighbors said; and of old man Bacon it was said he +_never_ rested _nights_ nor Sundays. + +Jennings pulled up. "Good morning, neighbor Bacon." + +"Mornin'," rumbled the old man without looking up. + +"Taking it easy, as usual, I see. Think it's going to clear up?" + +"May, an' may not. Don't make much differunce t' me," growled Bacon, +discouragingly. + +"Heard about the plan for a church?" + +"Naw." + +"Well, we're goin' to hire Elder Pill from Douglass to come over and +preach every Sunday afternoon at the school-house, an' we want help t' +pay him--the laborer is worthy of his hire." + +"Sometimes he is an' then agin he ain't. Y' needn't look t' me f'r a +dollar. I ain't got no intrust in y'r church." + +"Oh, yes, you have--besides, y'r wife "---- + +"She ain't got no more time 'n I have t' go t' church. We're obleeged to +do 'bout all we c'n stand t' pay our debts, let alone tryun' to support +a preacher." And the old man shut the pinchers up on a barb with a +vicious grip. + +Easy-going Mr. Jennings laughed in his silent way. "I guess you'll help +when the time comes," he said, and, clucking to his team, drove off. + +"I guess I won't," muttered the grizzled old giant as he went on with +his work. Bacon was what is called land-poor in the West, that is, he +had more land than money; still he was able to give if he felt disposed. +It remains to say that he was _not_ disposed, being a sceptic and a +scoffer. It angered him to have Jennings predict so confidently that he +would help. + +The sun was striking redly through a rift in the clouds, about three +o'clock in the afternoon, when he saw a man coming up the lane, walking +on the grass at the side of the road, and whistling merrily. The old man +looked at him from under his huge eyebrows with some curiosity. As he +drew near, the pedestrian ceased to whistle, and, just as the farmer +expected him to pass, he stopped and said, in a free and easy style: + +"How de do? Give me a chaw t'baccer. I'm Pill, the new minister. I take +fine-cut when I can get it," he said, as Bacon put his hand into his +pocket. "Much obliged. How goes it?" + +"Tollable, tollable," said the astounded farmer, looking hard at Pill as +he flung a handful of tobacco into his mouth. + +"Yes, I'm the new minister sent around here to keep you fellows in the +traces and out of hell-fire. Have y' fled from the wrath?" he asked, in +a perfunctory way. + +"You are, eh?" said Bacon, referring back to his profession. + +"I am just! How do you like that style of barb fence? Ain't the twisted +wire better?" + +"I s'pose they be, but they cost more." + +"Yes, costs more to go to heaven than to hell. You'll think so after I +board with you a week. Narrow the road that leads to light, and broad +the way that leads--how's your soul anyway, brother?" + +"Soul's all right. I find more trouble to keep m' body go'n'." + +"Give us your hand; so do I. All the same we must prepare for the next +world. We're gettin' old; lay not up your treasures where moth and rust +corrupt and thieves break through and steal." + +Bacon was thoroughly interested in the preacher, and was studying him +carefully. He was tall, straight, and superbly proportioned; +broad-shouldered, wide-lunged, and thewed like a Greek racer. His rather +small steel-blue eyes twinkled, and his shrewd face and small head, set +well back, completed a remarkable figure. He wore his reddish beard in +the usual way of Western clergymen, with mustache chopped close. + +Bacon spoke slowly: + +"You look like a good, husky man to pitch in the barnyard; you've too +much muscle f'r preachun'." + +"Come and hear me next Sunday, and if you say so then, I'll quit," +replied Mr. Pill, quietly. "I give ye my word for it. I believe in +preachers havin' a little of the flesh and the devil; they can +sympathize better with the rest of ye." The sarcasm was lost on Bacon, +who continued to look at him. Suddenly he said, as if with an +involuntary determination: + +"Where ye go'n' to stay t'night?" + +"I don' know; do you?" was the quick reply. + +"I reckon ye can hang out with me, 'f ye feel like ut. We ain't very +purty, ol' woman an' me, but we eat. You go along down the road and tell +'er I sent yeh. Y'll find an' ol' dusty Bible round some'rs--I s'pose ye +spend y'r spare time read'n about Joshua an' Dan'l"---- + +"I spend more time reading men. Well, I'm off! I'm hungrier 'n a gray +wolf in a bear-trap." And off he went as he came. But he did not whistle; +he chewed. + +Bacon felt as if he had made too much of a concession, and had a strong +inclination to shout after him, and retract his invitation; but he did +not, only worked on, with an occasional bear-like grin. There was +something captivating in this fellow's free and easy way. + +When he came up to the house an hour or two later, in singular good +humor for him, he found the Elder in the creamery, with "the old woman" +and Marietta. Marietta was not more won by him than was Jane Bacon, he +was so genial and put on so few religious frills. + +Mrs. Bacon never put on frills of any kind. She was a most frightful +toiler, only excelled (if excelled at all) by her husband. She was still +muscular in her age and shapelessness. Unlovely at her best, when about +her work in her faded calico gown and flat shoes, hair wisped into a +slovenly knot, she was depressing. But she was a good woman, of sterling +integrity, and ambitious for her girl. + +Marietta was as attractive as her mother was depressing. She was very +young at this time and had the physical perfection--at least as regards +body--that her parents must have had in youth. She was above the average +height of woman, with strong swell of bosom and glorious, erect +carriage of head. Her features were coarse, but regular and pleasing, +and her manner boyish. + +Elder Pill was on the best of terms with them as he watched the milk +being skimmed out of the "submerged cans" ready for the "caaves and +hawgs," as Mrs. Bacon called them. + +"Dad told you t' come here 'nd stay t' supper, did he? What's come over +him?" said the girl, with a sort of audacious humor. + +"Dad has an awful grutch agin preachers," said Mrs. Bacon, as she wiped +her hands on her apron. "I declare, I don't see how"---- + +"_Some_ preachers, not _all_ preachers," laughed Pill, in his mellow +nasal. "There are preachers, and then again preachers. I'm one o' the +t'other kind." + +"I sh'd think y' was," laughed the girl. + +"Now, Merry Etty, you run right t' the pig-pen with that milk, whilst I +go in an' set the tea on." + +Mr. Pill seized the can of milk, saying, with a twang: "Show me the way +that I may walk therein," and, accompanied by the laughing girl, made +rapid way to the pig-pen just as the old man set up a ferocious shout to +call the hired hand out of the cornfield. + +"How'd y' come to send _him_ here?" asked Mrs. Bacon, nodding toward +Pill. + +"Damfino! I kind o' liked him--no nonsense about him," answered Bacon, +going into temporary eclipse behind his hands as he washed his face at +the cistern. + +At the supper table Pill was "easy as an old shoe," ate with his knife, +talked on fatting hogs, suggested a few points on raising clover, told +of pioneer experiences in Michigan, and soon won them--hired man and +all--to a most favorable opinion of himself. But he did not trench on +religious matters at all. + +The hired man in his shirt-sleeves, and smelling frightfully of tobacco +and sweat (as did Bacon), sat with open month, at times forgetting to +eat, in his absorbing interest in the minister's yarns. + +"Yes, I've got a family, too much of a family, in fact--that is, I think +so sometimes when I'm pinched. Our Western people are so indigent--in +plain terms, poor--they _can't_ do any better than they do. But we pull +through--we pull through! John, you look like a stout fellow, but I'll +bet a hat I can _down_ you three out of five." + +"I bet you can't," grinned the hired man. It was the climax of all, that +bet. + +"I'll take y' in hand an' flop y' both," roared Bacon from his lion-like +throat, his eyes glistening with rare good-nature from the shadow of his +gray brows. But he admired the minister's broad shoulders at the same +time. If this fellow panned out as he promised, he was a rare specimen. + +After supper the Elder played a masterly game of croquet with Marietta, +beating her with ease; then he wandered out to the barn and talked +horses with the hired man, and finished by stripping off his coat and +putting on one of Mrs. Bacon's aprons to help milk the cows. + + * * * * * + +But at breakfast the next morning, when the family were about pitching +into their food as usual without ceremony, "_Wait!_" said the visitor, +in an imperious tone and with lifted hand. "Let us look to the Lord for +His blessing." + +They waited till the grace was said, but it threw a depressing +atmosphere over the meal; evidently they considered the trouble begun. +At the end of the meal the minister asked: + +"Have you a Bible in the house?" + +"I reckon there's one in the house somewhere. Merry, go 'n see 'f y' +can't raise one," said Mrs. Bacon, indifferently. + +"Have you any objection to family devotion?" asked Pill, as the book was +placed in his hands by the girl. + +"No; have all you want," said Bacon, as he rose from the table and +passed out the door. + +"I guess I'll see the thing through," said the hand. "It ain't just +square to leave the women folks to bear the brunt of it." + +It was shortly after breakfast that the Elder concluded he'd walk up to +Brother Jennings' and see about church matters. + +"I shall expect you, Brother Bacon, to be at the service at 2:30." + +"All right, go ahead expectun'," responded Bacon, with an inscrutable +sidewise glance. + +"You promised, you remember?" + +"The--devil--I did!" the old man snarled. + +The Elder looked back with a smile, and went off whistling in the warm, +bright morning. + + + + +II. + + +The school-house down on the creek was known as "Hell's Corners" all +through the county, because of the frequent rows that took place therein +at "corkuses" and the like, and also because of the number of teachers +that had been "ousted" by the boys. In fact, it was one of those places +still to be found occasionally in the West, far from railroads and +schools, where the primitive ignorance and ferocity of men still prowl, +like the panthers which are also found sometimes in the deeps of the +Iowa timber lands. + +The most of this ignorance and ferocity, however, was centered in the +family of Dixons, a dark-skinned, unsavory group of Missourians. It +consisted of old man Dixon and wife, and six sons, all man-grown, great, +gaunt, sinewy fellows, with no education, but superstitious as savages. +If anything went wrong in 'Hell's Corners' everybody knew that the +Dixons were "on the rampage again." The school-teachers were warned +against the Dixons, and the preachers were besought to convert the +Dixons. + +In fact, John Jennings, as he drove Pill to the school-house next day, +said: + +"If you can convert the Dixon boys, Elder, I'll give you the best horse +in my barn." + +"I work not for such hire," said Mr. Pill, with a look of deep solemnity +on his face, belied, indeed, by a twinkle in his small, keen eye--a +twinkle which made Milton Jennings laugh candidly. + +There was considerable curiosity, expressed by a murmur of lips and +voices, as the minister's tall figure entered the door and stood for a +moment in a study of the scene before him. It was a characteristically +Western scene. The women were rigidly on one side of the school-room, +the men as rigidly on the other; the front seats were occupied by +squirming boys and girls in their Sunday splendor. + +On the back, to the right, were the young men, in their best vests, with +paper collars and butterfly neckties, with their coats unbuttoned, their +hair plastered down in a fascinating wave on their brown foreheads. Not +a few were in their shirt-sleeves. The older men sat immediately +between the youths and boys, talking in hoarse whispers across the +aisles about the state of the crops and the county ticket, while the +women in much the same way conversed about children and raising onions +and strawberries. It was their main recreation, this Sunday meeting. + +"Brethren!" rang out the imperious voice of the minister, "let us pray." + +The audience thoroughly enjoyed the Elder's prayer. He was certainly +gifted in that direction, and his petition grew genuinely eloquent as +his desires embraced the "ends of the earth and the utterm'st parts of +the seas thereof." But in the midst of it a clatter was heard, and five +or six strapping fellows filed in with loud thumpings of their brogans. + +Shortly after they had settled themselves with elaborate impudence on +the back seat, the singing began. Just as they were singing the last +verse, every individual voice wavered and all but died out in +astonishment to see William Bacon come in--an unheard-of thing! And with +a clean shirt, too! Bacon, to tell the truth, was feeling as much out of +place as a cat in a bath-tub, and looked uncomfortable, even shamefaced, +as he sidled in, his shapeless hat gripped nervously in both hands; +coatless and collarless, his shirt open at his massive throat. The girls +tittered, of course, and the boys hammered each other's ribs, moved by +the unusual sight. Milton Jennings, sitting beside Marietta, said: + +"Well! may I jump straight up and never come down!" + +And Shep Watson said: "May I never see the back o' my neck!" Which +pleased Marietta so much that she grew purple with efforts to conceal +her laughter; she always enjoyed a joke on her father. + +But all things have an end, and at last the room became quiet as Mr. +Pill began to read the Scripture, wondering a little at the commotion. +He suspected that those dark-skinned, grinning fellows on the back seat +were the Dixon boys, and knew they were bent on fun. The physique of the +minister being carefully studied, the boys began whispering among +themselves, and at last, just as the sermon opened, they began to push +the line of young men on the long seat over toward the girls' side, +squeezing Milton against Marietta. This pleasantry encouraged one of +them to whack his neighbor over the head with his soft hat, causing +great laughter and disturbance. The preacher stopped. His cool, +penetrating voice sounded strangely unclerical as he said: + +"There are some fellows here to-day to have fun with me. If they don't +keep quiet, they'll have more fun than they can hold." At this point a +green crab-apple bounded up the aisle. "I'm not to be bulldozed." + +He pulled off his coat and laid it on the table before him, and, amid a +wondering silence, took off his cuffs and collar, saying: + +"I can preach the word of the Lord just as well without my coat, and I +can throw rowdies out the door a little better in my shirt-sleeves." + +Had the Dixon boys been a little shrewder as readers of human character, +or if they had known why old William Bacon was there, they would have +kept quiet; but it was not long before they began to push again, and at +last one of them gave a squeak, and a tussle took place. The preacher +was in the midst of a sentence: + +"An evil deed, brethren, is like unto a grain of mustard seed. It is +small, but it grows steadily, absorbing its like from the earth and air, +sending out roots and branches, till at last"---- + +There was a scuffle and a snicker. Mr. Pill paused, and gazed intently +at Tom Dixon, who was the most impudent and strongest of the gang; then +he moved slowly down on the astonished young savage. As he came his eyes +seemed to expand like those of an eagle in battle, steady, remorseless, +unwavering, at the same time that his brows shut down over them--a +glance that hushed every breath. The awed and astounded ruffians sat as +if paralyzed by the unuttered yet terribly ferocious determination of +the preacher's eyes. His right hand was raised, the other was clenched +at his waist. There was a sort of solemnity in his approach, like a +tiger creeping upon a foe. + +At last, after what seemed minutes to the silent, motionless +congregation, his raised hand came down on the shoulder of the leader +with the exact, resistless precision of the tiger's paw, and the ruffian +was snatched from his seat to the floor sprawling. Before he could rise, +the steel-like grip of the roused preacher sent him half way to the +door, and then out into the dirt of the road. + +Turning, Pill came back down the aisle; as he came the half-risen +congregation made way for him, curiously. When he came within reach of +Dick, the fellow struck savagely out at the preacher, only to have his +blow avoided by a lithe, lightning-swift movement of the body above the +hips (a trained boxer's trick), and to find himself also lying bruised +and dazed on the floor. + +By this time the rest of the brothers had recovered from their stupor, +and, with wild curses, leaped over the benches toward the fearless Pill. + +But now a new voice was heard in the sudden uproar--a new but familiar +voice. It was the raucous snarl of William Bacon, known far and wide as +a terrible antagonist, a man who had never been whipped. He was like a +wild beast excited to primitive savagery by the smell of blood. + +"_Stand back_, you hell-hounds!" he said, leaping between them and the +preacher. "You know me. Lay another hand on that man an', by the livun' +God, you answer t' me. Back thear!" + +Some of the men cheered, most stood irresolute. The women crowded +together, the children began to scream with terror, while through it all +Pill was dragging his last assailant toward the door. + +Bacon made his way down to where the Dixons had halted, undecided what +to do. If the preacher had the air and action of the tiger, Bacon looked +the grizzly bear--his eyebrows working up and down, his hands clenched +into frightful bludgeons, his breath rushing through his hairy nostrils. + +"Git out o' hyare," he growled. "You've run things here jest about long +enough. Git out!" + +His hands were now on the necks of two of the boys, and he was hustling +them toward the door. + +"If you want 'o whip the preacher, meet him in the public road--one at a +time; he'll take care o' himself. Out with ye," he ended, kicking them +out. "Show your faces here agin, an' I'll break ye in two." + +The non-combative farmers now began to see the humor of the whole +transaction and began to laugh; but they were cut short by the calm +voice of the preacher at his desk: + +"But a _good_ deed, brethren, is like unto a grain of wheat planted in +good earth, that bringeth forth fruit in due season an hundred fold." + + + + +III. + + +Mr. Pill, with all his seeming levity, was a powerful hand at revivals, +as was developed at the "protracted" meetings held at the Corners during +December. Indeed, such was the pitiless intensity of his zeal that a +gloom was cast over the whole township; the ordinary festivities stopped +or did not begin at all. + +The lyceum, which usually began by the first week in December, was put +entirely out of the question, as were the spelling-schools and +"exhibitions." The boys, it is true, still drove the girls to meeting in +the usual manner; but they all wore a furtive, uneasy air, and their +laughter was not quite genuine at its best, and died away altogether +when they came near the school-house, and they hardly recovered from the +effects of the preaching till a mile or two had been spun behind the +shining runners. It took all the magic of the jingle of the bells and +the musical creak of the polished steel on the snow to win them back to +laughter. + +As for Elder Pill, he was as a man transformed. He grew more intense +each night, and strode back forth behind his desk and pounded the Bible +like an assassin. No more games with the boys, no more poking the girls +under the chin! When he asked for a chew of tobacco now it was with an +air which said: "I ask it as sustenance that will give me strength for +the Lord's service," as if the demands of the flesh had weakened the +spirit. + +Old man Bacon overtook Milton Jennings early one Monday morning, as +Milton was marching down toward the Seminary at Rock River. It was +intensely cold and still, so cold and still that the ring of the cold +steel of the heavy sleigh, the snort of the horses, and the old man's +voice came with astonishing distinctness to the ears of the hurrying +youth, and it seemed a very long time before the old man came up. + +"Climb on!" he yelled, out of his frosty beard. He was seated on the +"hind bob" of a wood-sleigh, on a couple of blankets. Milton clambered +on, knowing well he'd freeze to death there. + +"Reckon I heerd you prowlun' around the front door with my girl last +night," Bacon said at length. "The way you both 'tend out t' meetun' +ought 'o sanctify yeh; must 'a' stayed to the after-meetun', didn't +yeh?" + +"Nope. The front part was enough for"---- + +"Danged if I was any more fooled with a man in m' life. I b'lieve the +whole thing is a little scheme on the bretheren t' raise a dollar." + +"Why so?" + +"Waal, y' see Pill ain't got much out o' the app'intment thus fur, and +he ain't likely to, if he don't shake 'em up a leetle. Borrud ten +dollars o' me t'other day." + +Well, thought Milton, whatever his real motive is, Elder Pill is earning +all he gets. Standing for two or three hours in his place night after +night, arguing, pleading, but mainly commanding them to be saved. + +Milton was describing the scenes of the meeting to Bradley Talcott and +Douglas Radbourn the next day, and Radbourn, a young law student said: + +"I'd like to see him. He must be a character." + +"Let's make up a party and go out," said Milton, eagerly. + +"All right; I'll speak to Lily Graham." + +Accordingly, that evening a party of students, in a large sleigh, drove +out toward the school-house, along the drifted lanes and through the +beautiful aisles of the snowy woods. A merry party of young people, who +had no sense of sin to weigh them down. Even Radbourn and Lily joined in +the songs which they sang to the swift clanging of the bells, until the +lights of the school-house burned redly through the frosty air. + +Not a few of the older people present felt scandalized by the singing +and by the dancing of the "town girls," who could not for the life of +them take the thing seriously. The room was so little, and hot, and +smoky, and the men looked so queer in their rough coats and hair +every which-way. + +But they took their seats demurely on the back seat, and joined in the +opening songs, and listened to the halting prayers of the brethren and +the sonorous prayers of the Elder, with commendable gravity. Miss Graham +was a devout Congregationalist, and hushed the others into gravity when +their eyes began to dance dangerously. + +However, as Mr. Pill warmed to his work, the girls grew sober enough. He +awed them, and frightened them with the savagery of his voice and +manner. His small gray eyes were like daggers unsheathed, and his small, +round head took on a cat-like ferocity, as he strode to and fro, hurling +out his warnings and commands in a hoarse howl that terrified the +sinner, and drew 'amens' of admiration from the saints. + +"Atavism; he has gone back to the era of the medicine man," Radbourn +murmured. + +As the speaker went on, foam came upon his thin lips; his lifted hand +had prophecy and threatening in it. His eyes reflected flames; his voice +had now the tone of the implacable, vindictive judge. He gloated on the +pictures that his words called up. By the power of his imagination the +walls widened, the floor was no longer felt, the crowded room grew +still as death, every eye fixed on the speaker's face. + +"I tell you, you must repent or die. I can see the great judgment angel +now!" he said, stopping suddenly and pointing above the stove-pipe. "I +can see him as he stands weighing your souls as a man 'ud weigh wheat +and chaff. Wheat goes into the Father's garner; chaff is blown to hell's +devouring flame! I can see him _now_! He seizes a poor, damned, +struggling soul by the _neck_, he holds him over the flaming forge of +_hell_ till his bones melt like wax; he shrivels like thread in a flame +of a candle; he is nothing but a charred husk, and the angel flings him +back into _outer darkness_; life was not in him." + +It was this astonishing figure, powerfully acted, that scared poor Tom +Dixon into crying out for mercy. The effect on the rest was awful. To +see so great a sinner fall terror-stricken seemed like a providential +stroke of confirmatory evidence, and nearly a dozen other young people +fell crying. Whereat the old people burst out into amens with +unspeakable fervor. But the preacher, the wild light still in his eyes, +tore up and down, crying above the tumult: + +"The Lord is come with _power_! His hand is visible _here_. Shout +_aloud_ and spare _not_. Fall before him as _dust_ to his feet! +Hypocrites, vipers, scoffers! the _lash_ o' the _Lord_ is on ye!" + +In the intense pause which followed as he waited with expectant, +uplifted face--a pause so deep even the sobbing sinners held their +breath--a dry, drawling, utterly matter-of-fact voice broke the tense +hush. + +"S-a-y, Pill, ain't you a bearun' down on the boys a _leetle too_ hard?" + +The preacher's extended arm fell as if life had gone out of it. His face +flushed and paled; the people laughed hysterically, some of them the +tears of terror still on their cheeks; but Radbourn said, "Bravo, +Bacon!" + +Pill recovered himself. + +"Not hard enough for _you_, neighbor Bacon." + +Bacon rose, retaining the same dry, prosaic tone: + +"I ain't bitin' that kind of a hook, an' I ain't goin' to be _yanked_ +into heaven when I c'n _slide_ into hell. Waal! I must be goin'; I've +got a new-milk's cow that needs tendin' to." + +The effect of all this was indescribable. From being at the very mouth +of the furnace, quivering with fear and captive to morbid imaginings, +Bacon's dry intonation had brought them all back to earth again. They +saw a little of the absurdity of the whole situation. + +Pill was beaten for the first time in his life. He had been struck below +the belt by a good-natured giant. The best he could do, as Bacon +shuffled calmly out, was to stammer: "Will some one please sing?" And +while they sang, he stood in deep thought. Just as the last verse was +quivering into silence, the full, deep tones of Radbourn's voice rose +above the bustle of feet and clatter of seats: + +"And all _that_ he preaches in the name of Him who came bringing peace +and good-will to men." + +Radbourn's tone had in it reproach and a noble suggestion. The people +looked at him curiously. The deacons nodded their heads together in +counsel, and when they turned to the desk Pill was gone! + +"Gee whittaker! That was tough," said Milton to Radbourn; "knocked the +wind out o' him like a cannon-ball. What'll he do now? + +"He can't do anything but acknowledge his foolishness." + +"You no business t' come here an' 'sturb the Lord's meetin'," cried old +Daddy Brown to Radbourn. "You're a sinner and a scoffer." + +"I thought Bacon was the disturbing ele"---- + +"You're just as bad!" + +"He's all _right_," said William Councill. "I've got sick, m'self, of +bein' _scared_ into religion. I never was so fooled in a man in my life. +If I'd tell you what Pill said to me the other day, when we was in +Robie's store, you'd fall in a fit. An' to hear him talkin' here +t'night, is enough to make a horse laugh." + +"You're all in league with the devil," said the old man wildly; and so +the battle raged on. + +Milton and Radbourn escaped from it, and got out into the clear, cold, +untainted night. + +"The heat of the furnace don't reach as far as the horses," Radbourn +moralized, as he aided in unhitching the shivering team. "In the vast, +calm spaces of the stars, among the animals, such scenes as we have just +seen are impossible." He lifted his hand in a lofty gesture. The light +fell on his pale face and dark eyes. + +The girls were a little indignant and disposed to take the preacher's +part. They thought Bacon had no right to speak out that way, and Miss +Graham uttered her protest, as they whirled away on the homeward ride +with pleasant jangle of bells. + +"But the secret of it all was," said Radbourn in answer, "Pill knew he +was acting a part. I don't mean that he meant to deceive, but he got +excited, and his audience responded as an audience does to an actor of +the first class, and he was for the time in earnest; his imagination +_did_ see those horrors,--he was swept away by his own words. But when +Bacon spoke, his dry tone and homely words brought everybody, preacher +and all, back to the earth with a thump! Every body saw that, after +weeping and wailing there for an hour, they'd go home, feed the calves, +hang up the lantern, put out the cat, wind the clock, and go to bed. In +other words, they all came back out of their barbaric _powwow_ to their +natural modern selves." + +This explanation had palpable truth, but Lily had a dim feeling that it +had wider application than to the meeting they had just left. + +"They'll be music around this clearing to-morrow," said Milton, with a +sigh; "wish I was at home this week." + +"But what'll become of Mr. Pill?" + +"Oh, he'll come out all right," Radbourn assured her, and Milton's clear +tenor rang out as he drew Eileen closer to his side: + + "O silver moon, O silver moon, + You set, you set too soon-- + The morrow day is far away, + The night is but begun." + + + + +IV. + + +The news, grotesquely exaggerated, flew about the next day, and at +night, though it was very cold and windy, the house was jammed to +suffocation. On these lonely prairies life is so devoid of anything but +work, dramatic entertainments are so few, and appetite so keen, that a +temperature of twenty degrees below zero is no bar to a trip of ten +miles. The protracted meeting was the only recreation for many of them. +The gossip before and after service was a delight not to be lost, and +this last sensation was dramatic enough to bring out old men and women +who had not dared to go to church in winter for ten years. + +Long before seven o'clock, the school-house blazed with light and buzzed +with curious speech. Team after team drove up to the door, and as the +drivers leaped out to receive the women, they said in low but eager +tones to the bystanders: + +"Meeting begun yet?" + +"Nope!" + +"What kind of a time y' havin' over here, any way?" + +"A mighty solumn time," somebody would reply to a low laugh. + +By seven o'clock every inch of space was occupied; the air was +frightful. The kerosene lamps gave off gas and smoke, the huge stove +roared itself into an angry red on its jack-oak grubs, and still people +crowded in at the door. + +Discussion waxed hot as the stove; two or three Universalists boldly +attacked everybody who came their way. A tall man stood on a bench in +the corner, and, thumping his Bible wildly with his fist, exclaimed, at +the top of his voice: + +"There is _no_ hell at _all_! The Bible says the _wicked_ perish +_utterly_. They are _consumed_ as _ashes_ when they die. They _perish_ +as _dogs_!" + +"What kind o' docterin' is that?" asked a short man of Councill. + +"I d'know. It's ol' Sam Richards. Calls himself a +Christian--Christadelphian 'r some new-fangled name." + +At last people began to inquire, "Well, ain't he comin'?" + +"Most time f'r the Elder to come, ain't it?" + +"Oh, I guess he's preparin' a sermon." + +John Jennings pushed anxiously to Daddy Brown. + +"Ain't the Elder comin'?" + +"I d'know. He didn't stay at my house." + +"He didn't?" + +"No. Thought he went home with you." + +"I ain't see 'im 't all. I'll ask Councill. Brother Councill, seen +anything of the Elder?" + +"No. Didn't he go home with Bensen?" + +"I d'n know. I'll see." + +This was enough to start the news that "Pill had skipped." + +This the deacons denied, saying "he'd come or send word." + +Outside, on the leeward side of the house, the young men who couldn't +get in stood restlessly, now dancing a jig, now kicking their huge boots +against the underpinning to warm their toes. They talked spasmodically +as they swung their arms about their chests, speaking from behind their +huge buffalo-coat collars. + +The wind roared through the creaking oaks; the horses stirred +complainingly, the bells on their backs crying out querulously; the +heads of the fortunates inside were shadowed outside on the snow, and +the restless young men amused themselves betting on which head was +Bensen and which Councill. + +At last some one pounded on the desk inside. The suffocating but lively +crowd turned with painful adjustment toward the desk, from whence Deacon +Benson's high, smooth voice sounded: + +"Brethren an' sisters, Elder Pill hain't come--and, as it's about eight +o'clock, he probably won't come to-night. After the disturbances last +night, it's--a--a--we're all the more determined to--the--a--need of +reforming grace is more felt than ever. Let us hope nothing has happened +to the Elder. I'll go see to-morrow, and if he is unable to come--I'll +see Brother Wheat, of Cresco. After prayer by Brother Jennings, we will +adjourn till to-morrow night. Brother Jennings, will you lead us in +prayer?" (Some one snickered.) "I hope the disgraceful--a--scenes of +last night will not be repeated." + +"Where's Pill?" demanded a voice in the back part of the room. "That's +what I want to know." + +"He's a bad pill," said another, repeating a pun already old. + +"I guess so! He borrowed twenty dollars o' me last week," said the first +voice. + +"He owes me for a pig," shouted a short man, excitedly. "I believe he's +skipped to get rid o' his debts." + +"So do I. I allus said he was a mighty queer preacher." + +"He'd bear watchin' was my idee fust time I ever see him." + +"Careful, brethren--_careful_. He may come at any minute." + +"I don't care if he does. I'd bone him f'r pay f'r that shote, preacher +'r no preacher," said Bartlett, a little nervously. + +High words followed this, and there was prospect of a fight. The +pressure of the crowd, however, was so great it was well-nigh impossible +for two belligerents to get at each other. The meeting broke up at last, +and the people, chilly, soured, and disappointed at the lack of +developments, went home saying Pill was _scaly_; no preacher who chawed +terbacker was to be trusted; and when it was learned that the horse and +buggy he drove he owed Jennings and Bensen for, everybody said, "He's a +fraud." + + + + +V. + + +In the meantime, Andrew Pill was undergoing the most singular and awful +mental revolution. + +When he leaped blindly into his cutter and gave his horse the rein, he +was wild with rage and shame, and a sort of fear. As he sat with bent +head, he did not hear the tread of the horse, and did not see the trees +glide past. The rabbit leaped away under the shadow of the thick groves +of young oaks; the owl, scared from its perch, went fluttering off into +the cold, crisp air; but he saw only the contemptuous, quizzical face of +old William Bacon--one shaggy eyebrow lifted, a smile showing through +his shapeless beard. + +He saw the colorless, handsome face of Radbourn, with a look of reproach +and a note of suggestion--Radbourn, one of the best thinkers and +speakers in Rock River, and the most generally admired young man in Rock +County. + +When he saw and heard Bacon, his hurt pride flamed up in wrath, but the +calm voice of Radbourn, and the look in his stern, accusing eyes, made +his head fall in thought. As he rode, things grew clearer. As a matter +of fact, his whole system of religious thought was like the side of a +shelving sand-bank--in unstable equilibrium--needing only a touch to +send it slipping into a shapeless pile at the river's edge. That touch +had been given, and he was now in the midst of the motion of his falling +faith. He didn't know how much would stand when the sloughing ended. + +Andrew Pill had been a variety of things, a farmer, a dry-goods +merchant, and a traveling salesman, but in a revival quite like this of +his own, he had been converted and his life changed. He now desired to +help his fellow-men to a better life, and willingly went out among the +farmers, where pay was small. It was not true, therefore, that he had +gone into it because there was little work and good pay. He was really +an able man, and would have been a success in almost anything he +undertook; but his reading and thought, his easy intercourse with men +like Bacon and Radbourn, had long since undermined any real faith in the +current doctrine of retribution, and to-night, as he rode into the +night, he was feeling it all and suffering it all, forced to acknowledge +at last what had been long moving. + +The horse took the wrong road, and plodded along steadily, carrying him +away from his home, but he did not know it for a long time. When at last +he looked up and saw the road leading out upon the wide plain between +the belts of timber, leading away to Rock River, he gave a sigh of +relief. He could not meet his wife then; he must have a chance to think. + +Over him, the glittering, infinite sky of winter midnight soared, +passionless, yet accusing in its calmness, sweetness and majesty. What +was he that he could dogmatize on eternal life and the will of the Being +who stood behind that veil? And then would come rushing back that scene +in the school-house, the smell of the steaming garments, the gases from +the lamps, the roar of the stove, the sound of his own voice, strident, +dominating, so alien to his present mood, he could only shudder at it. + +He was worn out with the thinking when he drove into the stable at the +Merchants' House and roused up the sleeping hostler, who looked at him +suspiciously and demanded pay in advance. This seemed right in his +present mood. He was not to be trusted. + +When he flung himself face downward on his bed, the turmoil in his brain +was still going on. He couldn't hold one thought or feeling long; all +seemed slipping like water from his hands. + +He had in him great capacity for change, for growth. Circumstances had +been against his development thus far, but the time had come when growth +seemed to be defeat and failure. + + + + +VI. + + +Radbourn was thinking about him, two days after, as he sat in his friend +Judge Brown's law office, poring over a volume of law. He saw that +Bacon's treatment had been heroic; he couldn't get that pitiful +confusion of the preacher's face out of his mind. But, after all, +Bacon's seizing of just that instant was a stroke of genius. + +Some one touched him on the arm. + +"Why,--Elder,--Mr. Pill, how de do? Sit down. Draw up a chair." + +There was trouble in the preacher's face. "Can I see you, Radbourn, +alone?" + +"Certainly; come right into this room. No one will disturb us there." + +"Now, what can I do for you?" he said, as they sat down. + +"I want to talk with you about--about religion," said Pill, with a +little timid pause in his voice. + +Radbourn looked grave. "I'm afraid you've come to a dangerous man." + +"I want you to tell me what you think. I know you're a student. I want +to talk about my case," pursued the preacher, with a curious hesitancy. +"I want to ask a few questions on things." + +"Very well; sail in. I'll do the best I can," said Radbourn. + +"I've been thinking a good deal since that night. I've come to the +conclusion that I don't believe what I've been preaching. I thought I +did, but I didn't. I don't know _what_ I believe. Seems as if the land +had slid from under my feet. What am I to do?" + +"Say so," replied Radbourn, his eyes kindling. "Say so, and get out of +it. There's nothing worse than staying where you are. What have you +saved from the general land-slide?" + +Pill smiled a little. "I don't know." + +"Want me to cross-examine you and see, eh? Very well, here goes." He +settled back with a smile. "You believe in square dealing between man +and man?" + +"Certainly." + +"You believe in good deeds, candor and steadfastness?" + +"I do." + +"You believe in justice, equality of opportunity, and in liberty?" + +"Certainly I do." + +"You believe, in short, that a man should do unto others as he'd have +others do unto him; think right and live out his thoughts?" + +"All that I steadfastly believe." + +"Well, I guess your land-slide was mostly imaginary. The face of the +eternal rock is laid bare. You didn't recognize it at first, that's all. +One question more. You believe in truth?" + +"Certainly." + +"Well, truth is only found from the generalizations of facts. Before +calling a thing true, study carefully all accessible facts. Make your +religion practical. The matter-of-fact tone of Bacon would have had no +force if you had been preaching an earnest morality in place of an +antiquated terrorism." + +"I know it; I know it," sighed Pill, looking down. + +"Well, now, go back and tell 'em so. And then, if you can't keep your +place preaching what you do believe, get into something else. For the +sake of all morality and manhood, don't go on cursing yourself with +hypocrisy." + +Mr. Pill took a chew of tobacco, rather distractedly, and said: + +"I'd like to ask you a few questions." + +"No, not now. You think out your present position yourself. Find out +just what you have saved from your land-slide." + +The elder man rose; he hardly seemed the same man who had dominated his +people a few days before. He turned with still greater embarrassment. + +"I want to ask a favor. I'm going back to my family. I'm going to say +something of what you've said, to my congregation--but--I'm in debt--and +the moment they know I'm a backslider, they're going to bear down on me +pretty heavy. I'd like to be independent." + +"I see. How much do you need?" mused Radbourn. + +"I guess two hundred would stave off the worst of them." + +"I guess Brown and I can fix that. Come in again to-night. Or no, I'll +bring it round to you." + +The two men parted with a silent pressure of the hand that meant more +than any words. + +When Mr. Pill told his wife that he could preach no more, she cried, and +gasped, and scolded till she was in danger of losing her breath +entirely. "A guinea-hen sort of a woman" Councill called her. "She can +talk more an' say less'n any woman I ever see," was Bacon's verdict, +after she had been at dinner at his house. She was a perpetual irritant. + +Mr. Pill silenced her at last with a note of impatience approaching a +threat, and he drove away to the Corners to make his confession without +her. It was Saturday night, and Elder Wheat was preaching as he entered +the crowded room. A buzz and mumble of surprise stopped the orator for a +few moments, and he shook hands with Mr. Pill dubiously, not knowing +what to think of it all, but as he was in the midst of a very effective +oratorical scene, he went on. + +The silent man at his side felt as if he were witnessing a burlesque of +himself as he listened to the pitiless and lurid description of torment +which Elder Wheat poured forth--the same figures and threats he had used +a hundred times. He stirred uneasily in his seat, while the audience +paid so little attention that the perspiring little orator finally +called for a hymn, saying: + +"Elder Pill has returned from his unexpected absence, and will exhort in +his proper place." + +When the singing ended, Mr. Pill rose, looking more like himself than +since the previous Sunday. A quiet resolution was in his eyes and voice +as he said: + +"Elder Wheat has more right here than I have. I want 'o say that I'm +going to give up my church in Douglass and"----A murmur broke out, +which he silenced with his raised hand. "I find I don't believe any +longer what I've been believing and preaching. Hold on! let me go on. I +don't quite know where I'll bring up, but I think my religion will +simmer down finally to about this: A full half-bushel to the half-bushel +and sixteen ounces to the pound." Here two or three cheered. "Do unto +others as you'd have others do unto you." Applause from several, quickly +suppressed as the speaker went on, Elder Wheat listening as if +petrified, with his mouth open. + +"I'm going out of preaching, at least for the present. After things get +into shape with me again, I may set up to teach people how to live, but +just now I can't do it. I've got all I can do to instruct myself. Just +one thing more. I owe two or three of you here. I've got the money for +William Bacon, James Bartlett and John Jennings. I turn the mare and +cutter over to Jacob Bensen, for the note he holds. I hain't got much +religion left, but I've got some morality. That's all I want to say +now." + +When he sat down there was a profound hush; then Bacon arose. + +"That's _man's_ talk, that is! An' I jest want 'o say, Andrew Pill, that +you kin jest forgit you owe me anything. An' if ye want any help come to +me. Y're jest gittun' ready to preach, 'n' I'm ready to give ye my +support." + +"That's the talk," said Councill. "I'm with ye on that." + +Pill shook his head. The painful silence which followed was broken by +the effusive voice of Wheat: + +"Let us pray--and remember our lost brother." + + * * * * * + +The urgings of the people were of no avail. Mr. Pill settled up his +affairs, and moved to Cresco, where he went back into trade with a +friend, and for three years attended silently to his customers, lived +down their curiosity and studied anew the problem of life. Then he moved +away, and no one knew whither. + +One day, last year, Bacon met Jennings on the road. + +"Heerd anything o' Pill lately?" + +"No; have you?" + +"Waal, yes. Brown told me he ran acrost him down in Eelinoy, doun' well, +too." + +"In dry goods?" + +"No, preachun'." + +"Preachun'?" + +"So Brown said. Kind of a free-f'r-all church, I reckon from what Jedge +told me. Built a new church, fills it twice a Sunday. I'd like to hear +him, but he's got t' be too big a gun f'r us. Ben studyun', they say; +went t' school." + +Jennings drove sadly and thoughtfully on. + +"Rather stumps Brother Jennings," laughed Bacon, in his leonine +fashion. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART III. + + +WILLIAM BACON'S HIRED MAN: AND DAUGHTER MARIETTA. + + ... Love and youth pass swiftly: Love sings, + And April's sun fans warmer sunlight from his wings. + + +WILLIAM BACON'S MAN + +I. + + +The yellow March sun lay powerfully on the bare Iowa prairie, where the +plowed fields were already turning warm and brown, and only here and +there in a corner or on the north side of the fence did the sullen +drifts remain, and they were so dark and low that they hardly appeared +to break the mellow brown of the fields. + +There passed also an occasional flock of geese, cheerful harbingers of +spring, and the prairie-chickens had set up their morning symphony, +wide-swelling, wonderful with its prophecy of the new birth of grass and +grain and the springing life of all breathing things. The crow passed +now and then, uttering his resonant croak, but the crane had not yet +sent forth his bugle note. + +Lyman Gilman rested on his ax-helve at the wood-pile of Farmer Bacon to +listen to the music around him. In a vague way he was powerfully moved +by it. He heard the hens singing their weird, raucous, monotonous song, +and saw them burrowing in the dry chip-dust near him. He saw the young +colts and cattle frisking in the sunny space around the straw-stacks, +absorbed through his bare arms and uncovered head the heat of the sun, +and felt the soft wooing of the air so deeply that he broke into an +unwonted exclamation: + +"Glory! we'll be seeding by Friday, sure." + +This short and disappointing soliloquy was, after all, an expression of +deep emotion. To the Western farmer the very word "seeding" is a poem. +And these few words, coming from Lyman Gilman, meant more and expressed +more than many a large and ambitious spring-time song. + +But the glory of all the slumbrous landscape, the stately beauty of the +sky with its masses of fleecy vapor, were swept away by the sound of a +girl's voice humming, "Come to the Savior," while she bustled about the +kitchen near by. The windows were open. Ah! what suggestion to these +dwellers in a rigorous climate was in the first unsealing of the +windows! How sweet it was to the pale and weary women after their long +imprisonment! + +As Lyman sat down on his maple log to hear better, a plump face appeared +at the window, and a clear girl-voice said: + +"Smell anything, Lime?" + +He snuffed the air. "Cookies, by the great horn spoons!" he yelled, +leaping up. "Bring me some, an' see me eat; it'll do ye good." + +"Come an' get 'm," laughed the face at the window. + +"Oh, it's nicer out here, Merry Etty. What's the rush? Bring me out +some, an' set down on this log." + +With a nod Marietta disappeared, and soon came out with a plate of +cookies in one hand and a cup of milk in the other. + +"Poor little man, he's all tired out, ain't he?" + +Lime, taking the cue, collapsed in a heap, and said feebly, "Bread, +bread!" + +"Won't milk an' cookies do as well?" + +He brushed off the log and motioned her to sit down beside him, but she +hesitated a little and colored a little. + +"O Lime, s'pose somebody should see us?" + +"Let 'em. What in thunder do we care? Sit down an' gimme a holt o' them +cakes. I'm just about done up. I couldn't 'a' stood it another minute." + +She sat down beside him with a laugh and a pretty blush. She was in her +apron, and the sleeves of her dress were rolled to her elbows, +displaying the strong, round arms. Wholesome and sweet she looked and +smelled, the scent of the cooking round her. Lyman munched a couple of +the cookies and gulped a pint of milk before he spoke. + +"Whadda we care who sees us sittin' side b' side? Ain't we goin' t' be +married soon?" + +"Oh, them cookies in the oven!" she shrieked, leaping up and running to +the house. She looked back as she reached the kitchen door, however, and +smiled with a flushed face. Lime slapped his knee and roared with +laughter at his bold stroke. + +"Ho! ho!" he laughed. "Didn't I do it slick? Ain't nothin' green in _my_ +eye, I guess." In an intense and pleasurable abstraction he finished the +cookies and the milk. Then he yelled: + +"Hey! Merry--Merry Etty!" + +"Whadda ye want?" sang the girl from the window, her face still rosy +with confusion. + +"Come out here and git these things." + +The girl shook her head, with a laugh. + +"Come out an' git 'm, 'r by jingo I'll throw 'em at ye! Come on, now!" + +The girl looked at the huge, handsome fellow, the sun falling on his +golden hair and beard, and came slowly out to him--came creeping along +with her hand outstretched for the plate which Lime, with a laugh in his +sunny blue eyes, extended at the full length of his bare arm. The girl +made a snatch at it, but his left hand caught her by the wrist, and away +went cup and plate as he drew her to him and kissed her in spite of her +struggles. + +"My! ain't you strong!" she said, half-ruefully and half-admiringly, as +she shrugged her shoulders. "If you'd use a little more o' _that_ +choppin' wood, Dad wouldn't 'a' lost s' much money by yeh." + +Lime grew grave. + +"There's the hog in the fence, Merry; what's yer dad goin' t' say"---- + +"About what?" + +"About our gitt'n' married this spring." + +"I guess you'd better find out what _I'm_ a-goin' t' say, Lime Gilman, +'fore you pitch into Dad." + +"I _know_ what you're a-goin' t' say." + +"No, y' don't." + +"Yes, but I _do_, though." + +"Well, ask me, and see, if you think you're so smart. Jest as like 's +not, you'll slip up." + +"All right; here goes. Marietty Bacon, ain't you an' Lime Gilman goin' +t' be married?" + +"No, sir, we ain't," laughed the girl, snatching up the plate and +darting away to the house, where she struck up "Weevily Wheat," and went +busily on about her cooking. Lime threw a kiss at her, and fell to work +on his log with startling energy. + +Lyman looked forward to his interview with the old man with as much +trepidation as he had ever known, though commonly he had little fear of +anything--but a girl. + +Marietta was not only the old man's only child, his housekeeper, his +wife having at last succumbed to the ferocious toil of the farm. It was +reasonable to suppose, therefore, that he would surrender his claim on +the girl reluctantly. Rough as he was, he loved Marietta strongly, and +would find it exceedingly hard to get along without her. + +Lyman mused on these things as he drove the gleaming ax into the huge +maple logs. He was something more than the usual hired man, being a +lumberman from the Wisconsin pineries, where he had sold out his +interest in a camp not three weeks before the day he began work for +Bacon. He had a nice "little wad o' money" when he left the camp and +started for La Crosse, but he had been robbed in his hotel the first +night in the city, and was left nearly penniless. It was a great blow to +him, for, as he said, every cent of that money "stood fer hard knocks +an' poor feed. When I smelt of it I could jest see the cold, frosty +mornin's and the late nights. I could feel the hot sun on my back like +it was when I worked in the harvest-field. By jingo! It kind o' made my +toes curl up." + +But he went resolutely out to work again, and here he was chopping wood +in old man Bacon's yard, thinking busily on the talk which had just +passed between him and Marietta. + +"By jingo!" he said all at once, stopping short, with the ax on his +shoulder. "If I hadn't 'a' been robbed I wouldn't 'a' come here--I +never'd met Merry. Thunder and jimson root! Wasn't that a narrow +escape?" + +And then he laughed so heartily that the girl looked out of the window +again to see what in the world he was doing. He had his hat in his hand +and was whacking his thigh with it. + +"Lyman Gilman, what in the world ails you to-day? It's perfectly +ridiculous the way you yell and talk t' y'rself out there on the chips. +You beat the hens, I declare if you don't." + +Lime put on his hat and walked up to the window, and, resting his great +bare arms on the sill, and his chin on his arms, said: + +"Merry, I'm goin' to tackle 'Dad' this afternoon. He'll be settin' up +the new seeder, and I'm goin' t' climb right on the back of his neck. +He's jest _got_ t' give me a chance." + +Marietta looked sober in sympathy. + +"Well! P'raps it's best to have it over with, Lime, but someway I feel +kind o' scary about it." + +Lime stood for a long time looking in at the window, watching the +light-footed girl as she set the table in the middle of the sun-lighted +kitchen floor. The kettle hissed, the meat sizzled, sending up a +delicious odor; a hen stood in the open door and sang a sort of cheery +half-human song, while to and fro moved the sweet-faced, lithe and +powerful girl, followed by the smiling eyes at the window. + +"Merry, you look purty as a picture. You look just like the wife I be'n +a-huntin' for all these years, sure 's shootin'." + +Marietta colored with pleasure. + +"Does Dad pay you to stand an' look at me an' say pretty things t' the +cook?" + +"No, he don't. But I'm willin' t' do it without pay. I could jest stand +here till kingdom come an' look at you. Hello! I hear a wagon. I guess I +better hump into that wood-pile." + +"I think so, too. Dinner's most ready, and Dad 'll be here soon." + +Lime was driving away furiously at a tough elm log when Farmer Bacon +drove into the yard with a new seeder in his wagon. Lime whacked away +busily while Bacon stabled the team, and in a short time Marietta +called, in a long-drawn, musical fashion: + +"Dinner-r-r!" + +After sozzling their faces at the well the two men went in and sat down +at the table. Bacon was not much of a talker at any time, and at +mealtime, in seeding, eating was the main business in hand; therefore +the meal was a silent one, Marietta and Lime not caring to talk on +general topics. The hour was an anxious one for her, and an important +one for him. + +"Wal, now, Lime, seedun' 's the nex' thing," said Bacon, as he shoved +back his chair and glared around from under his bushy eyebrows. "We +can't do too much this afternoon. That seeder's got t' be set up an' a +lot o' seed-wheat cleaned up. You unload the machine while I feed the +pigs." + +Lime sat still till the old man was heard outside calling "Oo-ee, +poo-ee" to the pigs in the yard; then he smiled at Marietta, but she +said: + +"He's got on one of his fits, Lime; I don't b'lieve you'd better tackle +him t'-day." + +"Don't you worry; I'll fix him. Come, now, give me a kiss." + +"Why, you great thing! You--took"---- + +"I know, but I want you to _give_ 'em to me. Just walk right up to me +an' give me a smack t' bind the bargain." + +"I ain't made any bargain," laughed the girl. Then, feeling the force of +his tender tone, she added: "Will you behave, and go right off to your +work?" + +"Jest like a little man--hope t' die!" + +"_Lime!_" roared the old man from the barn. + +"Hello!" replied Lime, grinning joyously and winking at the girl, as +much as to say, "This would paralyze the old man if he saw it." + +He went out to the shed where Bacon was at work, as serene as if he had +not a fearful task on hand. He was apprehensive that the father might +"gig back" unless rightly approached, and so he awaited a good +opportunity. + +The right moment seemed to present itself along about the middle of the +afternoon. Bacon was down on the ground under the machine, tightening +some burrs. This was a good chance for two reasons. In the first place +the keen, almost savage eyes of Bacon were no longer where they could +glare on him, and in spite of his cool exterior Lime had just as soon +not have the old man looking at him. + +Besides, the old farmer had been telling about his "river eighty," which +was without a tenant; the man who had taken it, having lost his wife, +had grown disheartened and had given it up. + +"It's an almighty good chance for a man with a small family. Good house +an' barn, good land. A likely young feller with a team an' a woman could +do tip-top on that eighty. If he wanted more, I'd let him have an eighty +j'inun'"---- + +"I'd like t' try that m'self," said Lime, as a feeler. The old fellow +said nothing in reply for a moment. + +"Ef you had a team an' tools an' a woman, I'd jest as lief you'd have it +as anybody." + +"Sell me your blacks, and I'll pay half down--the balance in the fall. I +can pick up some tools, and as for a woman, Merry Etty an' me have +talked that over to-day. She's ready to--ready to marry me whenever you +say go." + +There was an ominous silence under the seeder, as if the father could +not believe his ears. + +"What's--what's that?" he stuttered. "Who'd you say? What about Merry +Etty?" + +"She's agreed to marry me." + +"The hell you say!" roared Bacon, as the truth burst upon him. "So +that's what you do when I go off to town and leave you to chop wood. So +you're goun' to git married, hey?" + +He was now where Lime could see him, glaring up into his smiling blue +eyes. Lime stood his ground. + +"Yes, sir. That's the calculation." + +"Well, I guess I'll have somethin' t' say about that," nodding his head +violently. + +"I rather expected y' would. Blaze away. Your privilege--my bad luck. +Sail in, ol' man. What's y'r objection to me fer a son-in-law?" + +"Don't you worry, young feller. I'll come at it soon enough," went on +Bacon, as he turned up another burr in a very awkward corner. In his +nervous excitement the wrench slipped, banging his knuckle. + +"Ouch! Thunder--m-m-m!" howled and snarled the wounded man. + +"What's the matter? Bark y'r knuckle?" queried Lime, feeling a mighty +impulse to laugh. But when he saw the old savage straighten up and glare +at him he sobered. Bacon was now in a frightful temper. The veins in his +great, bare, weather-beaten neck swelled dangerously. + +"Jest let me say right here that I've had enough o' you. You can't live +on the same acre with my girl another day." + +"What makes ye think I can't?" It was now the young man's turn to draw +himself up, and as he faced the old man, his arms folded and each vast +hand grasping an elbow, he looked like a statue of red granite, and the +hands resembled the paws of a crouching lion; but his eyes smiled. + +"I don't _think_, I know ye won't." + +"What's the objection to me?" + +"Objection? Hell! What's the inducement? My hired man, an' not three +shirts to yer back!" + +"That's another; I've got four. Say, old man, did you ever work out for +a living?" + +"That's none o' your business," growled Bacon, a little taken down. +"I've worked, an' scraped, an' got t'gether a little prop'ty here, an' +they ain't no sucker like you goun' to come 'long here, an' live off me, +an' spend my prop'ty after I'm dead. You can jest bet high on that." + +"Who's goin' t' live on ye?" + +"You're aimun' to." + +"I ain't, neither." + +"Yes, y'are. You've loafed on me ever since I hired ye." + +"That's a"----Lime checked himself for Marietta's sake, and the enraged +father went on: + +"I hired ye t' cut wood, an' you've gone an' fooled my daughter away +from me. Now you jest figger up what I owe ye, and git out o' here. Ye +can't go too soon t' suit _me_." + +Bacon was renowned as the hardest man in Cedar County to handle, and +though he was getting old, he was still a terror to his neighbors when +roused. He was honest, temperate, and a good neighbor until something +carried him off his balance; then he became as cruel as a panther and as +savage as a grizzly. All this Lime knew, but it did not keep his anger +down so much as did the thought of Marietta. His silence infuriated +Bacon, who yelled hoarsely: + +"Git out o' this!" + +"Don't be in a rush, ol' man"---- + +Bacon hurled himself upon Lime, who threw out one hand and stopped him, +while he said in a low voice: + +"Stay right where you are, ol' man. I'm dangerous. It's for Merry's +sake"---- + +The infuriated old man struck at him. Lime warded off the blow, and with +a sudden wrench and twist threw him to the ground with frightful force. +Before Bacon could rise, Marietta, who had witnessed the scene, came +flying from the house. + +"Lime! Father! What are you doing?" + +"I--couldn't help it, Merry. It was him 'r me," said Lime, almost +sadly. + +"Dad, ain't you got no sense? What 're you thinking of? You jest stop +right now. I won't have it." + +He rose while she clung to him; he seemed a little dazed. It was the +first time he had ever been thrown, and he could not but feel a certain +respect for his opponent, but he could not give way. + +"Pack up yer duds," he snarled, "an' git off'n my land. I'll have the +money fer ye when ye come back. I'll give ye jest five minutes to git +clear o' here. Merry, you stay here." + +The young man saw it was useless to remain, as it would only excite the +old man; and so, with a look of apology, not without humor, at Marietta, +he went to the house to get his valise. The girl wept silently while the +father raged up and down. His mood frightened her. + +"I thought you had more sense than t' take up with such a dirty houn'." + +"He ain't a houn'," she blazed forth, "and he's just as good and clean +as you are." + +"Shut up! Don't let me hear another word out o' your head. I'm boss here +yet, I reckon." + +Lime came out with his valise in his hand. + +"Good-by, Merry," he said cheerily. She started to go to him, but her +father's rough grasp held her. + +"Set _down_, an' stay there." + +Lime was going out of the gate. + +"Here! Come and get y'r money," yelled the old man, extending some +bills. "Here's twenty"----- + +"Go to thunder with your money," retorted Lime. "I've had my pay for my +month's work." As he said that, he thought of the sunny kitchen and the +merry girl, and his throat choked. Good-by to the sweet girl whose smile +was so much to him, and to the happy noons and nights her eyes had made +for him. He waved his hat at her as he stood in the open gate, and the +sun lighted his handsome head into a sort of glory in her eyes. Then he +turned and walked rapidly off down the road, not looking back. + +The girl, when she could no longer see him, dashed away, and, sobbing +violently, entered the house. + + + + +II. + + +There was just a suspicion of light in the east, a mere hint of a glow, +when Lyman walked cautiously around the corner of the house and tapped +at Marietta's window. She was sleeping soundly and did not hear, for she +had been restless during the first part of the night. He tapped again, +and the girl woke without knowing what woke her. + +Lyman put the blade of his pocket-knife under the window and raised it +a little, and then placed his lips to the crack, and spoke in a +sepulchral tone, half groan, half whisper: + +"Merry! Merry Etty!" + +The dazed girl sat up in bed and listened, while her heart almost stood +still. + +"Merry, it's me--Lime. Come to the winder." The girl hesitated, and +Lyman spoke again. + +"Come, I hain't got much time. This is your last chance t' see me. It's +now 'r never." + +The girl slipped out of bed and, wrapping herself in a shawl, crept to +the window. + +"Boost on that winder," commanded Lyman. She raised it enough to admit +his head, which came just above the sill; then she knelt on the floor by +the window. + +Her eyes stared wide and dark. + +"Lime, what in the world do you mean"---- + +"I mean business," he replied. "I ain't no last year's chicken; I know +when the old man sleeps the soundest." He chuckled pleasantly. + +"How 'd y' fool old Rove?" + +"Never mind about that now; they's something more important on hand. +You've got t' go with me." + +She drew back. "Oh, Lime, I can't!" + +He thrust a great arm in and caught her by the wrist. + +"Yes, y' can. This is y'r last chance. If I go off without ye t-'night, +I never come back. What make ye gig back? Are ye 'fraid o' me?" + +"N-no; but--but"---- + +"But what, Merry Etty?" + +"It ain't right to go an' leave Dad all alone. Where y' goin' t' take +me, anyhow?" + +"Milt Jennings let me have his horse an' buggy; they're down the road a +piece, an' we'll go right down to Rock River and be married by sun-up." + +The girl still hesitated, her firm, boyish will unwontedly befogged. +Resolute as she was, she could not at once accede to his demand. + +"Come, make up your mind soon. The old man 'll fill me with buck-shot if +he catches sight o' me." He drew her arm out of the window and laid his +bearded cheek to it. "Come, little one, we're made for each other; God +knows it. Come! It's him 'r me." + +The girl's head dropped, consented. + +"That's right! Now a kiss to bind the bargain. There! What, cryin'? No +more o' that, little one. Now I'll give you jest five minutes to git on +your Sunday-go-t'-meetin' clo'es. Quick, there goes a rooster. It's +gittin' white in the east." + +The man turned his back to the window and gazed at the western sky with +a wealth of unuttered and unutterable exultation in his heart. Far off a +rooster gave a long, clear blast--would it be answered in the barn? +Yes; some wakeful ear had caught it, and now came the answer, but faint, +muffled and drowsy. The dog at his feet whined uneasily as if suspecting +something wrong. The wind from the south was full of the wonderful odor +of springing grass, warm, brown earth, and oozing sap. Overhead, to the +west, the stars were shining in the cloudless sky, dimmed a little in +brightness by the faint silvery veil of moisture in the air. The man's +soul grew very tender as he stood waiting for his bride. He was rough, +illiterate, yet there was something fine about him after all, a kind of +simplicity and a gigantic, leonine tenderness. + +He heard his sweetheart moving about inside, and thought: "The old man +won't hold out when he finds we're married. He can't get along without +her. If he does, why, I'll rent a farm here, and we'll go to work +housekeepin'. I can git the money. She sha'n't always be poor," he +ended, with a vow. + +The window was raised again, and the girl's voice was heard low and +tremulous: + +"Lime, I'm ready, but I wish we didn't"---- + +He put his arm around her waist and helped her out, and did not put her +down till they reached the road. She was completely dressed, even to her +hat and shoes, but she mourned: + +"My hair is every-which-way; Lime, how can I be married so?" + +They were nearing the horse and buggy now, and Lime laughed. "Oh, we'll +stop at Jennings's and fix up. Milt knows what's up, and has told his +mother by this time. So just laugh as jolly as you can." + +Soon they were in the buggy, the impatient horse swung into the road at +a rattling pace, and as Marietta leaned back in the seat, thinking of +what she had done, she cried lamentably, in spite of all the caresses +and pleadings of her lover. + +But the sun burst up from the plain, the prairie-chickens took up their +mighty chorus on the hills, robins met them on the way, flocks of wild +geese, honking cheerily, drove far overhead toward the north, and, with +these sounds of a golden spring day in her ears, the bride grew +cheerful, and laughed. + + +III. + +At about the time the sun was rising, Farmer Bacon, roused from his +sleep by the crowing of the chickens on the dry knolls in the fields as +well as by those in the barnyard, rolled out of bed wearily, wondering +why he should feel so drowsy. Then he remembered the row with Lime and +his subsequent inability to sleep with thinking over it. There was a +dull pain in his breast, which made him uncomfortable. + +As was his usual custom, he went out into the kitchen and built the fire +for Marietta, filled the tea-kettle with water, and filled the +water-bucket in the sink. Then he went to her bed-room door and knocked +with his knuckles as he had done for years in precisely the same +fashion. + +Rap--rap--rap. "Hello, Merry! Time t' git up. Broad daylight, an' birds +a-singun'." + +Without waiting for an answer he went out to the barn and worked away at +his chores. He took such delight in the glorious morning and the +turbulent life of the farmyard that his heart grew light and he hummed a +tune which sounded like the merry growl of a lion. "Poo-ee, poo-ee," he +called to the pigs as they swarmed across the yard. + +"Ahrr! you big, fat rascals, them hams o' yourn is clear money. One of +ye shall go t' buy Merry a new dress," he said as he glanced at the +house and saw the smoke pouring out the stove-pipe. "Merry 's a good +girl; she's stood by her old pap when other girls 'u'd 'a' gone back on +'im." + +While currying horses he went all over the ground of the quarrel +yesterday, and he began to see it in a different light. He began to see +that Lyman was a good man and an able man, and that his own course was a +foolish one. + +"When I git mad," he confessed to himself, "I don't know anythin'. But +I won't give her up. She ain't old 'nough t' marry yet--and, besides, I +need her." + +After finishing his chores, as usual, he went to the well and washed his +face and hands, then entered the kitchen--to find the tea-kettle boiling +over, and no signs of breakfast anywhere, and no sign of the girl. + +"Well, I guess she felt sleepy this mornin'. Poor gal! Mebbe she cried +half the night." + +"Merry!" he called, gently, at the door. "Merry, m' gal! Pap needs his +breakfast." + +There was no reply, and the old man's face stiffened into a wild +surprise. He knocked heavily again and got no reply, and, with a white +face and shaking hand, he flung the door open and gazed at the empty +bed. His hand dropped to his side; his head turned slowly from the bed +to the open window; he rushed forward and looked out on the ground, +where he saw the tracks of a man. + +He fell heavily into the chair by the bed, while a deep groan broke from +his stiff and twitching lips. + +"She's left me! She's left me!" + +For a long half-hour the iron-muscled old man sat there motionless, +hearing not the songs of the hens or the birds far out in the brilliant +sunshine. He had lost sight of his farm, his day's work, and felt no +hunger for food. He did not doubt that her going was final. He felt +that she was gone from him forever. If she ever came back it would not +be as his daughter, but as the wife of Gilman. She had deserted him, +fled in the night like a thief; his heart began to harden again, and he +rose stiffly. His native stubbornness began to assert itself, the first +great shock over, and he went out to the kitchen, and prepared, as best +he could, a breakfast, and sat down to it. In some way his appetite +failed him, and he fell to thinking over his past life, of the death of +his wife, and the early death of his only boy. He was still trying to +think what his life would be in the future without his girl, when two +carriages drove into the yard. It was about the middle of the forenoon, +and the prairie-chickens had ceased to boom and squawk; in fact, that +was why he knew that he had been sitting two hours at the table. Before +he could rise he heard swift feet and a merry voice. Then Marietta burst +through the door. + +"Hello, Pap! How you makin' out with break"----She saw a look on his +face that went to her heart like a knife. She saw a lonely and deserted +old man sitting at his cold and cheerless breakfast, and with a +remorseful cry she ran across the floor and took him in her arms, +kissing him again and again, while Mr. John Jennings and his wife stood +in the door. + +"Poor ol' Pap! Merry couldn't leave you. She's come back to stay as long +as he lives." + +The old man remained cold and stern. His deep voice had a raucous note +in it as he pushed her away from him, noticing no one else. + +"But how do you come back t' me?" + +The girl grew rosy, but she stood proudly up. + +"I come back a wife of a _man_, Pap; a wife like my mother, an' this t' +hang beside hers;" and she laid down a rolled piece of parchment. + +"Take it an' go," growled he; "take yer lazy lubber an' git out o' my +sight. I raised ye, took keer o' ye when ye was little, sent ye t' +school, bought ye dresses,--done everythin' for ye I could, 'lowin' t' +have ye stand by me when I got old,--but no, ye must go back on yer ol' +pap, an' go off in the night with a good-f'r-nothin' houn' that nobuddy +knows anything about--a feller that never done a thing fer ye in the +world"---- + +"What did you do for mother that she left _her_ father and mother and +went with you? How much did you have when you took her away from her +good home an' brought her away out here among the wolves an' Indians? +I've heard you an' her say a hundred times that you didn't have a chair +in the house. Now, why do you talk so t' me when I want t' git--when +Lime comes and asks for me?" + +The old man was staggered. He looked at the smiling face of John +Jennings and the tearful face of Mrs. Jennings, who had returned with +Lyman. But his face hardened again as he caught sight of Lime looking in +at him. His absurd pride would not let him relent. Lime saw it, and +stepped forward. + +"Ol' man, I want t' take a little inning now. I'm a fair, square man. I +asked ye fer Merry as a man should. I told you I'd had hard luck, when I +first came here. I had five thousand dollars in clean cash stole from +me. I hain't got a thing now except credit, but that's good fer enough +t' stock a little farm with. Now, I wan' to be fair and square in this +thing. You wan' to rent a farm; I need one. Let me have the river +eighty, or I'll take the whole business on a share of a third an' Merry +Etty, and I to stay here with you jest as if nothin' 'd happened. Come, +now, what d' y' say?" + +There was something winning in the whole bearing of the man as he stood +before the father, who remained silent and grim. + +"Or if you don't do that, why, there's nothin' left fer Merry an' me but +to go back to La Crosse, where I can have my choice of a dozen farms. +Now this is the way things is standin'. I don't want to be underhanded +about this thing"---- + +"That's a fair offer," said Mr. Jennings in the pause which followed. +"You'd better do it, neighbor Bacon. Nobuddy need know how things +stood; they were married in my house--I thought that 'u'd be best. You +can't live without your girl," he went on, "any more 'n I could without +my boy. You'd better"---- + +The figure at the table straightened up. Under his tufted eyebrows his +keen gray eyes flashed from one to the other. His hands knotted. + +"Go slow!" went on the smooth voice of Jennings, known all the country +through as a peace-maker. "Take time t' think it over. Stand out, an' +you'll live here alone without chick 'r child; give in, and this house +'ll bubble over with noise and young ones. Now is short, and forever's a +long time to feel sorry in." + +The old man at the table knitted his eyebrows, and a distorted, +quivering, ghastly smile broke out on his face. His chest heaved; then +he burst forth: + +"Gal, yank them gloves off, an' git me something to eat--breakfus 'r +dinner, I don't care which. Lime, you infernal idiot, git out there and +gear up them horses. What in thunder you foolun' around about hyere in +seed'n'? Come, hustle, all o' ye!" + +And then they shouted in laughter, while the cause of it all strode +unsteadily but resolutely out toward the barn, followed by the +bridegroom, who was laughing--silently. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART IV. + +SIM BURNS'S WIFE: A PRAIRIE HEROINE. + + A tale of toil that's never done I tell; + Of life where love's a fleeting wing + Above the woman's hopeless hell + Of ceaseless, year-round journeying. + + +SIM BURNS'S WIFE. + +I. + + +Lucretia Burns had never been handsome, even in her days of early +girlhood, and now she was middle-aged, distorted with work and +child-bearing, and looking faded and worn as one of the boulders that +lay beside the pasture fence near where she sat milking a large white +cow. + +She had no shawl or hat and no shoes, for it was still muddy in the +little yard, where the cattle stood patiently fighting the flies and +mosquitoes swarming into their skins, already wet with blood. The +evening was oppressive with its heat, and a ring of just-seen +thunder-heads gave premonitions of an approaching storm. + +She rose from the cow's side at last, and, taking her pails of foaming +milk, staggered toward the gate. The two pails hung from her lean arms, +her bare feet slipped on the filthy ground, her greasy and faded calico +dress showed her tired, swollen ankles, and the mosquitoes swarmed +mercilessly on her neck and bedded themselves in her colorless hair. + +The children were quarreling at the well, and the sound of blows could +be heard. Calves were querulously calling for their milk, and little +turkeys, lost in a tangle of grass, were piping plaintively. + +The sun just setting struck through a long, low rift like a boy peeping +beneath the eaves of a huge roof. Its light brought out Lucretia's face +as she leaned her sallow forehead on the top bar of the gate and looked +toward the west. + +It was a pitifully worn, almost tragic face--long, thin, sallow, +hollow-eyed. The mouth had long since lost the power to shape itself +into a kiss, and had a droop at the corners which seemed to announce a +breaking-down at any moment into a despairing wail. The collarless neck +and sharp shoulders showed painfully. + +She felt vaguely that the night was beautiful. The setting sun, the +noise of frogs, the nocturnal insects beginning to pipe--all in some way +called her girlhood back to her, though there was little in her girlhood +to give her pleasure. Her large gray eyes grew round, deep and wistful +as she saw the illimitable craggy clouds grow crimson, roll slowly up, +and fire at the top. A childish scream recalled her. + +"Oh, my soul!" she half groaned, half swore, as she lifted her milk and +hurried to the well. Arriving there, she cuffed the children right and +left with all her remaining strength, saying in justification: + +"My soul! can't you--you young 'uns give me a minute's peace? Land +knows, I'm almost gone up; washin', an' milkin' six cows, and tendin' +you, and cookin' f'r _him_, ought 'o be enough f'r one day! Sadie, you +let him drink now 'r I'll slap your head off, you hateful thing! Why +can't you behave, when you know I'm jest about dead?" She was weeping +now, with nervous weakness. "Where's y'r pa?" she asked after a moment, +wiping her eyes with her apron. + +One of the group, the one cuffed last, sniffed out, in rage and grief: + +"He's in the cornfield; where'd ye s'pose he was?" + +"Good land! why don't the man work all night? Sile, you put that dipper +in that milk agin, an' I'll whack you till your head'll swim! Sadie, le' +go Pet, an' go 'n get them turkeys out of the grass 'fore it gits dark! +Bob, you go tell y'r dad if he wants the rest o' them cows milked he's +got 'o do it himself. I jest can't, and what's more, I _won't_," she +ended, rebelliously. + +Having strained the milk and fed the children, she took some skimmed +milk from the cans and started to feed the calves bawling strenuously +behind the barn. The eager and unruly brutes pushed and struggled to get +into the pails all at once, and in consequence spilt nearly all of the +milk on the ground. This was the last trial; the woman fell down on the +damp grass and moaned and sobbed like a crazed thing. The children came +to seek her and stood around like little partridges, looking at her in +scared silence, till at last the little one began to wail. Then the +mother rose wearily to her feet, and walked slowly back toward the +house. + +She heard Burns threshing his team at the well, with the sound of oaths. +He was tired, hungry and ill-tempered, but she was too desperate to +care. His poor, overworked team did not move quickly enough for him, and +his extra long turn in the corn had made him dangerous. His eyes gleamed +wrathfully from his dust-laid face. + +"Supper ready?" he growled. + +"Yes, two hours ago." + +"Well, I can't help it!" he said, understanding her reproach. "That +devilish corn is gettin' too tall to plow again, and I've got 'o go +through it to-morrow or not at all. Cows milked?" + +"Part of 'em." + +"How many left?" + +"Three." + +"Hell! Which three?" + +"Spot, and Brin, and Cherry." + +"_Of_ course, left the three worst ones. I'll be damned if I milk a cow +to-night. I don't see why you play out jest the nights I need ye most." +Here he kicked a child out of the way. "Git out o' that! Hain't you got +no sense? I'll learn ye"---- + +"Stop that, Sim Burns," cried the woman, snatching up the child. "You're +a reg'lar ol' hyeny,--that's what you are," she added defiantly, roused +at last from her lethargy. + +"You're a--beauty, that's what _you_ are," he said, pitilessly. "Keep +your brats out f'um under my feet." And he strode off to a barn after +his team, leaving her with a fierce hate in her heart. She heard him +yelling at his team in their stalls: "Git around there, damn yeh." + +The children had had their supper; so she took them to bed. She was +unusually tender to them, for she wanted to make up in some way for her +previous harshness. The ferocity of her husband had shown up her own +petulant temper hideously, and she sat and sobbed in the darkness a long +time beside the cradle where little Pet slept. + +She heard Burns come growling in and tramp about, but she did not rise. +The supper was on the table; he could wait on himself. There was an +awful feeling at her heart as she sat there and the house grew quiet. +She thought of suicide in a vague way; of somehow taking her children in +her arms and sinking into a lake somewhere, where she would never more +be troubled, where she could sleep forever, without toil or hunger. + +Then she thought of the little turkeys wandering in the grass, of the +children sleeping at last, of the quiet, wonderful stars. Then she +thought of the cows left unmilked, and listened to them stirring +uneasily in the yard. She rose, at last, and stole forth. She could not +rid herself of the thought that they would suffer. She knew what the +dull ache in the full breasts of a mother was, and she could not let +them stand at the bars all night moaning for relief. + +The mosquitoes had gone, but the frogs and katydids still sang, while +over in the west Venus shone. She was a long time milking the cows; her +hands were so tired she had often to stop and rest them, while the tears +fell unheeded into the pail. She saw and felt little of the external as +she sat there. She thought in vague retrospect of how sweet it seemed +the first time Sim came to see her; of the many rides to town with him +when he was an accepted lover; of the few things he had given her--a +coral breastpin and a ring. + +She felt no shame at her present miserable appearance; she was past +personal pride. She hardly felt as if the tall, strong girl, attractive +with health and hope, could be the same soul as the woman who now sat in +utter despair listening to the heavy breathing of the happy cows, +grateful for the relief from their burden of milk. + +She contrasted her lot with that of two or three women that she knew +(not a very high standard), who kept hired help, and who had fine houses +of four or five rooms. Even the neighbors were better off than she, for +they didn't have such quarrels. But she wasn't to blame--Sim didn't---- +Then her mind changed to a dull resentment against "things." Everything +seemed against her. + +She rose at last and carried her second load of milk to the well, +strained it, washed out the pails, and, after bathing her tired feet in +a tub that stood there, she put on a pair of horrible shoes, without +stockings, and crept stealthily into the house. Sim did not hear her as +she slipped up the stairs to the little low, unfinished chamber beside +her oldest children. She could not bear to sleep near _him_ that +night,--she wanted a chance to sob herself to quiet. + +As for Sim, he was a little disturbed, but would as soon have cut off +his head as acknowledge himself in the wrong. As he went to bed, and +found her still away, he yelled up the stairway: + +"Say, o' woman, ain't ye comin' to bed?" Upon receiving no answer he +rolled his aching body into the creaking bed. "Do as y' damn please +about it. If y' want to sulk y' can." And in such wise the family grew +quiet in sleep, while the moist, warm air pulsed with the ceaseless +chime of the crickets. + + + + +II. + + +When Sim Burns woke the next morning he felt a sharper twinge of +remorse. It was not a broad or well-defined feeling--just a sense that +he had been unduly irritable, not that on the whole he was not in the +right. Little Pet lay with the warm June sunshine filling his baby eyes, +curiously content in striking at flies that buzzed around his little +mouth. + +The man thrust his dirty, naked feet into his huge boots, and, without +washing his face or combing his hair, went out to the barn to do his +chores. + +He was a type of the average prairie farmer, and his whole surrounding +was typical of the time. He had a quarter-section of fine level land, +bought with incredible toil, but his house was a little box-like +structure, costing, perhaps, five hundred dollars. It had three rooms +and the ever-present summer kitchen attached to the back. It was +unpainted and had no touch of beauty--a mere box. + +His stable was built of slabs and banked and covered with straw. It +looked like a den, was low and long, and had but one door in the end. +The cow-yard held ten or fifteen cattle of various kinds, while a few +calves were bawling from a pen near by. Behind the barn, on the west and +north, was a fringe of willows forming a "wind-break." A few broken and +discouraged fruit trees standing here and there among the weeds formed +the garden. In short, he was spoken of by his neighbors as "a +hard-working cuss, and tol'ably well fixed." + +No grace had come or ever could come into his life. Back of him were +generations of men like himself, whose main business had been to work +hard, live miserably, and beget children to take their places when they +died. + +His courtship had been delayed so long on account of poverty that it +brought little of humanizing emotion into his life. He never mentioned +his love-life now, or if he did, it was only to sneer obscenely at it. +He had long since ceased to kiss his wife or even speak kindly to her. +There was no longer any sanctity to life or love. He chewed tobacco and +toiled on from year to year without any very clearly defined idea of the +future. His life was mainly regulated from without. + +He was tall, dark and strong, in a flat-chested, slouching sort of way, +and had grown neglectful of even decency in his dress. He wore the +American farmer's customary outfit of rough brown pants, hickory shirt +and greasy wool hat. It differed from his neighbors' mainly in being a +little dirtier and more ragged. His grimy hands were broad and strong as +the clutch of a bear, and he was a "terrible feller to turn off work," +as Councill said. "I 'druther have Sim Burns work for me one day than +some men three. He's a linger." He worked with unusual speed this +morning, and ended by milking all the cows himself as a sort of savage +penance for his misdeeds the previous evening, muttering in +self-defense: + +"Seems 's if ever' cussid thing piles on to me at once. That corn, the +road-tax, and hayin' comin' on, and now _she_ gits her back up"---- + +When he went back to the well he sloshed himself thoroughly in the +horse-trough and went to the house. He found breakfast ready, but his +wife was not in sight. The older children were clamoring around the +uninviting breakfast table, spread with cheap ware and with boiled +potatoes and fried salt pork as the principal dishes. + +"Where's y'r ma?" he asked, with a threatening note in his voice, as he +sat down by the table. + +"She's in the bed-room." + +He rose and pushed open the door. The mother sat with the babe in her +lap, looking out of the window down across the superb field of timothy, +moving like a lake of purple water. She did not look around. She only +grew rigid. Her thin neck throbbed with the pulsing of blood to her +head. + +"What's got into you _now_?" he said, brutally. "Don't be a fool. Come +out and eat breakfast with me, an' take care o' y'r young ones." + +She neither moved nor made a sound. With an oath he turned on his heel +and went out to the table. Eating his breakfast in his usual wolfish +fashion, he went out into the hot sun with his team and riding-plow, not +a little disturbed by this new phase of his wife's "cantankerousness." +He plowed steadily and sullenly all the forenoon, in the terrific heat +and dust. The air was full of tempestuous threats, still and sultry, one +of those days when work is a punishment. When he came in at noon he +found things the same--dinner on the table, but his wife out in the +garden with the youngest child. + +"I c'n stand it as long as _she_ can," he said to himself, in the +hearing of the children, as he pushed back from the table and went back +to work. + +When he had finished the field of corn it was after sundown, and he came +up to the house, hot, dusty, his shirt wringing wet with sweat, and his +neck aching with the work of looking down all day at the corn-rows. His +mood was still stern. The multitudinous lift, and stir, and sheen of the +wide, green field had been lost upon him. + +"I wonder if she's milked them cows," he muttered to himself. He gave a +sigh of relief to find she had. But she had done so not for his sake, +but for the sake of the poor, patient dumb brutes. + +When he went to the bed-room after supper, he found that the cradle and +his wife's few little boxes and parcels--poor, pathetic properties!--had +been removed to the garret, which they called a chamber, and he knew he +was to sleep alone again. + +"She'll git over it, I guess." He was very tired, but he didn't feel +quite comfortable enough to sleep. The air was oppressive. His shirt, +wet in places, and stiff with dust in other places, oppressed him more +than usual; so he rose and removed it, getting a clean one out of a +drawer. This was an unusual thing for him, for he usually slept in the +same shirt which he wore in his day's work; but it was Saturday night, +and he felt justified in the extravagance. + +In the meanwhile poor Lucretia was brooding over her life in a most +dangerous fashion. All she had done and suffered for Simeon Burns came +back to her till she wondered how she had endured it all. All day long +in the midst of the glorious summer landscape she brooded. + +"I hate him," she thought, with a fierce blazing up through the murk of +her musing. "I hate t' live. But they ain't no hope. I'm tied down. I +can't leave the children, and I ain't got no money. I couldn't make a +living out in the world. I ain't never seen anything an' don't know +anything." + +She was too simple and too unknowing to speculate on the loss of her +beauty, which would have brought her competency once--if sold in the +right market. As she lay in her little attic bed, she was still sullenly +thinking, wearily thinking of her life. She thought of a poor old horse +which Sim had bought once, years before, and put to the plough when it +was too old and weak to work. She could see her again as in a vision, +that poor old mare, with sad head drooping, toiling, toiling, till at +last she could no longer move, and lying down under the harness in the +furrow, groaned under the whip--and died. + +Then she wondered if her own numbness and despair meant death, and she +held her breath to think harder upon it. She concluded at last, grimly, +that she didn't care--only for the children. + +The air was frightfully close in the little attic, and she heard the low +mutter of the rising storm in the west. She forgot her troubles a +little, listening to the far-off gigantic footsteps of the tempest. + +_Boom, boom, boom_, it broke nearer and nearer, as if a vast cordon of +cannon was being drawn around the horizon. Yet she was conscious only of +pleasure. She had no fear. At last came the sweep of cool, fragrant +storm-wind, a short and sudden dash of rain, and then, in the cool, +sweet hush which followed, the worn and weary woman fell into a deep +sleep. + + + + +III. + + +When she woke the younger children were playing about on the floor in +their night-clothes, and little Pet was sitting in a square of sunshine, +intent on one of his shoes. He was too young to know how poor and +squalid his surroundings were--the patch of sunshine flung on the floor +glorified it all. He--little animal--was happy. + +The poor of the Western prairies lie almost as unhealthily close +together as do the poor of the city tenements. In the small hut of the +peasant there is as little chance to escape close and tainting contact +as in the coops and dens of the North End of proud Boston. In the midst +of oceans of land, floods of sunshine and gulfs of verdure, the farmer +lives in two or three small rooms. Poverty's eternal cordon is ever +round the poor. + +"Ma, why didn't you sleep with Pap last night?" asked Bob, the +seven-year-old, when he saw she was awake at last. She flushed a dull +red. + +"You hush, will yeh? Because--I--it was too warm--and there was a storm +comin'. You never mind askin' such questions. Is he gone out?" + +"Yup. I heerd him callin' the pigs. It's Sunday, ain't it, ma?" + +The fact seemed to startle her. + +"Why, yes, so it is! Wal! Now, Sadie, you jump up an' dress quick 's +y' can, an' Bob an' Sile, you run down an' bring s'm' water," she +commanded, in nervous haste, beginning to dress. In the middle of the +room there was scarce space to stand beneath the rafters. + +When Sim came in for his breakfast he found it on the table, but his +wife was absent. + +"Where's y'r ma?" he asked, with a little less of the growl in his +voice. + +"She's upstairs with Pet." + +The man ate his breakfast in dead silence, till at last Bob ventured to +say: + +"What makes ma ac' so?" + +"Shut up!" was the brutal reply. The children began to take sides with +the mother--all but the oldest girl, who was ten years old. To her the +father turned now for certain things to be done, treating her in his +rough fashion as a housekeeper, and the girl felt flattered and docile +accordingly. + +They were pitiably clad; like many farm-children, indeed, they could +hardly be said to be clad at all. Sadie had on but two garments, a sort +of undershirt of cotton and a faded calico dress, out of which her bare, +yellow little legs protruded, lamentably dirty and covered with +scratches. + +The boys also had two garments, a hickory shirt and a pair of pants like +their father's, made out of brown denims by the mother's never-resting +hands--hands that in sleep still sewed, and skimmed, and baked, and +churned. The boys had gone to bed without washing their feet, which now +looked like toads, calloused, brown, and chapped. + +Part of this the mother saw with her dull eyes as she came down, after +seeing the departure of Sim up the road with the cows. It was a +beautiful Sunday morning, and the woman might have sung like a bird if +men had been as kind to her as Nature. But she looked dully out upon the +seas of ripe grasses, tangled and flashing with dew, out of which the +bobolinks and larks sprang. The glorious winds brought her no melody, no +perfume, no respite from toil and care. + +She thought of the children she saw in the town,--children of the +merchant and banker, clean as little dolls, the boys in knickerbocker +suits, the girls in dainty white dresses,--and a vengeful bitterness +sprang up in her heart. She soon put the dishes away, but felt too tired +and listless to do more. + +"Taw-bay-wies! Pet want ta-aw-bay-wies!" cried the little one, tugging +at her dress. + +Listlessly, mechanically she took him in her arms, and went out into the +garden, which was fragrant and sweet with dew and sun. After picking +some berries for him, she sat down on the grass under the row of +cottonwoods, and sank into a kind of lethargy. A kingbird chattered and +shrieked overhead, the grasshoppers buzzed in the grasses, strange +insects with ventriloquistic voices sang all about her--she could not +tell where. + +"Ma, can't I put on my clean dress?" insisted Sadie. + +"I don't care," said the brooding woman, darkly. "Leave me alone." + +Oh, if she could only lie here forever, escaping all pain and weariness! +The wind sang in her ears; the great clouds, beautiful as heavenly +ships, floated far above in the vast, dazzling deeps of blue sky; the +birds rustled and chirped around her; leaping insects buzzed and +clattered in the grass and in the vines and bushes. The goodness and +glory of God was in the very air, the bitterness and oppression of man +in every line of her face. + +But her quiet was broken by Sadie, who came leaping like a fawn down +through the grass. + +"O ma, Aunt Maria and Uncle William are coming. They've jest turned in." + +"I don't care if they be!" she answered in the same dully-irritated way. +"What're they comin' here to-day for, I wan' to know." She stayed there +immovably, till Mrs. Councill came down to see her, piloted by two or +three of the children. Mrs. Councill, a jolly, large-framed woman, +smiled brightly, and greeted her in a loud, jovial voice. She made the +mistake of taking the whole matter lightly; her tone amounted to +ridicule. + +"Sim says you've been having a tantrum, Creeshy. Don't know what for, he +says." + +"He don't," said the wife, with a sullen flash in her eyes. "_He_ don't +know why! Well, then, you just tell him what I say. I've lived in hell +long enough. I'm done. I've slaved here day in and day out f'r twelve +years without pay--not even a decent word. I've worked like no nigger +ever worked 'r could work and live. I've given him all I had, 'r ever +expect to have. I'm wore out. My strength is gone, my patience is gone. +I'm done with it--that's a _part_ of what's the matter." + +"My sakes, Lucreeshy! You mustn't talk that way." + +"But I _will_," said the woman, as she supported herself on one palm and +raised the other. "I've _got_ to talk that way." She was ripe for an +explosion like this. She seized upon it with eagerness. "They ain't no +use o' livin' this way, anyway. I'd take poison if it wa'n't f'r the +young ones." + +"Lucreeshy Burns!" + +"Oh, I mean it." + +"Land sakes alive, I b'lieve you're goin' crazy!" + +"I shouldn't wonder if I was. I've had enough t' drive an Indian crazy. +Now you jest go off an' leave me 'lone. I ain't no mind to visit--they +ain't no way out of it, an' I'm tired o' tryin' to _find_ a way. Go off +an' let me be." + +Her tone was so bitterly hopeless that the great, jolly face of Mrs. +Councill stiffened into a look of horror such as she had not known for +years. The children, in two separate groups, could be heard rioting. +Bees were humming around the clover in the grass, and the kingbird +chattered ceaselessly from the Lombardy poplar tip. Both women felt all +this peace and beauty of the morning dimly, and it disturbed Mrs. +Councill because the other was so impassive under it all. At last, after +a long and thoughtful pause, Mrs. Councill asked a question whose answer +she knew would decide it all--asked it very kindly and softly: + +"Creeshy, are you comin' in?" + +"No," was the short and sullenly decisive answer. Mrs. Councill knew +that was the end, and so rose, with a sigh, and went away. + +"Wal, good-by," she said, simply. + +Looking back, she saw Lucretia lying at length, with closed eyes and +hollow cheeks. She seemed to be sleeping, half-buried in the grass. She +did not look up nor reply to her sister-in-law, whose life was one of +toil and trouble, also, but not so hard and helpless as Lucretia's. By +contrast with most of her neighbors, she seemed comfortable. + +"Sim Burns, what you ben doin' to that woman?" she burst out, as she +waddled up to where the two men were sitting under a cottonwood tree, +talking and whittling after the manner of farmers. + +"Nawthin' 's fur 's I know," answered Burns, not quite honestly, and +looking uneasy. + +"You needn't try t' git out of it like that, Sim Burns," replied his +sister. "That woman never got into that fit f'r _nawthin_'." + +"Wall, if you know more about it than I do, whadgy ask _me_ fur?" he +replied, angrily. + +"Tut, tut!" put in Councill, "hold y'r horses! Don't git on y'r ear, +children! Keep cool, and don't spile y'r shirts. Most likely you're all +t' blame. Keep cool an' swear less." + +"Wal, I'll bet Sim's more to blame than she is. Why, they ain't a +harder-workin' woman in the hull State of Ioway than she is"---- + +"Except Marm Councill." + +"Except nobody. Look at her, jest skin and bones." + +Councill chuckled in his vast way. "That's so, mother; measured in that +way, she leads over you. You git fat on it." + +She smiled a little, her indignation oozing away. She never "_could_ +stay mad," her children were accustomed to tell her. Burns refused to +talk any more about the matter, and the visitors gave it up, and got out +their team and started for home, Mrs. Councill firing this parting +shot: + +"The best thing you can do to-day is t' let her alone. Mebbe the +children 'll bring her round ag'in. If she does come round, you see 't +you treat her a little more 's y' did when you was a-courtin' her." + +"This way," roared Councill, putting his arm around his wife's waist. +She boxed his ears, while he guffawed and clucked at his team. + +Burns took a measure of salt and went out into the pasture to salt the +cows. On the sunlit slope of the field, where the cattle came running +and bawling to meet him, he threw down the salt in handfuls, and then +lay down to watch them as they eagerly licked it up, even gnawing a bare +spot in the sod in their eagerness to get it all. + +Burns was not a drinking man; he was hard-working, frugal; in fact, he +had no extravagances except his tobacco. His clothes he wore until they +all but dropped from him; and he worked in rain and mud, as well as dust +and sun. It was this suffering and toiling all to no purpose that made +him sour and irritable. He didn't see why he should have so little after +so much hard work. + +He was puzzled to account for it all. His mind--the average mind--was +weary with trying to solve an insoluble problem. His neighbors, who had +got along a little better than himself, were free with advice and +suggestion as to the cause of his persistent poverty. + +Old man Bacon, the hardest-working man in the county, laid it to Burns's +lack of management. Jim Butler, who owned a dozen farms (which he had +taken on mortgages), and who had got rich by buying land at government +price and holding for a rise, laid all such cases as Burns's to "lack of +enterprise, foresight." + +But the larger number, feeling themselves in the same boat with Burns, +said: + +"I d' know. Seems as if things get worse an' worse. Corn an' wheat +gittin' cheaper 'n' cheaper. Machinery eatin' up profits--got to _have_ +machinery to harvest the cheap grain, an' then the machinery eats up +profits. Taxes goin' up. Devil to pay all round; I d' know what in +thunder _is_ the matter." + +The Democrats said protection was killing the farmers; the Republicans +said no. The Grangers growled about the middle-men; the Greenbackers +said there wasn't circulating medium enough, and, in the midst of it +all, hard-working, discouraged farmers, like Simeon Burns, worked on, +unable to find out what really was the matter. + +And there, on this beautiful Sabbath morning, Sim sat and thought and +thought, till he rose with an oath and gave it up. + + + + +IV. + + +It was hot and brilliant again the next morning as Douglass Radbourn +drove up the road with Lily Graham, the teacher of the school in the +little white school-house. It was blazing hot, even though not yet nine +o'clock, and the young farmers plowing beside the fence looked longingly +and somewhat bitterly at Radbourn seated in a fine top-buggy beside a +beautiful creature in lace and cambric. + +Very beautiful the town-bred "school-ma'am" looked to those grimy, +sweaty fellows, superb fellows, too, physically, with bare red arms and +leather-colored faces. She was as if builded of the pink and white +clouds soaring far up there in the morning sky. So cool, and sweet, and +dainty. + +As she came in sight, their dusty and sweaty shirts grew biting as the +poisoned shirt of the Norse myth, their bare feet in the brown dirt grew +distressingly flat and hoof-like, and their huge, dirty, brown, chapped +and swollen hands grew so repulsive that the mere remote possibility of +some time in the far future standing a chance of having an introduction +to her caused them to wipe their palms on their trousers' legs +stealthily. + +Lycurgus Banks swore when he saw Radbourn. "That cuss thinks he's ol' +hell this morning. He don't earn his living. But he's just the kind of +cuss to get holt of all the purty girls." + +Others gazed with simple, sad wistfulness upon the slender figure, pale, +sweet face, and dark eyes of the young girl, feeling that to have talk +with such a fairy-like creature was a happiness too great to ever be +their lot. And when she had passed they went back to work with a sigh +and feeling of loss. + +As for Lily, she felt a pang of pity for these people. She looked at +this peculiar form of poverty and hardship much as the fragile, tender +girl of the city looks upon the men laying a gas-main in the streets. +She felt, sympathetically, the heat and grime, and, though but the +faintest idea of what it meant to wear such clothing came to her, she +shuddered. Her eyes had been opened to these things by Radbourn, a +class-mate at the Seminary. + +The young fellow knew that Lily was in love with him, and he made +distinct effort to keep the talk upon impersonal subjects. He liked her +very much, probably because she listened so well. + +"Poor fellows," sighed Lily, almost unconsciously. "I hate to see them +working there in the dirt and hot sun. It seems a hopeless sort of life, +doesn't it?" + +"Oh, but this is the most beautiful part of the year," said Radbourn. +"Think of them in the mud, in the sleet; think of them husking corn in +the snow, a bitter wind blowing; think of them a month later in the +harvest; think of them imprisoned here in winter!" + +"Yes, it's dreadful! But I never felt it so keenly before. You have +opened my eyes to it. Of course, I've been on a farm, but not to live +there." + +"Writers and orators have lied so long about 'the idyllic' in farm life, +and said so much about the 'independent American farmer,' that he +himself has remained blind to the fact that he's one of the +hardest-working and poorest-paid men in America. See the houses they +live in--hovels." + +"Yes, yes, I know," said Lily; a look of deeper pain swept over her +face. "And the fate of the poor women; oh, the fate of the women!" + +"Yes, it's a matter of statistics," went on Radbourn, pitilessly, "that +the wives of the American farmers fill our insane asylums. See what a +life they lead, most of them; no music, no books. Seventeen hours a day +in a couple of small rooms--dens. Now, there is Sim Burns! What a +travesty of a home! Yet there are a dozen just as bad in sight. He works +like a fiend--so does his wife--and what is their reward? Simply a hole +to hibernate in and to sleep and eat in in summer. A dreary present and +a well-nigh hopeless future. No, they have a future, if they knew it, +and we must tell them." + +"I know Mrs. Burns," Lily said, after a pause; "she sends several +children to my school. Poor, pathetic little things, half-clad and +wistful-eyed. They make my heart ache; they are so hungry for love, and +so quick to learn." + +As they passed the Burns farm, they looked for the wife, but she was not +to be seen. The children had evidently gone up to the little white +school-house at the head of the lane. Radbourn let the reins fall slack +as he talked on. He did not look at the girl; his eyebrows were drawn +into a look of gloomy pain. + +"It ain't so much the grime that I abhor, nor the labor that crooks +their backs and makes their hands bludgeons. It's the horrible waste of +life involved in it all. I don't believe God intended a man to be bent +to plow-handles like that, but that ain't the worst of it. The worst of +it is, these people live lives approaching automata. They become +machines to serve others more lucky or more unscrupulous than +themselves. What is the world of art, of music, of literature, to these +poor devils--to Sim Burns and his wife there, for example? Or even to +the best of these farmers?" + +The girl looked away over the shimmering lake of yellow-green corn. A +choking came into her throat. Her gloved hand trembled. + +"What is such a life worth? It's all very comfortable for us to say, +'They don't feel it.' How do we know what they feel? What do we know of +their capacity for enjoyment of art and music? They never have leisure +or opportunity. The master is very glad to be taught by preacher, and +lawyer, and novelist, that his slaves are contented and never feel any +longings for a higher life. These people live lives but little higher +than their cattle--are _forced_ to live so. Their hopes and aspirations +are crushed out, their souls are twisted and deformed just as toil +twists and deforms their bodies. They are on the same level as the city +laborer. The very religion they hear is a soporific. They are taught to +be content here that they may be happy hereafter. Suppose there isn't +any hereafter?" + +"Oh, don't say that, please!" Lily cried. + +"But I don't _know_ that there is," he went on remorselessly, "and I do +know that these people are being robbed of something more than money, of +all that makes life worth living. The promise of milk and honey in +Canaan is all very well, but I prefer to have mine here; then I'm sure +of it." + +"What can we do?" murmured the girl. + +"Do? Rouse these people for one thing; preach _discontent_, a noble +discontent." + +"It will only make them unhappy." + +"No, it won't; not if you show them the way out. If it does, it's better +to be unhappy striving for higher things, like a man, than to be content +in a wallow like swine." + +"But what _is_ the way out?" + +This was sufficient to set Radbourn upon his hobby-horse. He outlined +his plan of action--the abolition of all indirect taxes; the State +control of all privileges the private ownership of which interfered with +the equal rights of all. He would utterly destroy speculative holdings +of the earth. He would have land everywhere brought to its best use, by +appropriating all ground rents to the use of the State, etc., etc., to +which the girl listened with eager interest, but with only partial +comprehension. + +As they neared the little school-house, a swarm of midgets in pink +dresses, pink sun-bonnets, and brown legs, came rushing to meet their +teacher, with that peculiar devotion the children in the country develop +for a refined teacher. + +Radbourn helped Lily out into the midst of the eager little scholars, +who swarmed upon her like bees on a lump of sugar, till even Radbourn's +gravity gave way, and he smiled into her lifted eyes--an unusual smile, +that strangely enough stopped the smile on her own lips, filling her +face with a wistful shadow, and her breath came hard for a moment, and +she trembled. + +She loved that cold, stern face, oh, so much! and to have him smile was +a pleasure that made her heart leap till she suffered a smothering pain. +She turned to him to say: + +"I am very thankful, Mr. Radbourn, for another pleasant ride," adding in +a lower tone: "It was a very great pleasure; you always give me so much. +I feel stronger and more hopeful." + +"I'm glad you feel so. I was afraid I was prosy with my land-doctrine." + +"Oh, no! Indeed no! You have given me a new hope; I am exalted with the +thought; I shall try to think it all out and apply it." + +And so they parted, the children looking on and slyly whispering among +themselves. Radbourn looked back after awhile, but the bare little hive +had absorbed its little group, and was standing bleak as a tombstone and +hot as a furnace on the naked plain in the blazing sun. + +"America's pitiful boast!" said the young radical, looking back at it. +"Only a miserable hint of what it might be." + +All that forenoon, as Lily faced her little group of barefooted +children, she was thinking of Radbourn, of his almost fierce sympathy +for these poor, supine farmers, hopeless and in some cases content in +their narrow lives. The children almost worshiped the beautiful girl +who came to them as a revelation of exquisite neatness and taste,--whose +very voice and intonation awed them. + +They noted, unconsciously, of course, every detail. Snowy linen, touches +of soft color, graceful lines of bust and side--the slender fingers that +could almost speak, so beautifully flexile were they. Lily herself +sometimes, when she shook the calloused, knotted, stiffened hands of the +women, shuddered with sympathetic pain, to think that the crowning +wonder and beauty of God's world should be so maimed and distorted from +its true purpose. + +Even in the children before her she could see the inherited results of +fruitless labor--and, more pitiful yet, in the bent shoulders of the +older ones she could see the beginnings of deformity that would soon be +permanent. And as these things came to her, she clasped the poor +wondering things to her side with a convulsive wish to make life a +little brighter for them. + +"How is your mother to-day?" she asked of Sadie Burns, as she was eating +her luncheon on the drab-colored table near the open window. + +"Purty well," said Sadie, in a hesitating way. + +Lily was looking out, and listening to the gophers whistling as they +raced to and fro. She could see Bob Burns lying at length on the grass +in the pasture over the fence, his heels waving in the air, his hands +holding a string which formed a snare. It was like fishing to young +Izaak Walton. + +It was very still and hot, and the cheep and trill of the gophers and +the chatter of the kingbirds alone broke the silence. A cloud of +butterflies were fluttering about a pool near; a couple of big flies +buzzed and mumbled on the pane. + +"What ails your mother?" Lily asked, recovering herself and looking at +Sadie, who was distinctly ill at ease. + +"Oh, I dunno," Sadie replied, putting one bare foot across the other. + +Lily insisted. + +"She 'n' pa's had an awful row"---- + +"Sadie!" said the teacher warningly, "what language!" + +"I mean they quarreled, an' she don't speak to him any more." + +"Why, how dreadful!" + +"An' pa he's awful cross; and she won't eat when he does, an' I haf to +wait on table." + +"I believe I'll go down and see her this noon," said Lily to herself, as +she divined a little of the state of affairs in the Burns family. + + + + +V. + + +Sim was mending the pasture fence as Lily came down the road toward him. +He had delayed going to dinner to finish his task and was just about +ready to go when Lily spoke to him. + +"Good morning, Mr. Burns. I am just going down to see Mrs. Burns. It +must be time to go to dinner--aren't you ready to go? I want to talk +with you." + +Ordinarily he would have been delighted with the idea of walking down +the road with the school-ma'am, but there was something in her look +which seemed to tell him that she knew all about his trouble, and, +besides, he was not in good humor. + +"Yes, in a minnit--soon's I fix up this hole. Them shoats, I b'lieve, +would go through a key-hole, if they could once get their snoots in." + +He expanded on this idea as he nailed away, anxious to gain time. He +foresaw trouble for himself. He couldn't be rude to this sweet and +fragile girl. If a _man_ had dared to attack him on his domestic +shortcomings, he could have fought. The girl stood waiting for him, her +large, steady eyes full of thought, gazing down at him from the shadow +of her broad-brimmed hat. + +"The world is so full of misery anyway, that we ought to do the best we +can to make it less," she said at last, in a musing tone, as if her +thoughts had unconsciously taken on speech. She had always appealed to +him strongly, and never more so than in this softly-uttered +abstraction--that it was an abstraction added to its power with him. + +He could find no words for reply, but picked up his hammer and nail-box, +and slouched along the road by her side, listening without a word to her +talk. + +"Christ was patient, and bore with his enemies. Surely we ought to bear +with our--friends," she went on, adapting her steps to his. He took off +his torn straw hat and wiped his face on his sleeve, being much +embarrassed and ashamed. Not knowing how to meet such argument, he kept +silent. + +"How _is_ Mrs. Burns?" said Lily at length, determined to make him +speak. The delicate meaning in the emphasis laid on _is_ did not escape +him. + +"Oh, she's all right--I mean she's done her work jest the same as ever. +I don't see her much"---- + +"I didn't know--I was afraid she was sick. Sadie said she was acting +strangely." + +"No, she's well enough--but"---- + +"But what is the trouble? Won't you let me help you, _won't_ you?" she +pleaded. + +"Can't anybody help us. We've got 'o fight it out, I s'pose," he +replied, a gloomy note of resentment creeping into his voice. "She's +ben in a devil of a temper f'r a week." + +"Haven't you been in the same kind of a temper too?" demanded Lily, +firmly, but kindly. "I think most troubles of this kind come from bad +temper on both sides. Don't you? Have you done your share at being kind +and patient?" + +They had reached the gate now, and she laid her hand on his arm to stop +him. He looked down at the slender gloved hand on his arm, feeling as if +a giant had grasped him; then he raised his eyes to her face, flushing a +purplish red as he remembered his grossness. It seemed monstrous in the +presence of this girl-advocate. Her face was like silver; her eyes +seemed pools of tears. + +"I don't s'pose I have," he said at last, pushing by her. He could not +have faced her glance another moment. His whole air conveyed the +impression of destructive admission. Lily did not comprehend the extent +of her advantage or she would have pursued it further. As it was she +felt a little hurt as she entered the house. The table was set, but Mrs. +Burns was nowhere to be seen. Calling her softly, the young girl passed +through the shabby little living-room to the oven-like bed-room which +opened off it, but no one was about. She stood for a moment shuddering +at the wretchedness of the room. + +Going back to the kitchen, she found Sim about beginning on his dinner. +Little Pet was with him; the rest of the children were at the +school-house. + +"Where is she?" + +"I d' know. Out in the garden, I expect. She don't eat with me now. I +never see her. She don't come near _me_. I ain't seen her since +Saturday." + +Lily was shocked inexpressibly and began to see more clearly the +magnitude of the task she had set herself to do. But it must be done; +she felt that a tragedy was not far off. It must be averted. + +"Mr. Burns, what have you done? What _have_ you done?" she asked in +terror and horror. + +"Don't lay it all to _me_! She hain't done nawthin' but complain f'r ten +years. I couldn't do nothin' to suit her. She was always naggin' me." + +"I don't think Lucretia Burns would nag anybody. I don't say you're +_all_ to blame, but I'm afraid you haven't acknowledged you were _any_ +to blame. I'm afraid you've not been patient with her. I'm going out to +bring her in. If she comes, will you _say_ you were _part_ to blame? You +needn't beg her pardon--just say you'll try to be better. Will you do +it? Think how much she has done for you! Will you?" + +He remained silent, and looked discouragingly rude. His sweaty, dirty +shirt was open at the neck, his arms were bare, his scraggly teeth were +yellow with tobacco, and his uncombed hair lay tumbled about on his +high, narrow head. His clumsy, unsteady hands played with the dishes on +the table. His pride was struggling with his sense of justice; he knew +he ought to consent, and yet it was so hard to acknowledge himself to +blame. The girl went on in a voice piercingly sweet, trembling with pity +and pleading. + +"What word can I carry to her from you? I'm going to go and see her. If +I could take a word from _you_, I know she would come back to the table. +Shall I tell her you feel to blame?" + +The answer was a long time coming; at last the man nodded an assent, the +sweat pouring from his purple face. She had set him thinking; her +victory was sure. + +Lily almost ran out into the garden and to the strawberry patch, where +she found Lucretia in her familiar, colorless, shapeless dress, picking +berries in the hot sun, the mosquitoes biting her neck and hands. + +"Poor, pathetic, dumb sufferer!" the girl thought as she ran up to her. + +She dropped her dish as she heard Lily coming, and gazed up into the +tender, pitying face. Not a word was spoken, but something she saw there +made her eyes fill with tears, and her throat swell. It was pure +sympathy. She put her arms around the girl's neck and sobbed for the +first time since Friday night. Then they sat down on the grass under +the hedge, and she told her story, interspersed with Lily's horrified +comments. + +When it was all told, the girl still sat listening. She heard Radbourn's +calm, slow voice again. It helped her not to hate Burns; it helped her +to pity and understand him: + +"You must remember that such toil brutalizes a man; it makes him +callous, selfish, unfeeling, necessarily. A fine nature must either +adapt itself to its hard surroundings or die. Men who toil terribly in +filthy garments day after day and year after year cannot easily keep +gentle; the frost and grime, the heat and cold will soon or late enter +into their souls. The case is not all in favor of the suffering wives, +and against the brutal husbands. If the farmer's wife is dulled and +crazed by her routine, the farmer himself is degraded and brutalized." + +As well as she could Lily explained all this to the woman, who lay with +her face buried in the girl's lap. Lily's arms were about her thin +shoulders in an agony of pity. + +"It's hard, Lucretia, I know--more than you can bear--but you mustn't +forget what Sim endures too. He goes out in the storms and in the heat +and dust. His boots are hard, and see how his hands are all bruised and +broken by his work! He was tired and hungry when he said that--he didn't +really mean it." + +The wife remained silent. + +"Mr. Radbourn says work, as things go now, _does_ degrade a man in spite +of himself. He says men get coarse and violent in spite of themselves, +just as women do when everything goes wrong in the house--when the flies +are thick, and the fire won't burn, and the irons stick to the clothes. +You see, you both suffer. Don't lay up this fit of temper against +Sim--will you?" + +The wife lifted her head and looked away. Her face was full of hopeless +weariness. + +"It ain't this once. It ain't that 't all. It's having no let-up. Just +goin' the same thing right over 'n' over--no hope of anything better." + +"If you had a hope of another world"---- + +"Don't talk that. I don't want that kind o' comfert. I want a decent +chance here. I want 'o rest an' be happy _now_." Lily's big eyes were +streaming with tears. What should she say to the desperate woman? +"What's the use? We might jest as well die--all of us." + +The woman's livid face appalled the girl. She was gaunt, heavy-eyed, +nerveless. Her faded dress settled down over her limbs, showing the +swollen knees and thin calves; her hands, with distorted joints, +protruded painfully from her sleeves. And all about was the +ever-recurring wealth and cheer of nature that knows no fear or +favor--the bees and flies buzzing in the sun, the jay and kingbird in +the poplars, the smell of strawberries, the motion of lush grass, the +shimmer of corn-blades tossed gayly as banners in a conquering army. + +Like a flash of keener light, a sentence shot across the girl's mind: +"Nature knows no title-deed. The bounty of her mighty hands falls as the +sunlight falls, copious, impartial; her seas carry all ships; her air is +for all lips, her lands for all feet." + +"Poverty and suffering such as yours will not last." There was something +in the girl's voice that roused the woman. She turned her dull eyes upon +the youthful face. + +Lily took her hand in both hers as if by a caress she could impart her +own faith. + +"Look up, dear. When nature is so good and generous, man must come to be +better, surely. Come, go in the house again. Sim is there; he expects +you; he told me to tell you he was sorry." Lucretia's face twitched a +little at that, but her head was bent. "Come; you can't live this way. +There isn't any other place to go to." + +No; that was the bitterest truth. Where on this wide earth, with its +forth-shooting fruits and grains, its fragrant lands and shining seas, +could this dwarfed, bent, broken, middle-aged woman go? Nobody wanted +her, nobody cared for her. But the wind kissed her drawn lips as readily +as those of the girl, and the blooms of clover nodded to her as if to a +queen. + +Lily had said all she could. Her heart ached with unspeakable pity and a +sort of terror. + +"Don't give up, Lucretia. This may be the worst hour of your life. Live +and bear with it all for Christ's sake--for your children's sake. Sim +told me to tell you he was to blame. If you will only see that you are +both to blame and yet neither to blame, then you can rise above it. Try, +dear!" + +Something that was in the girl imparted itself to the wife, +electrically. She pulled herself together, rose silently, and started +toward the house. Her face was rigid, but no longer sullen. Lily +followed her slowly, wonderingly. + +As she neared the kitchen door, she saw Sim still sitting at the table; +his face was unusually grave and soft. She saw him start and shove back +his chair--saw Lucretia go to the stove and lift the tea-pot, and heard +her say, as she took her seat beside the baby: + +"Want some more tea?" + +She had become a wife and mother again, but in what spirit the puzzled +girl could not say. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART V. + +SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE FARM: BOYS AND HARVEST HANDS. + + In mystery of town and play + The splendid lady lives alway, + Inwrought with starlight, winds and streams. + + +SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE FARM. + + +A group of men were gathered in Farmer Graham's barn one rainy day in +September; the rain had stopped the stacking, and the men were amusing +themselves with feats of skill and strength. Steve Nagle was the +champion, no matter what came up; whether shouldering a sack of wheat, +or raising weights or suspending himself with one hand, he left the +others out of the race. + +"Aw! it's no good foolun' with such puny little men as you," he +swaggered at last, throwing himself down upon a pile of sacks. + +"If our hired man was here I bet he'd beat you all holler," piped a +boy's voice from the doorway. + +Steve raised himself up and glared. + +"What's that thing talkun'?" + +The boy held his ground. "You can brag when he ain't around, but I bet +he can lick you with one hand tied behind him; don't you, Frank?" + +Frank was doubtful, and kept a little out of sight. He was afraid of +Steve, as were, indeed, all the other men, for he had terrorized the +saloons of the county for years. Johnny went on about his hero: + +"Why, he can take a sack of wheat by the corners and snap every kernel +of it clean out; he can lift a separator just as easy! You'd better brag +when he's around." + +Steve's anger rose, for he saw the rest laughing; he glared around at +them all like a hyena. "Bring on this whelp, let's see how he looks. I +ain't seen him yit." + +"Pa says if Lime went to a saloon where you'd meet him once, you +wouldn't clean out that saloon," Johnny went on in a calm voice, with a +sort of undercurrent of glee in it. He saw Steve's anger, and was +delighted. + +"Bring on this feller; I'll knock the everlasting spots offen 'im f'r +two cents." + +"I'll tell 'im that." + +"Tell him and be damned," roared Steve, with a wolfish gleam in his eyes +that drove the boys away whooping with mingled terror and delight. + +Steve saw that the men about him held Johnny's opinion of Lime, and it +made him furious. For several years he had held undisputed sovereignty +over the saloons of Rock County, and when, with both sleeves rolled up +and eyes flaming with madness, he had leaped into the center of a +bar-room floor with a wild shout, everybody got out, by doors, windows +or any other way, sometimes taking sash and all, and left him roaring +with maniacal delight. + +No one used a revolver in those days. Shooting was almost unknown. +Fights were tests of physical strength and savagery. + +Harvest brought into Iowa at that time a flood of rough and hardy men +who drifted north with the moving line of ripening wheat, and on +Saturday nights the saloons of the county were filled with them, and +Steve found many chances to show his power. Among these strangers, as +they gathered in some saloon to make a night of it, he loved to burst +with his assertion of individual sovereignty. + + * * * * * + +Lime was out mending fence when Johnny came home to tell him what Steve +had said. Johnny was anxious to see his faith in his hero justified, and +watched Lime carefully as he pounded away without looking up. His dress +always had an easy slouch about his vast limbs, and his pantaloons, +usually of some dark stuff, he wore invariably tucked into his +boot-tops, his vest swinging unbuttoned, his hat carelessly awry. + +Being a quiet, sober man, he had never been in a saloon when Steve +entered to swing his hat to the floor and yell: + +"I'm Jack Robinson, I am! I am the man that bunted the bull off the +bridge! I'm the best man in Northern Iowa!" He had met him, of course, +but Steve kept a check upon himself when sober. + +"He says he can knock the spots off of you," Johnny said, in conclusion, +watching Lime roguishly. + +The giant finished nailing up the fence, and at last said: "Now run +along, sonny, and git the cows." There was a laugh in his voice that +showed his amusement at Johnny's disappointment. "I ain't got any +spots." + +On the following Saturday night, at dusk, as Lime was smoking his pipe +out on the horse-block, with the boys around him, there came a +swiftly-driven wagon down the road, filled with a noisy load of men. +They pulled up at the gate, with a prodigious shouting. + +"Hello, Lime!" + +"Hello, the house!" + +"Hurrah for the show!" + +"It's Al Crandall," cried Johnny, running down to the gate. Lime +followed slowly, and asked: "What's up, boys?" + +"All goin' down to the show; climb in!" + +"All right; wait till I git my coat." + +Lime was working one of Graham's farms on shares in the summer; in the +winter he went to the pinery. + +"Oh, can't we go, Lime?" pleaded the boys. + +"If your dad'll let you; I'll pay for the tickets." + +The boys rushed wildly to the house and as wildly back again, and the +team resumed its swift course, for it was getting late. It was a +beautiful night; the full moon poured down a cataract of silent white +light like spray, and the dew (almost frost) lay on the grass and +reflected the glory of the autumn sky; the air was still and had that +peculiar property, common to the prairie air, of carrying sound to a +great distance. + +The road was hard and smooth, and the spirited little team bowled the +heavy wagon along at a swift pace. "We're late," Crandall said, as he +snapped his long whip over the heads of his horses, "and we've got to +make it in twenty-five minutes or miss part of the show." This caused +Johnny great anxiety. He had never seen a play and wanted to see it all. +He looked at the flying legs of the horses and pushed on the dashboard, +chirping at them slyly. + +Rock Falls was the county town and the only town where plays could be +produced. It was a place of about 3,000 inhabitants at that time, and to +Johnny's childish eyes it was a very great place indeed. To go to town +was an event, but to go with the men at night, and to a show, was +something to remember a lifetime. + +There was little talk as they rushed along, only some singing of a +dubious sort by Bill Young, on the back seat. At intervals Bill stopped +singing and leaned over to say, in exactly the same tone of voice each +time: "Al, I hope t' God we won't be late." Then he resumed his +monotonous singing, or said something coarse to Rice, who laughed +immoderately. + +The play had begun when they climbed the narrow, precarious stairway +which led to the door of the hall. Every seat of the room was filled, +but as for the boys, after getting their eyes upon the players, they did +not think of sitting, or of moving, for that matter; they were literally +all eyes and ears. + +The hall seated about 400 persons, and the stage was a contrivance +striking as to coloring as well as variety of pieces. It added no little +to the sport of the evening by the squeaks it gave out as the heavy man +walked across, and by the falling down of the calico wings and by the +persistent refusal of the curtain to go down at the proper moment on the +tableau. At the back of the room the benches rose one above the other +until the one at the rear was near the grimy ceiling. These benches were +occupied by the toughs of the town, who treated each other to peanuts +and slapped one another over the head with their soft, shapeless hats, +and laughed inordinately when some fellow's hat was thrown out of his +reach into the crowd. + +The play was Wilkie Collins' "New Magdalen," and the part of Mercy was +taken by a large and magnificently proportioned woman, a blonde, and in +Johnny's eyes she seemed something divine, with her grace and majesty of +motion. He took a personal pride in her at once and wanted her to come +out triumphant in the end, regardless of any conventional morality. + +True, his admiration for the dark little woman's tragic utterance at +times drew him away from his breathless study of the queenly Mercy, but +such moments were few. Within a half hour he was deeply in love with the +heroine and wondered how she could possibly endure the fat man who +played the part of Horace, and who pitched into the practicable supper +of cold ham, biscuit and currant wine with a gusto that suggested +gluttony as the reason for his growing burden of flesh. + +And so the play went on. The wonderful old lady in the cap and +spectacles, the mysterious dark little woman who popped in at short +intervals to say "Beware!" in a very deep contralto voice, the tender +and repentant Mercy, all were new and wonderful, beautiful things to the +boys, and though they stood up the whole evening through, it passed so +swiftly that the curtain's fall drew from them long sighs of regret. +From that time on they were to dream of that wonderful play and that +beautiful, repentant woman. So securely was she enthroned in their +regard that no rude and senseless jest could ever unseat her. Of +course, the men, as they went out, laughed and joked in the manner of +such men, and swore in their disappointment because it was a serious +drama in place of the comedy and the farce which they had expected. + +"It's a regular sell," Bill said. "I wanted to hear old Plunket stid of +all that stuff about nothin'. That was a lunkin' good-lookin' woman +though," he added, with a coarse suggestion in his voice, which +exasperated Johnny to the pitch of giving him a kick on the heel as he +walked in front. "Hyare, young feller, look where you're puttin' your +hoofs!" Bill growled, looking about. + +John was comforted by seeing in the face of his brother the same rapt +expression which he felt was on his own. He walked along almost +mechanically, scarcely feeling the sidewalk, his thoughts still dwelling +on the lady and the play. It was after ten o'clock, and the stores were +all shut, the frost lay thick and white on the plank walk, and the moon +was shining as only a moon can shine through the rarefied air on the +Western prairies, and overhead the stars in innumerable hosts swam in +the absolutely cloudless sky. + +John stumbled along, keeping hold of Lime's hand till they reached the +team standing at the sidewalk, shivering with cold. The impatient horses +stretched their stiffened limbs with pleasure and made off with a +rearing plunge. The men were noisy. Bill sang another song at the top +of his voice as they rattled by the sleeping houses, but as he came to +an objectionable part of the song Lime turned suddenly and said: "Shut +up on that, will you?" and he became silent. + +Rock Falls, after the most extraordinary agitation, had just prohibited +the sale of liquor at any point within two miles of the school-house in +the town. This, after strenuous opposition, was enforced; the immediate +effect of the law was to establish saloons at the limit of the two miles +and to throw a large increase of business into the hands of Hank Swartz +in the retail part of his brewery, which was situated about two miles +from the town, on the bank of the river. He had immediately built a +bar-room and made himself ready for the increase of his trade, which had +previously been confined to supplying picnic parties with half-kegs of +beer or an occasional glass to teamsters passing by. Hank had an eye to +the main chance and boasted: "If the public gits ahead of me it's got to +be up and a-comin'." + +The road along which Crandall was driving did not lead to Hank's place, +but the river road, which branched off a little farther on, went by the +brewery, though it was a longer way around. The men grew silent at last, +and the steady roll and rumble of the wagon over the smooth road was +soothing, and John laid his head in Lime's lap and fell asleep while +looking at the moon and wondering why it always seemed to go just as +fast as the team. + +He was awakened by a series of wild yells, the snapping of whips and the +furious rush of horses. It was another team filled with harvesters +trying to pass, and not succeeding. The fellows in the other wagon +hooted and howled and cracked the whip, but Al's little bays kept them +behind until Lime protested, "Oh, let 'em go, Al," and then with a shout +of glee the team went by and left them in a cloud of dust. + +"Say, boys," said Bill, "that was Pat Sheehan and the Nagle boys. +They've turned off; they're goin' down to Hank's. Let's go too. Come on, +fellers, what d'you say? I'm allfired dry. Ain't you?" + +"I'm willun'," said Frank Rice; "what d'you say, Lime?" John looked up +into Lime's face and said to him, in a low voice, "Let's go home; that +was Steve a-drivin'." Lime nodded and made a sign to John to keep still, +but John saw his head lift. He had heard and recognized Steve's voice. + +"It was Pat Sheehan, sure," repeated Bill, "an' I shouldn't wonder if +the others was the Nagle boys and Eth Cole." + +"Yes, it was Steve," said Al. "I saw his old hat as he went by." + +It was perfectly intelligible to Lime that they were all anxious to +have a meeting between Steve and himself. Johnny saw also that if Lime +refused to go to the brewery he would be called a coward. Bill would +tell it all over the neighborhood, and his hero would be shamed. At last +Lime nodded his head in consent and Al turned off into the river road. + +When they drew up at the brewery by the river the other fellows had all +entered and the door was shut. There were two or three other teams +hitched about under the trees. The men sprang out and Bill danced a jig +in anticipation of the fun to follow. "If Steve starts to lam Lime +there'll be a circus." + +As they stood for a moment before the door Al spoke to Lime about +Steve's probable attack. "I ain't goin' to hunt around for no row," +replied Lime, placidly, "and I don't believe Steve is. You lads," he +said to the boys, "watch the team for a little while; cuddle down under +the blankets if you git cold. It ain't no place for you in the inside. +We won't stop long," he ended, cheerily. + +The door opened and let out a dull red light, closed again, and all was +still except an occasional burst of laughter and noise of heavy feet +within. The scene made an indelible impress upon John, child though he +was. Fifty feet away the river sang over its shallows, broad and +whitened with foam which gleamed like frosted silver in the brilliant +moonlight. The trees were dark and tall about him and loomed overhead +against the starlit sky, and the broad high moon threw a thick tracery +of shadows on the dusty white road where the horses stood. Only the +rhythmic flow of the broad, swift river, with the occasional uneasy +movement of the horses under their creaking harnesses or the dull noise +of the shouting men within the shanty, was to be heard. + +John nestled down into the robes and took to dreaming of the lovely lady +he had seen, and wondered if, when he became a man, he should have a +wife like her. He was awakened by Frank, who was rousing him to serve a +purpose of his own. John was ten and Frank fifteen; he rubbed his sleepy +eyes and rose under orders. + +"Say, Johnny, what d'yeh s'pose them fellers are doen' in there? You +said Steve was goin' to lick Lime, you did. It don't sound much like it +in there. Hear 'um laugh," he said viciously and regretfully. "Say, +John, you sly along and peek in and see what they're up to, an' come an' +tell me, while I hold the horses," he said, to hide the fact that John +was doing a good deal for his benefit. + +John got slowly off the wagon and hobbled on toward the saloon, stiff +with the cold. As he neared the door he could hear some one talking in a +loud voice, while the rest laughed at intervals in the manner of those +who are listening to the good points in a story. Not daring to open the +door, Johnny stood around the front trying to find a crevice to look in +at. The speaker inside had finished his joke and some one had begun +singing. + +The building was a lean-to attached to the brewery, and was a rude and +hastily constructed affair. It had only two windows; one was on the side +and the other on the back. The window on the side was out of John's +reach, so he went to the back of the shanty. It was built partly into +the hill, and the window was at the top of the bank. John found that by +lying down on the ground on the outside he had a good view of the +interior. The window, while level with the ground on the outside, was +about as high as the face of a man on the inside. He was extremely +wide-awake now and peered in at the scene with round, unblinking eyes. + +Steve was making sport for the rest and stood leaning his elbow on the +bar. He was in rare good humor, for him. His hat was lying beside him +and he was in his shirt-sleeves, and his cruel gray eyes, pockmarked +face and broken nose were lighted up with a frightful smile. He was +good-natured now, but the next drink might set him wild. Hank stood +behind the high pine bar, a broad but nervous grin on his round, red +face. Two big kerosene lamps, through a couple of smoky chimneys, sent +a dull red glare upon the company, which half filled the room. + +If Steve's face was unpleasant to look upon, the nonchalant, tiger-like +poise and flex of his body was not. He had been dancing, it seemed, and +had thrown off his coat, and as he talked he repeatedly rolled his blue +shirt-sleeves up and down as though the motion were habitual to him. +Most of the men were sitting around the room looking on and laughing at +Steve's antics, and the antics of one or two others who were just drunk +enough to make fools of themselves. Two or three sat on an old billiard +table under the window through which John was peering. + +Lime sat in his characteristic attitude, his elbows upon his knees and +his thumbs under his chin. His eyes were lazily raised now and then with +a lion-like action of the muscles of his forehead. But he seemed to take +little interest in the ribaldry of the other fellows. John measured both +champions critically, and exulted in the feeling that Steve was not so +ready for the row with Lime as he thought he was. + +After Steve had finished his story there was a chorus of roars: "Bully +for you, Steve!" "Give us another," etc. Steve, much flattered, nodded +to the alert saloon-keeper, and said: "Give us another, Hank." As the +rest all sprang up he added: "Pull out that brandy kaig this time, +Hank. Trot her out, you white-livered Dutchman," he roared, as Swartz +hesitated. + +The brewer fetched it up from beneath the bar, but he did it +reluctantly. In the midst of the hubbub thus produced, an abnormally +tall and lanky fellow known as "High" Bedloe pushed up to the bar and +made an effort to speak, and finally did say solemnly: + +"Gen'lmun, Steve, say, gen'lmun, do'n' less mix our drinks!" + +This was received with boisterous delight, in which Bedloe could not see +the joke, and looked feebly astonished. + +Just at this point John received such a fright as entirely took away his +powers of moving or breathing, for something laid hold of his heels with +deadly grip. He was getting his breath to yell when a familiar voice at +his ear said, in a tone somewhere between a whisper and a groan: + +"Say, what they up to all this while? I'm sick o' wait'n' out there." + +Frank had become impatient; as for John, he had been so absorbed by the +scenes within, he had not noticed how the frosty ground was slowly +stiffening his limbs and setting his teeth chattering. They were both +now looking in at the window. John had simply pointed with his mittened, +stubby thumb toward the interior, and Frank had crawled along to a place +beside him. + +Mixing the drinks had produced the disastrous effect which Hank and +Bedloe had anticipated. The fun became uproarious. There were songs and +dances by various members of the Nagle gang, but Lime's crowd, being in +the minority, kept quiet, occasionally standing treat as was the proper +thing to do. + +But Steve grew wilder and more irritable every moment. He seemed to have +drunk just enough to let loose the terrible force that slept in his +muscles. He had tugged at his throat until the strings of his woolen +shirt loosened, displaying the great, sloping muscles of his neck and +shoulders, white as milk and hard as iron. His eyes rolled restlessly to +and fro as he paced the floor. His panther-like step was full of a +terrible suggestiveness. The breath of the boys at the window came +quicker and quicker. They saw he was working himself into a rage that +threatened momentarily to break forth into a violence. He realized that +this was a crisis in his career; his reputation was at stake. + +Young as John was, he understood the whole matter as he studied the +restless Steve, and compared him with his impassive hero, sitting +immovable. + +"You see Lime can't go away," he explained, breathlessly, to Frank, in a +whisper, "'cause they'd tell it all over the country that he backed down +for Steve. He daresn't leave." + +"Steve ain't no durn fool," returned the superior wisdom of Frank, in +the same cautious whisper, keeping his eyes on the bar-room. "See Lime +there, cool as a cucumber. He's from the pineries, he is." He ended in a +tone of voice intended to convey that fighting was the principal study +of the pineries, and that Lime had graduated with the highest honors. +"Steve ain't a-go'n' to pitch into him yet awhile, you bet y'r bottom +dollar; he ain't drunk enough for that." + +Each time the invitation for another drink was given, they noticed that +Lime kept on the outside of the crowd, and some one helped him to his +glass. "Don't you see he ain't drinkin'. He's throwin' it away," said +Frank; "there, see! He's foolun' 'em; he ain't a-go'n' to be drunk when +Steve tackles him. Oh, there'll be music in a minute or two." + +Steve now walked the floor, pouring forth a flood of profanity and +challenges against men who were not present. He had not brought himself +to the point of attacking the unmoved and silent giant. Some of the +younger men, and especially the pleader against mixed drinks, had +succumbed, and were sleeping heavily on the back end of the bar and on +the billiard table. Hank was getting anxious, and the forced smile on +his face was painful to see. Over the whole group there was a singular +air of waiting. No one was enjoying himself, and all wished that they +were on the road home, but there was no way out of it now. It was +evident that Lime purposed forcing the beginning of the battle on Steve. +He sat in statuesque repose. + +Steve had got his hat in his hand and held it doubled up like a club, +and every time that he turned in his restless walk he struck the bar a +resounding blow. His eyes seemed to see nothing, although they moved +wildly from side to side. + +He lifted up his voice in a raucous snarl. "I'm the man that struck +Billy Patterson! I'm the man that bunted the bull off the bridge! +Anybody got anything to say, now's his time. I'm here. Bring on your +champion." + +Foam came into the corners of his mouth, and the veins stood out on his +neck. His red face shone with its swollen veins. He smashed his fists +together, threw his hat on the floor, tramped on it, snarling out +curses. Nothing kept him in check save the imperturbability of the +seated figure. Everybody expected him to clear the saloon to prove his +power. + +Bedloe, who was asleep on the table, precipitated matters by rolling off +with a prodigious noise amid a pandemonium of howls and laughter. In his +anxiety to see what was going on, Frank thrust his head violently +against the window, and it crashed in, sending the glass rattling down +on the table. + +Steve looked up, a red sheen in his eyes like that of a wild beast. +Instantly his fury burst out against this new object of attention--a +wild, unreasoning rage. + +"What you doen' there? Who air ye, ye mangy little dog?" + +Both boys sank back in tumultuous, shuddering haste, and rolled down the +embankment, while they heard the voice of Steve thundering: "Fetch the +little whelp here!" + +There was a rush from the inside, a sudden outpouring, and the next +moment John felt a hand touch his shoulder. Steve dragged him around to +the front of the saloon before he could draw his breath or utter a +sound. The rest crowded around. + +"What are y' doen' there?" said Steve, shaking him with insane +vindictiveness. + +"Drop that boy!" said the voice of Lime, and voice never sounded +sweeter. "Drop that boy!" he repeated, and his voice had a peculiar +sound, as if it came through his teeth. + +Steve dropped him, and turned with a grating snarl upon Lime, who opened +his way through the excited crowd while Johnny stumbled, leaped and +crawled out of the ring and joined Frank. + +"Oh, it's you, is it? You white-livered"----He did not finish, for the arm +of the blond giant shot out against his face like a beetle, and down he +rolled on the grass. The sound of the blow made Johnny give an involuntary, +quick cry. + +"No human bein' could have stood up agin that blow," Crandall said +afterwards. "It was like a mule a-kickin'." + +As Steve slowly gained his feet, the silence was so great that Johnny +could hear the thumping of his heart and the fierce, almost articulate +breathing of Steve. The chatter and roar of the drunken crowd had been +silenced by this encounter of the giants. The open door, where Hank +stood, sent a reddish bar of light upon the two men as they faced each +other with a sort of terrific calm. In his swift gaze in search of his +brother, John noticed the dark wood, the river murmuring drowsily over +its foam-wreathed pebbles, and saw his brother's face white with +excitement, but not fear. + +Lime's blow had dazed Steve for a moment, but at the same time it had +sobered him. He came to his feet with a rising mutter that sounded like +the swelling snarl of a tiger. He had been taken by surprise before, and +he now came forward with his hands in position, to vindicate his +terrible reputation. The two men met in a frightful struggle. Blows that +meant murder were dealt by each. Each slapping thud seemed to carry the +cracking of bones in it. Steve was the more agile of the two and +circled rapidly around, striking like a boxer. + +Every time his face came into view, with set teeth and ferocious scowl, +the boys' spirits fell. But when they saw the calm, determined eyes of +Lime, his watchful, confident look, they grew assured. All depended upon +him. The Nagle gang were like wolves in their growing ferocity, and as +they outnumbered the other party two to one, it was a critical quarter +of an hour. In a swift retrospect they remembered the frightful tales +told of this very spot--of the killing of Lars Peterson and his brother +Nels, and the brutal hammering a crowd of drunken men had given to Big +Ole, of the Wapsy. + +The blood was trickling down Lime's face from a cut on his cheek, but +Steve's face was swollen and ghastly from the three blows which he had +received. Lime was saving himself for a supreme effort. The Nagle party, +encouraged by the sound of the blows which Steve struck, began to yell +and to show that they were ready to take a hand in the contest. + +"Go it, Steve, we'll back yeh! Give it to 'im. We're with yeh! We'll +tend to the rest." They began to pull off their coats. + +Rice also threw off his coat. "Never mind these cowards, Lime. Hold on! +Fair play!" he yelled, as he saw young Nagle about to strike Lime from +behind. + +His cry startled Lime, and with a sudden leap he dealt Steve a terrible +blow full in the face, and as he went reeling back made another leaping +lunge and struck him to the ground--a motion that seemed impossible to +one of his bulk. But as he did so one of the crowd tripped him and sent +him rolling upon the prostrate Steve, whose friends leaped like a pack +of snarling wolves upon Lime's back. There came into the giant's heart a +terrible, blind, desperate resolution. With a hoarse, inarticulate cry +he gathered himself for one supreme effort and rose from the heap like a +bear shaking off a pack of dogs; and holding the stunned and nerveless +Steve in his great hands, with one swift, incredible effort literally +swept his opponent's body in the faces of the infuriated men rushing +down upon him. + +"Come on, you red hellions!" he shouted, in a voice like a lion at bay. +The light streamed on his bared head, his hands were clinched, his chest +heaved in great gasps. There was no movement. The crowd waited with +their hands lowered; before such a man they could not stand for a +moment. They could not meet the blaze of his eyes. For a moment it +seemed as if no one breathed. + +In the silence that followed, Bill, who had kept out of sight up to this +moment, piped out in a high, weak falsetto, with a comically +questioning accent: "All quiet along the Potomac, boys?" + +Lime unbraced, wiped his face and laughed. The others joined in +cautiously. "No, thank yez, none in mine," said Sheehan, in answer to +the challenge of Lime. "Whan Oi take to fightin' stame-ingins Oi'll lit +you knaw." + +"Well, I should say so," said another. "Lime, you're the best man that +walks this State." + +"Git out of the way, you white-livered hound, or I'll blow hell out o' +yeh," said Steve, who had recovered himself sufficiently to know what it +all meant. He lay upon the grass behind the rest and was weakly trying +to get his revolver sighted upon Lime. One of the men caught him by the +shoulder and the rest yelled: + +"Hyare, Steve, no shootin'. It was a fair go, and you're whipped." + +Steve only repeated his warnings to get out of the way. Lime turned upon +him and kicked the weapon from his outstretched hand, breaking his arm +at the wrist. The bullet went flying harmlessly into the air, and the +revolver hurtled away into the shadows. + +Walking through the ring, Lime took John by the hand and said: "Come, +boy, this is no place for you. Let's go home. Fellers," he drawled in +his customary lazy way, "when y' want me you know where to find me. +Come, boys, the circus is over, the last dog is hung." + +For the first mile or two there was a good deal of talk, and Bill said +he knew that Lime could whip the whole crowd. + +"But where was you, Bill, about the time they had me down? I don't +remember hearin' anything of you 'long about that time, Bill." + +Bill had nothing to say. + +"Made me think somehow of Daniel in the lions' den," said Johnny. + +"What do you mean by that, Johnny?" said Bill. "It made me think of a +circus. The circus there'll be when Lime's woman finds out what he's +been a-doin'." + +"Great Scott, boys, you mustn't tell on me," said Lime, in genuine +alarm. + +As for John, he lay with his head in Lime's lap, looking up at the glory +of the starlit night, and with a confused mingling of the play, of the +voice of the lovely woman, of the shouts and blows at the brewery in his +mind, and with the murmur of the river and the roll and rumble of the +wagon blending in his ears, he fell into a sleep which the rhythmic beat +of the horses' hoofs did not interrupt. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART VI. + + +VILLAGE CRONIES: A GAME OF CHECKERS AT THE GROCERY. + + The village life abounds with jokers, + Shiftless, conscienceless and shrewd. + + +SOME VILLAGE CRONIES. + + +Colonel Peavy had just begun the rubber with Squire Gordon, of Cerro +Gordo County. They were seated in Robie's grocery, behind the rusty old +cannon stove, the checker-board spread out on their knees. The Colonel +was grinning in great glee, wringing his bony yellow hands in nervous +excitement, in strong contrast to the stolid calm of the fat Squire. + +The Colonel had won the last game by a large margin, and was sure he had +his opponent's dodges well in hand. It was early in the evening, and the +grocery was comparatively empty. Robie was figuring at a desk, and old +Judge Brown stood in legal gravity warming his legs at the red-hot +stove, and swaying gently back and forth in speechless content. It was a +tough night outside, one of the toughest for years. The frost had +completely shut the window panes as with thick blankets of snow. The +streets were silent. + +"I don't know," said the Judge, reflectively, to Robie, breaking the +silence in his rasping, judicial bass, "I don't know as there has been +such a night as this since the night of February 2d, '59; that was the +night James Kirk went under--Honorable Kirk, you remember--knew him +well. Brilliant fellow, ornament to Western bar. But whisky downed him. +It'll beat the oldest man--I wonder where the boys all are to-night? +Don't seem to be any one stirring on the street. Ain't frightened out by +the cold?" + +"Shouldn't wonder." Robie was busy at his desk, and not in humor for +conversation on reminiscent lines. The two old war-dogs at the board had +settled down to one of those long, silent struggles which ensue when two +champions meet. In the silence which followed, the Judge was looking +attentively at the back of the Colonel, and thinking that the old thief +was getting about down to skin and bone. He turned with a yawn to Robie, +saying: + +"This cold weather must take hold of the old Colonel terribly, he's so +damnably thin and bald, you know,--bald as a babe. The fact is, the old +Colonel ain't long for this world, anyway; think so, Hank?" Robie making +no reply, the Judge relapsed into silence for awhile, watching the cat +(perilously walking along the edge of the upper shelf) and listening to +the occasional hurrying footsteps outside. "I don't know _when_ I've +seen the windows closed up so, Hank; go down to thirty below to-night; +devilish strong wind blowing, too; tough night on the prairies, Hank." + +"You bet," replied Hank, briefly. + +The Colonel was plainly getting excited. His razor-like back curved +sharper than ever as he peered into the intricacies of the board to spy +the trap which the fat Squire had set for him. At this point the squeal +of boots on the icy walk outside paused, and a moment later Amos Ridings +entered, with whiskers covered with ice, and looking like a huge bear in +his buffalo coat. + +"By Josephus! it's cold," he roared, as he took off his gloves and began +to warm his face and hands at the fire. + +"Is it?" asked the Judge, comfortably, rising on his tiptoes, only to +fall back into his usual attitude legal, legs well spread, shoulders +thrown back. + +"You bet it is!" replied Amos. "I d'know when I've felt the cold more'n +I have t'-day. It's jest snifty; doubles me up like a jack-knife, Judge. +How do you stand it?" + +"Toler'ble, toler'ble, Amos. But we're agin', we ain't what we were +once. Cold takes hold of us." + +"That's a fact," answered Amos to the retrospective musings of the +Judge. "Time was you an' me would go t' singing-school or sleigh-riding +with the girls on a night like this and never notice it." + +"Yes, sir; yes, sir!" said the Judge with a sigh. It was a little +uncertain in Robie's mind whether the Judge was regretting the lost +ability to stand the cold, or the lost pleasure of riding with the +girls. + +"Great days, those, gentlemen! Lived in Vermont then. Hot-blooded--lungs +like an ox. I remember, Sallie Dearborn and I used to go a-foot to +singing-school down the valley four miles. But now, wouldn't go riding +to-night with the handsomest woman in America, and the best cutter in +Rock River." + +"Oh! you've got both feet in the grave up t' the ankles, anyway," said +Robie, from his desk, but the Judge immovably gazed at the upper shelf +on the other side of the room, where the boilers and pans and washboards +were stored. + +"The Judge is a little on the sentimental order to-night," said Amos. + +"Hold on, Colonel! hold on. You've _got_ 'o jump. Hah! hah!" roared +Gordon from the checker-board. "That's right, that's right!" he ended, +as the Colonel complied reluctantly. + +"Sock it to the old cuss!" commented Amos. "What I was going to say," he +resumed, rolling down the collar of his coat, "was, that when my wife +helped me bundle up t-'night, she said I was gitt'n' t' be an old +granny. We _are_ agin', Judge, the's no denyin' that. We're both gray as +Norway rats now. An' speaking of us agin' reminds me,--have y' noticed +how bald the old Kyernel's gitt'n'?" + +"I have, Amos," answered the Judge, mournfully. "The old man's head is +showing age, showing age! Getting thin up there, ain't it?" + +The old Colonel bent to his work with studied abstraction, and even when +Amos said, judicially, after long scrutiny: "Yes, he'll soon be as bald +as a plate," he only lifted one yellow, freckled, bony hand, and brushed +his carroty growth of hair across the spot under discussion. Gordon +shook his fat paunch in silent laughter, nearly displacing the board. + +"I was just telling Robie," pursued Brown, still retaining his +reminiscent intonation, "that this storm takes the cake over +anything"---- + +At this point Steve Roach and another fellow entered. Steve was Ridings' +hired hand, a herculean fellow, with a drawl, and a liability for taking +offense quite as remarkable. + +"Say! gents, I'm no spring rooster, but this jest gits away with +anything in line of cold _I_ ever see." + +While this communication was being received in ruminative silence, Steve +was holding his ears in his hand and gazing at the intent champions at +the board. There they sat; the old Squire panting and wheezing in his +excitement, for he was planning a great "snap" on the Colonel, whose +red and freckled nose almost touched the board. It was a solemn battle +hour. The wind howled mournfully outside, the timbers of the store +creaked in the cold, and the huge cannon stove roared in steady bass. + +"Speaking about ears," said Steve, after a silence, "dummed if I'd like +t' be quite s' bare 'round the ears as Kernel there. I wonder if any o' +you fellers has noticed how the ol' feller's lost hair this last summer. +He's gittin' bald, they's no coverin' it up--gittin' bald as a plate." + +"You're right, Stephen," said the Judge, as he gravely took his stand +behind his brother advocate and studied, with the eye of an adept, the +field of battle. "We were noticing it when you came in. It's a sad +thing, but it must be admitted." + +"It's the Kyernel's brains wearin' up through his hair, I take it," +commented Amos, as he helped himself to a handful of peanuts out of the +bag behind the counter. "Say, Steve, did y' stuff up that hole in front +of ol' Barney?" + +A shout was heard outside, and then a rush against the door, and +immediately two young fellows burst in, followed by a fierce gust of +snow. One was Professor Knapp, the other Editor Foster, of the _Morning +Call_. + +"Well, gents, how's this for high?" said Foster, in a peculiar tone of +voice, at which all began to smile. He was a slender fellow with +close-clipped, assertive red hair. "In this company we now have the +majesty of the law, the power of the press, and the underpinning of the +American civilization all represented. Hello! There are a couple of old +roosters with their heads together. Gordon, my old enemy, how are you?" + +Gordon waved him off with a smile and a wheeze. "Don't bother me now. +I've got 'im. I'm laying f'r the old dog. Whist!" + +"Got nothing!" snarled the Colonel. "You try that on if you want to. +Just swing that man in there if you think it's healthy for him. Just as +like as not, you'll slip up on that little trick." + +"Ha! Say you so, old True Penny? The Kunnel has met a foeman worthy of +his steel," said Foster, in great glee, as he bent above the Colonel. "I +know. _How_ do I know, quotha? By the curve on the Kunnel's back. The +size of the parabola described by that backbone accurately gauges his +adversary's skill. But, by the way, gentlemen, have you--but that's a +nice point, and I refer all nice points to Professor Knapp. Professor, +is it in good taste to make remarks concerning the dress or features of +another?" + +"Certainly not," answered Knapp, a handsome young fellow with a yellow +mustache. + +"Not when the person is an esteemed public character, like the Colonel +here? What I was about to remark, if it had been proper, was that the +old fellow is getting wofully bald. He'll soon be bald as an egg." + +"Say!" asked the Colonel, "I want to know how long you're going to keep +this thing up? Somebody's dummed sure t' get hurt soon." + +"There, there! Colonel," said Brown, soothingly, "don't get excited; +you'll lose the rubber. Don't mind 'em. Keep cool." + +"Yes, keep cool, Kunnel; it's only our solicitude for your welfare," +chipped in Foster. Then, addressing the crowd in a general sort of way, +he speculated: "Curious how a man, a plain American citizen like Colonel +Peavy, wins a place in the innermost affections of a whole people." + +"That's so!" murmured the rest. + +"He can't grow bald without deep sympathy from his fellow-citizens. It +amounts to a public calamity." + +The old Colonel glared in speechless wrath. + +"Say! gents," pleaded Gordon, "let up on the old man for the present. +He's going to need all of himself if he gets out o' the trap he's in +now." He waved his fat hand over the Colonel's head, and smiled blandly +at the crowd hugging the stove. + +"My head may be bald," grated the old man with a death's-head grin, +indescribably ferocious, "but it's got brains enough in it to skunk any +man in this crowd three games out o' five." + +"The ol' man rather gits the laugh on y' there, gents," called Robie +from the other side of the counter. "I hain't seen the old skeesix play +better'n he did last night, in years." + +"Not since his return from Canada, after the war, I reckon," said Amos, +from the kerosene barrel. + +"Hold on, Amos," put in the Judge warningly, "that's outlawed. Talking +about being bald and the war reminds me of the night Walters and I---- +By the way, where is Walters to-night?" + +"Sick," put in the Colonel, straightening up exultantly. "I waxed him +three straight games last night. You won't see him again till spring. +Skunked him once, and beat him twice." + +"Oh, git out." + +"Hear the old seed twitter!" + +"Did you ever notice, gentlemen, how lying and baldness go together?" +queried Foster, reflectively. + +"No! Do they?" + +"Invariably. I've known many colossal liars, and they were all as bald +as apples." + +The Colonel was getting nervous, and was so slow that even Gordon (who +could sit and stare at the board a full half hour without moving) began +to be impatient. + +"Come, Colonel, marshal your forces a little more promptly. If you're +going at me _echelon_, sound y'r bugle; I'm ready." + +"Don't worry," answered the Colonel, in his calmest nasal. "I'll +accommodate you with all the fight you want." + +"Did it ever occur to you," began the Judge again, addressing the crowd +generally, as he moved back to the stove and lit another cigar, "did it +ever occur to you that it is a little singular a man should get bald on +the _top_ of his head first? Curious fact. So accustomed to it we no +longer wonder at it. Now see the Colonel there. Quite a growth of hair +on his clapboarding, as it were, but devilish thin on his roof." + +Here the Colonel looked up and tried to say something, but the Judge +went on imperturbably: + +"Now, I take it that it's strictly providential that a man gets bald on +top of his head first, because, if he _must_ get bald, it is best to get +bald where it can be covered up." + +"By jinks, that's a fact!" said Foster, in high admiration of the +Judge's ratiocination. Steve was specially pleased, and, drawing a +neck-yoke from a barrel standing near, pounded the floor vigorously. + +"Talking about being bald," put in Foster, "reminds me of a scheme of +mine, which is to send no one out to fight Indians but bald men. Think +how powerless they'd be in"---- + +The talk now drifted off to Indians, politics and religion, edged round +to the war, when the grave Judge began telling Ridings and Robie just +how "Kilpatrick charged along the Granny White Turnpike," and, on a +sheet of wrapping-paper, was showing where Major John Dilrigg fell. "I +was on his left, about thirty yards, when I saw him throw up his +hand"---- + +Foster in a low voice was telling something to the Professor and two or +three others, which made them whoop with uncontrollable merriment, when +the roaring voice of big Sam Walters was heard outside, and a moment +later he rolled into the room, filling it with his noise. Lottridge, the +watchmaker, and Erlberg, the German baker, came in with him. + +"_Hello_, hello, _hello_! All here, are yeh?" + +"All here waiting for you--and the turnkey," said Foster. + +"Well, here I am. Always on hand, like a sore thumb in huskin' season. +What's goin' on here? A game, hey? Hello, Gordon, it's you, is it? +Colonel, I owe you several for last night. But what the devil yo' got +your cap on fur, Colonel? Ain't it warm enough here for yeh?" + +The desperate Colonel, who had snatched up his cap when he heard Walters +coming, grinned painfully, pulling his straggly red and white beard +nervously. The strain was beginning to tell on his iron nerves. He +removed the cap, and with a few muttered words went back to the game, +but there was a dangerous gleam in his fishy blue eyes, and the grizzled +tufts of red hair above his eyes lowered threateningly. A man who is +getting swamped in a game of checkers is not in a mood to bear +pleasantly any remarks on his bald head. + +"Oh! don't take it off, Colonel," went on his tormentor, hospitably. +"When a man gets as old as you are, he's privileged to wear his cap. I +wonder if any of you fellers have noticed how the Colonel is shedding +his hair." + +The old man leaped up, scattering the men on the checkerboard, which +flew up and struck Squire Gordon in the face, knocking him off his +stool. The old Colonel was ashy pale, and his eyes glared out from under +his huge brow like sapphires lit by flame. His spare form, clothed in a +seedy Prince Albert frock, towered with a singular dignity. His features +worked convulsively a moment, then he burst forth like the explosion of +a safety valve: + +"Shuttup, damyeh!" + +And then the crowd whooped, roared and rolled on the counters and +barrels, and roared and whooped again. They stamped and yelled, and ran +around like fiends, kicking the boxes and banging the coal scuttle in a +perfect pandemonium of mirth, leaving the old man standing there +helpless in his wrath, mad enough to shoot. Steve was just preparing to +seize the old man from behind, when Squire Gordon, struggling to his +feet among the spittoons, cried out, in the voice of a colonel of Fourth +of July militia: + +"H-O-L-D!" + +Silence was restored, and all stood around in expectant attitudes to +hear the Squire's explanation. He squared his elbows, shoved up his +sleeves, puffed out his fat cheeks, moistened his lips, and began +pompously: + +"Gentlemen"---- + +"You've hit it; that's us," said some of the crowd in applause. + +"Gentlemen of Rock River, when, in the course of human events, rumor had +blow'd to my ears the history of the checker-playing of Rock River, and +when I had waxed Cerro Gordo, and Claiborne, and Mower, then, when I say +to my ears was borne the clash of resounding arms in Rock River, the +emporium of Rock County, then did I yearn for more worlds to conquer, +and behold, I buckled on my armor and I am here." + +"Behold, he is here," said Foster, in confirmation of the statement. +"Good for you, Squire; git breath and go for us some more." + +"Hurrah for the Squire," etc. + +"I came seekin' whom I might devour, like a raging lion. I sought foeman +worthy of my steel. I leaped into the arena and blew my challenge to +the four quarters of Rock"---- + +"Good f'r you! Settemupagin! Go it, you old balloon," they all +applauded. + +"Knowing my prowess, I sought a fair fout and no favors. I met the +enemy, and he was mine. Champion after champion went down before me +like--went down like--Ahem! went _down_ before me like grass before the +mighty cyclone of the Andes." + +"Listen to the old blowhard," said Steve. + +"Put him out," said the speaker, imperturbably. "Gentlemen, have I the +floor?" + +"You have," replied Brown, "but come to the point. The Colonel is +anxious to begin shooting." The Colonel, who began to suspect himself +victimized, stood wondering what under heaven they were going to do +next. + +"I am a-gitt'n' there," said the orator with a broad and sunny +condescension. "I found your champions an' laid 'em low. I waxed +Walters, and then I tackled the Colonel. I tried the _echelon_, the +'general advance,' then the 'give away' and 'flank' movements. But the +Colonel _was there_! Till this last game it was a fair field and no +favor. And now, gentlemen of Rock, I desire t' state to my deeply +respected opponent that he is still champion of Rock, and I'm not sure +but of Northern Iowa." + +"Three cheers for the Kunnel!" + +And while they were being given the Colonel's brows relaxed, and the +champion of Cerro Gordo continued earnestly: + +"And now I wish to state to Colonel the solemn fact that I had nothing +to do with the job put up on him to-night. I scorn to use such means in +a battle. Colonel, you may be as bald as an apple, or an egg, yes, or a +_plate_, but you can play more checkers than any man I ever met; more +checkers than any other man on God's green footstool. With one single, +lone exception--myself." + +At this moment, somebody hit the Squire from Cerro Gordo with a decayed +apple, and as the crowd shouted and groaned Robie turned down the lights +on the tumult. The old Colonel seized the opportunity for putting a +handful of salt down Walters' neck, and slipped out of the door like a +ghost. As the crowd swarmed out on the icy walk, Editor Foster yelled: + +"Gents! let me give you a pointer. Keep your eye peeled for the next +edition of the Rock River _Morning Call_." + +And the bitter wind swept away the answering shouts of the pitiless +gang. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART VII. + + +DRIFTING CRANE: THE INDIAN AND THE PIONEER. + + Before them, surely, sullenly and slow, + The desperate and cheated Indians go. + + +DRIFTING CRANE. + + +The people of Boomtown invariably spoke of Henry Wilson as the oldest +settler in the Jim Valley, as he was of Buster County; but the Eastern +man, with his ideas of an "old settler," was surprised as he met the +short, silent, middle-aged man, who was very loath to tell anything +about himself, and about whom many strange and thrilling stories were +told by good story-tellers. In 1879 he was the only settler in the upper +part of the valley, living alone on the banks of the Elm, a slow, +tortuous stream pulsing lazily down the valley, too small to be called a +river and too long to be called a creek. For two years, it is said, +Wilson had only the company of his cattle, especially during the +winter-time, and now and then a visit from an Indian, or a trapper after +mink and musk-rats. + +Between his ranch and the settlements in Eastern Dakota there was the +wedge-shaped reservation known as the Sisseton Indian Reserve, on which +were stationed the customary agency and company of soldiers. But, of +course, at that time the Indians were not restricted closely to the +bounds of the reserve, but ranged freely over the vast and beautiful +prairie lying between the coteaux or ranges of low hills which mark out +"the Jim Valley." The valley was unsurveyed for the most part, and the +Indians naturally felt a sort of proprietorship in it, and when Wilson +drove his cattle down into the valley and squatted, the chief, Drifting +Crane, welcomed him, as a host might, to an abundant feast whose +hospitality was presumed upon, but who felt the need of sustaining his +reputation as a host, and submitted graciously. + +The Indians during the first summer got to know Wilson, and liked him +for his silence, his courage, his generosity; but the older men pondered +upon the matter a great deal and watched with grave faces to see him +ploughing up the sod for his garden. There was something strange in this +solitary man thus deserting his kindred, coming here to live alone with +his cattle; they could not understand it. What they said in those +pathetic, dimly lighted lodges will never be known; but when winter +came, and the new-comer did not drive his cattle back over the hills as +they thought he would, then the old chieftains took long counsel upon +it. Night after night they smoked upon it, and at last Drifting Crane +said to two of his young men: "Go ask this cattleman why he remains in +the cold and snow with his cattle. Ask him why he does not drive his +cattle home." + +This was in March, and one evening a couple of days later, as Wilson was +about re-entering his shanty at the close of his day's work, he was +confronted by two stalwart Indians, who greeted him pleasantly. + +"How d'e do? How d'e do?" he said in reply. "Come in. Come in and take a +snack." + +The Indians entered and sat silently while he put some food on the +table. They hardly spoke till after they had eaten. The Indian is always +hungry, for the reason that his food supply is insufficient and his +clothing poor. When they sat on the cracker-boxes and soap-boxes which +served as seats, they spoke. They told him of the chieftain's message. +They said they had come to assist him in driving his cattle back across +the hills; that he must go. + +To all this talk in the Indian's epigrammatic way, and in the dialect +which has never been written, the rancher replied almost as briefly: +"You go back and tell Drifting Crane that I like this place; that I'm +here to stay; that I don't want any help to drive my cattle. I'm on the +lands of the Great Father at Washington, and Drifting Crane ain't got +any say about it. Now that sizes the whole thing up. I ain't got +anything against you nor against him, but I'm a settler; that's my +constitution; and now I'm settled I'm going to stay." + +While the Indians discussed his words between themselves he made a bed +of blankets on the floor and said: "I never turn anybody out. A white +man is just as good as an Indian as long as he behaves himself as well. +You can bunk here." + +The Indians didn't understand his words fully, but they did understand +his gesture, and they smiled and accepted the courtesy, so like their +own rude hospitality. Then they all smoked a pipe of tobacco in silence, +and at last Wilson turned in and went serenely off to sleep, hearing the +mutter of the Indians lying before the fire. + +In the morning he gave them as good a breakfast as he had--bacon and +potatoes, with coffee and crackers. Then he shook hands, saying: "Come +again. I ain't got anything against you. You've done y'r duty. Now go +back and tell your chief what I've said. I'm at home every day. Good +day." + +The Indians smiled kindly, and drawing their blankets over their arms, +went away toward the east. + +During April and May two or three reconnoitering parties of land-hunters +drifted over the hills and found him out. He was glad to see them, for, +to tell the truth, the solitude of his life was telling on him. The +winter had been severe, and he had hardly caught a glimpse of a white +face during the three midwinter months, and his provisions were scanty. + +These parties brought great news. One of them was the advance surveying +party for a great Northern railroad, and they said a line of road was to +be surveyed during the summer if their report was favorable. + +"Well, what d'ye think of it?" Wilson asked, with a smile. + +"Think! It's immense!" said a small man in the party, whom the rest +called Judge Balser. "Why, they'll be a town of four thousand +inhabitants in this valley before snow flies. We'll send the surveyors +right over the divide next month." + +They sent some papers to Wilson a few weeks later, which he devoured as +a hungry dog might devour a plate of bacon. The papers were full of the +wonderful resources of the Jim Valley. It spoke of the nutritious +grasses for stock. It spoke of the successful venture of the lonely +settler Wilson, how his stock fattened upon the winter grasses without +shelter, etc., what vegetables he grew, etc., etc. + +Wilson was reading this paper for the sixth time one evening in May. He +had laid off his boots, his pipe was freshly filled, and he sat in the +doorway in vast content, unmindful of the glory of color that filled the +western sky, and the superb evening chorus of the prairie-chickens, +holding conventions on every hillock. He felt something touch him on the +shoulder, and looked up to see a tall Indian gazing down upon him with a +look of strange pride and gravity. Wilson sprang to his feet and held +out his hand. + +"Drifting Crane, how d'e do?" + +The Indian bowed, but did not take the settler's hand. Drifting Crane +would have been called old if he had been a white man, and there was a +look of age in the fixed lines of his powerful, strongly modeled face, +but no suspicion of weakness in the splendid poise of his broad, +muscular body. There was a smileless gravity about his lips and eyes +which was very impressive. + +"I'm glad to see you. Come in and get something to eat," said Wilson, +after a moment's pause. + +The chief entered the cabin and took a seat near the door. He took a cup +of milk and some meat and bread silently, and ate while listening to the +talk of the settler. + +"I don't brag on my biscuits, chief, but they _eat_, if a man is hungry +enough. An' the milk's all right. I suppose you've come to see why I +ain't moseying back over the divide?" + +The chief, after a long pause, began to speak in a low, slow voice, as +if choosing his words. He spoke in broken English, of course, but his +speech was very direct and plain, and had none of those absurd figures +of rhetoric which romancers invariably put into the mouths of Indians. +His voice was almost lion-like in its depth, and yet was not unpleasant. +It was easy to see that he was a chief by virtue of his own personality. + +"Cattleman, my young men brought me bad message from you. They brought +your words to me, saying he will not go away." + +"That's about the way the thing stands," replied Wilson, in response to +the question that was in the old chief's steady eyes. "I'm here to stay. +This ain't your land. This is Uncle Sam's land, and part of it'll be +mine as soon as the surveyors come to measure it off." + +"Who gave it away?" asked the chief. "My people were cheated out of it. +They didn't know what they were doing." + +"I can't help that. That's for Congress to say. That's the business of +the Great Father at Washington." Wilson's voice changed. He knew and +liked the chief; he didn't want to offend him. "They ain't no use making +a fuss, chief. You won't gain anything." + +There was a look of deep sorrow in the old man's face. At last he spoke +again: "The cattleman is welcome; but he must go, because whenever one +white man goes and calls it good, the others come. Drifting Crane has +seen it far in the east, twice. The white men come thick as the grass. +They tear up the sod. They build houses. They scare the buffalo away. +They spoil my young men with whisky. Already they begin to climb the +eastern hills. Soon they will fill the valley, and Drifting Crane and +his people will be surrounded. The sod will all be black." + +"I hope you're right," was the rancher's grim reply. + +"But they will not come if the cattleman go back to say the water is not +good. There is no grass, and the Indians own the land." + +Wilson smiled at the childish faith of the chief. "Won't do, +chief--won't do. That won't do any good. I might as well stay." + +The chief rose. He was touched by the settler's laugh; his eyes flashed; +his voice took on a sterner note. "The white man _must_ go!" + +Wilson rose also. He was not a large man, but he was a very resolute +one. "I shan't go!" he said, through his clinched teeth. Each man +understood the tones of the other perfectly. + +It was a thrilling, a significant scene. It was in absolute truth the +meeting of the modern vidette of civilization with one of the rear-guard +of retreating barbarism. Each man was a type; each was wrong, and each +was right. The Indian as true and noble from the barbaric point of view +as the white man. He was a warrior and hunter--made so by circumstances +over which he had no control. Guiltless as the panther, because war to +a savage is the necessity of life. + +The settler represented the unflagging energy and fearless heart of the +American pioneer. Narrow-minded, partly brutalized by hard labor and a +lonely life, yet an admirable figure for all that. As he looked into the +Indian's face he seemed to grow in height. He felt behind him all the +weight of the millions of westward-moving settlers; he stood the +representative of an unborn State. He took down a rifle from the +wall--the magazine rifle, most modern of guns; he patted the stock, +pulled the crank, throwing a shell into view. + +"You know this thing, chief?" + +The Indian nodded slightly. + +"Well, I'll go when--this--is--empty." + +"But my young men are many." + +"So are the white men--my brothers." + +The chief's head dropped forward. Wilson, ashamed of his boasting, put +the rifle back on the wall. + +"I'm not here to fight. You can kill me any time. You could 'a' killed +me to-night, but it wouldn't do any good. It 'ud only make it worse for +you. Why, they'll be a town in here bigger'n all your tribe before two +grass from now. It ain't no use, Drifting Crane; it's _got_ to be. You +an' I can't help n'r hinder it. I know just how you feel about it, but +I tell yeh it ain't no use to fight." + +Drifting Crane turned his head and gazed out on the western sky, still +red with the light of the fallen sun. His face was rigid as bronze, but +there was a dreaming, prophetic look in his eyes. A lump came into the +settler's throat; for the first time in his life he got a glimpse of the +infinite despair of the Indian. He forgot that Drifting Crane was the +representative of a "vagabond race;" he saw in him, or rather _felt_ in +him, something almost magnetic. He was a _man_, and a man of sorrows. +The settler's voice was husky when he spoke again, and his lips +trembled. + +"Chief, I'd go to-morrow if it 'ud do any good, but it won't--not a +particle. You know that, when you stop to think a minute. What good did +it do to massa_cree_ all them settlers at New Ulm? What good will it do +to murder me and a hundred others? Not a bit. A thousand others would +take our places. So I might just as well stay, and we might just as well +keep good friends. Killin' is out o' fashion; don't do any good." + +There was a twitching about the stern mouth of the Indian chief. He +understood all too well the irresistible logic of the pioneer. He kept +his martial attitude, but his broad chest heaved painfully, and his eyes +grew dim. At last he said: "Good-by. Cattleman right; Drifting Crane +wrong. Shake hands. Good-by." He turned and strode away. + +The rancher watched him till he mounted his pony, picketed down by the +river; watched him as, with drooping head and rein flung loose upon the +neck of his horse, he rode away into the dusk, hungry, weary and +despairing, to face his problem alone. Again, for the thousandth time, +the impotence of the Indian's arm and the hopelessness of his fate were +shown as perfectly as if two armies had met and soaked the beautiful +prairie sod with blood. + +"This is all wrong," muttered the settler. "There's land enough for us +all, or ought to be. I don't understand----Well, I'll leave it to Uncle +Sam anyway." He ended with a sigh. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART VIII. + + +OLD DADDY DEERING: THE COUNTRY FIDDLER. + + Like Scotland's harper, + Or Irish piper, with his droning lays, + Before the spread of modern life and light + The country fiddler slowly disappears. + + +DADDY DEERING. + +I. + + +They were threshing on Farmer Jennings' place when Daddy made his very +characteristic appearance. Milton, a boy of thirteen, was gloomily +holding sacks for the measurer, and the glory of the October day was +dimmed by the suffocating dust, and poisoned by the smarting beards and +chaff which had worked their way down his neck. The bitterness of the +dreaded task was deepened also by contrast with the gambols of his +cousin Billy, who was hunting rats with Growler amid the last sheaves of +the stack bottom. The piercing shrieks of Billy, as he clapped his hands +in murderous glee, mingled now and again with the barking of the dog. + +The machine seemed to fill the world with its snarling boom, which +became a deafening yell when the cylinder ran empty for a moment. It was +nearly noon, and the men were working silently, with occasional glances +toward the sun to see how near dinner-time it was. The horses, dripping +with sweat, and with patches of foam under their harness, moved round +and round steadily to the cheery whistle of the driver. + +The wild, imperious song of the bell-metal cog-wheel had sung into +Milton's ears till it had become a torture, and every time he lifted his +eyes to the beautiful far-off sky, where the clouds floated like ships, +a lump of rebellious anger rose in his throat. Why should he work in +this choking dust and deafening noise while the hawks could sail and +sweep from hill to hill with nothing to do but play? + +Occasionally his uncle, the feeder, smiled down upon him, his face black +as a negro, great goggles of glass and wire-cloth covering his merry +eyes. His great good-nature shone out in the flash of his white teeth, +behind his dusky beard, and he tried to encourage Milton with his smile. +He seemed tireless to the other hands. He was so big and strong. He had +always been Milton's boyish hero. So Milton crowded back the tears that +came into his eyes, and would not let his uncle see how childish he was. + +A spectator riding along the road would have remarked upon the lovely +setting for this picturesque scene--the low swells of prairie, shrouded +with faint, misty light from the unclouded sky, the flaming colors of +the trees, the faint sound of cow-bells, and the cheery sound of the +machine. But to be a tourist and to be a toiler in a scene like this +are quite different things. + +They were anxious to finish the setting by noon, and so the feeder was +crowding the cylinder to its limit, rolling the grain in with slow and +apparently effortless swaying from side to side, half-buried in the +loose yellow straw. But about eleven o'clock the machine came to a +stand, to wait while a broken tooth was being replaced, and Milton fled +from the terrible dust beside the measuring-spout, and was shaking the +chaff out of his clothing, when he heard a high, snappy, nasal voice +call down from the straw-pile. A tall man, with a face completely masked +in dust, was speaking to Mr. Jennings: + +"Say, young man, I guess you'll haf to send another man up here. It's +poorty stiff work f'r two; yes, sir, poorty stiff." + +"There, there! I thought you'd cry 'cavy,'" laughed Mr. Jennings. "I +told you it wasn't the place for an old man." + +"Old man," snarled the figure in the straw. "I ain't so old but I can +daown you, sir--yessir, condemmit, yessir!" + +"I'm your man," replied Jennings, smiling up at him. + +The man rolled down the side of the stack, disappearing in a cloud of +dust and chaff. When he came to light, Milton saw a tall, gaunt old man +of sixty years of age, or older. Nothing could be seen but a dusty +expanse of face, ragged beard, and twinkling, sharp little eyes. His +color was lost, his eyes half hid. Without waiting for ceremony, the men +clinched. The crowd roared with laughter, for though Jennings was the +younger, the older man was a giant still, and the struggle lasted for +some time. He made a gallant fight, but his breath gave out, and he lay +at last flat on his back. + +"I wish I was your age, young man," he said ruefully, as he rose. "I'd +knock the heads o' these young scamps t'gether--yessir!--I could do it, +too!". + +"Talk's a good dog, uncle," said a young man. + +The old man turned on him so ferociously that he fled. + +"Run, condemn yeh! I own y' can beat me at that." + +His face was not unpleasant, though his teeth were mainly gone, and his +skin the color of leather and wrinkled as a pan of cream. His eyes had a +certain sparkle of fun that belied his rasping voice, which seemed to +have the power to lift a boy clean off his feet. His frame was bent and +thin, but of great height and breadth, bony and tough as hickory. At +some far time vast muscles must have rolled on those giant limbs, but +toil had bent and stiffened him. + +"Never been sick a day 'n my life; no, sir!" he said, in his rapid, +rasping, emphatic way, as they were riding across the stubble to dinner. +"And by gol! I c'n stand as long at the tail of a stacker as any man, +sir. Dummed if I turn my hand for any man in the State; no, sir; no, +sir! But if I do two men's works, I am goin' to have two men's +pay--that's all, sir!" + +Jennings laughed and said: "All right, uncle. I'll send another man up +there this afternoon." + +The old man seemed to take a morbid delight in the hard and dirty +places, and his endurance was marvelous. He could stand all day at the +tail of a stacker, tirelessly pushing the straw away with an indifferent +air, as if it were all mere play. + +He measured the grain the next day, because it promised to be a noisier +and dustier job than working in the straw, and it was in this capacity +that Milton came to know and to hate him, and to associate him with that +most hated of all tasks, the holding of sacks. To a twelve-year-old boy +it seems to be the worst job in the world. + +All day while the hawks wheel and dip in the glorious air, and the trees +glow like banks of roses; all day, while the younger boys are tumbling +about the sun-lit straw, to be forced to stand holding sacks, like a +convict, was maddening. Daddy, whose rugged features, bent shoulders and +ragged cap loomed through the suffocating, blinding dust, necessarily +came to seem like the jailer who held the door to freedom. + +And when the dust and noise and monotony seemed the very hardest to bear +the old man's cackling laugh was sure to rise above the howl of the +cylinder. + +"Nem mind, sonny! Chaff ain't pizen; dust won't hurt ye a mite." And +when Milton was unable to laugh the old man tweaked his ear with his +leathery thumb and finger. + +Then he shouted long, disconnected yarns, to which Milton could make +neither head nor tail, and which grew at last to be inaudible to him, +just as the steady boom and snarl of the great machine did. Then he fell +to studying the old man's clothes, which were a wonder to him. He spent +a good deal of time trying to discover which were the original sections +of the coat, and especially of the vest, which was ragged and yellow +with age, with the cotton-batting working out; and yet Daddy took the +greatest care of it, folding it carefully and putting it away during the +heat of the day out of reach of the crickets. + +One of his peculiarities, as Mrs. Jennings learned on the second day, +was his habit of coming to breakfast. But he always earned all he got, +and more too; and, as it was probable that his living at home was +frugal, Mrs. Jennings smiled at his thrift, and quietly gave him his +breakfast if he arrived late, which was not often. + +He had bought a little farm not far away, and settled down into a mode +of life which he never afterward changed. As he was leaving at the end +of the third day, he said: + +"Now, sir; if you want any bootcherin' done, I'm y'r man. I don't turn +m' hand over f'r any man in the State; no, sir! I c'n git a hawg on the +gambrils jest a leetle quicker'n any other man I ever see; yes, sir; by +gum!" + +"All right, uncle; I'll send for you when I'm ready to kill." + + + + +II. + + +Hog-killing was one of the events of a boy's life on a Western farm, and +Daddy was destined to be associated in the minds of Shep and Milton with +another disagreeable job, that of building the fire and carrying water. + +It was very early on a keen, biting morning in November when Daddy came +driving into the yard with his rude, long-runnered sled, one horse half +his length behind the other in spite of the driver's clucking. He was +delighted to catch the boys behind in the preparation. + +"A-a-h-h-r-r-h-h!" he rasped out, "you lazy vagabon's? Why ain't you got +that fire blazin'? What the devil do y' mean, you rascals! Here it is +broad daylight, and that fire not built. I vum, sir, you need a +thrashin', the whole kit an bilun' of ye; yessir! Come, come, come! +hustle now, stir your boots! hustle y'r boots--Ha! ha! ha!" + +It was of no use to plead cold weather and damp chips. + +"What has that got to do with it, sir? I vum, sir, when I was your age, +I could make a fire of green red-oak; yessir! Don't talk to me of colds! +Stir your stumps and get warm, sir!" + +The old man put up his horses (and fed them generously with oats), and +then went to the house to ask for "a leetle something hot--mince pie or +sassidge." His request was very modest, but, as a matter of fact, he sat +down and ate a very hearty breakfast, while the boys worked away at the +fire under the big kettle. + +The hired man, under Daddy's direction, drew the bob-sleighs into +position on the sunny side of the corn-crib, and arranged the barrel at +the proper slant while the old man ground his knives, Milton turning the +grindstone--another hateful task, which Daddy's stories could not +alleviate. + +Daddy never finished a story. If he started in to tell about a +horse-trade, it infallibly reminded him of a cattle trade, and talking +of cattle switched him off upon logging, and logging reminded him of +some heavy snow-storms he had known. Each parenthesis outgrew its +proper limits, till he forgot what should have been the main story. His +stories had some compensation, for when he stopped to try to recollect +where he was, the pressure on the grindstone was released. + +At last the water was hot, and the time came to seize the hogs. This was +the old man's great moment. He stood in the pen and shrieked with +laughter while the hired men went rolling, one after the other, upon the +ground, or were bruised against the fence by the rush of the burly +swine. + +"You're a fine lot," he laughed. "Now, then, sir, _grab 'im_! Why don't +ye nail 'im? I vum, sir, if I couldn't do better'n that, sir, I'd sell +out; I would, sir, by gol! Get out o' the way!" + +With a lofty scorn he waved aside all help and stalked like a gladiator +toward the pigs huddled in one corner of the pen. And when the selected +victim was rushing by him, his long arm and great bony hand swept out, +caught him by the ear and flung him upon his side, squealing with +deafening shrillness. But in spite of his smiling concealment of effort, +Daddy had to lean against the fence and catch his breath even while he +boasted: + +"I'm an old codger, sir, but I'm worth--a dozen o' you--spindle-legged +chaps; dum me if I ain't, sir!" + +His pride in his ability to catch and properly kill a hog was as genuine +as the old knight-errant's pride in his ability to stick a knife into +another steel-clothed brigand like himself. When the slain shote was +swung upon the planking on the sled before the barrel, Daddy rested, +while the boys filled the barrel with water from the kettle. + +There was always a weird charm about this stage of the work to the boys. +The sun shone warm and bright in the lee of the corn-crib; the steam +rose up, white and voluminous, from the barrel; the eaves dropped +steadily; the hens ventured near, nervously, but full of curiosity, +while the men laughed and joked with Daddy, starting him off on long +stories, and winking at each other when his back was turned. + +At last he mounted his planking, selecting Mr. Jennings to pull upon the +other handle of the hog-hook. He considered he conferred a distinct +honor in this selection. + +"The time's been, sir, when I wouldn't thank any man for his help. No, +sir, wouldn't thank 'im." + +"What do you do with these things?" asked one of the men, kicking two +iron candlesticks which the old man laid conveniently near. + +"Scrape a hawg with them, sir? What did y' s'pose, you numbskull?" + +"Well, I never saw anything"---- + +"You'll have a chance mighty quick, sir. Grab ahold, sir! Swing 'im +around--there! Now easy, easy! Now, then, one, two; one, two--that's +right." + +While he dipped the porker in the water, pulling with his companion +rhythmically upon the hook, he talked incessantly, mixing up scraps of +stories and boastings of what he could do, with commands of what he +wanted the other man to do. + +"The best man I ever worked with. _Now turn 'im, turn 'im!_" he yelled, +reaching over Jennings' wrist. "Grab under my wrist. There! won't ye +never learn how to turn a hawg? _Now, out with 'im!_" was his next wild +yell, as the steaming hog was jerked out of the water upon the planking. +"Now try the hair on them ears! Beautiful scald," he said, clutching his +hand full of bristles and beaming with pride. "Never see anything finer. +Here, Bub, a pail of hot water, quick! Try one of them candlesticks! +They ain't no better scraper than the bottom of an old iron candlestick; +no, sir! Dum your new-fangled scrapers! I made a bet once with old Jake +Ridgeway that I could scrape the hair off'n two hawgs, by gum, quicker'n +he could one. Jake was blowin' about a new scraper he had ... + +"Yes, yes, yes, dump it right into the barrel. Condemmit! Ain't you got +no gumption?... So Sim Smith, he held the watch. Sim was a mighty good +hand t' work with; he was about the only man I ever sawed with who didn't +ride the saw. He could jerk a cross-cut saw.... Now let him in again, +now; _he-ho_, once again! _Roll him over now_; that foreleg needs a tech +o' water. Now out with him again; that's right, that's right! By gol, a +beautiful scald as ever I see!" + +Milton, standing near, caught his eye again. "Clean that ear, sir! What +the devil you standin' there for?" He returned to his story after a +pause. "A--n--d Jake he scraped away--_Hyare_," he shouted, suddenly, +"don't ruggle the skin like that! Can't you see the way I do it? Leave +it smooth as a baby, sir--yessir!" + +He worked on in this way all day, talking unceasingly, never shirking a +hard job, and scarcely showing fatigue at any moment. + +"I'm short o' breath a leetle, that's all; never git tired, but my wind +gives out. Dum cold got on me, too." + +He ate a huge supper of liver and potatoes, still working away hard at +an ancient horse-trade, and when he drove off at night, he had not yet +finished a single one of the dozen stories he had begun. + + + + +III. + + +But pitching grain and hog-killing were on the lower levels of his art, +for above all else Daddy loved to be called upon to play the fiddle for +dances. He "officiated" for the first time at a dance given by one of +the younger McTurgs. They were all fiddlers themselves--had been for +three generations--but they seized the opportunity of helping Daddy and +at the same time of relieving themselves of the trouble of furnishing +the music while the rest danced. + +Milton attended this dance, and saw Daddy for the first time earning his +money pleasantly. From that time on the associations around his +personality were less severe, and they came to like him better. He came +early, with his old fiddle in a time-worn white-pine box. His hair was +neatly combed to the top of his long, narrow head, and his face was very +clean. The boys all greeted him with great pleasure, and asked him where +he would sit. + +"Right on that table, sir; put a chair up there." + +He took his chair on the kitchen-table as if it were a throne. He wore +huge moccasins of moose-hide on his feet, and for special occasions like +this added a paper collar to his red woolen shirt. He took off his coat +and laid it across his chair for a cushion. It was all very funny to the +young people, but they obeyed him laughingly, and while they "formed +on," he sawed his violin and coaxed it up to concert pitch, and twanged +it and banged it into proper tunefulness. + +"A-a-a-ll-ready there!" he rasped out, with prodigious force. "Everybody +git into his place!" Then, lifting one huge foot, he put the fiddle +under his chin, and, raising his bow till his knuckles touched the +strings, he yelled, "Already, G'LANG!" and brought his foot down with a +startling bang on the first note. _Rye doodle doo, doodle doo._ + +As he went on and the dancers fell into rhythm, the clatter of heavy +boots seemed to thrill him with old-time memories, and he kept +boisterous time with his foot while his high, rasping nasal rang high +above the confusion of tongues and heels and swaying forms. + +"_Ladies_' gran' change! FOUR hands round! _Bal_-ance all! _Elly_-man +left! Back to play-cis." + +His eyes closed in a sort of intoxication of pleasure, but he saw all +that went on in some miraculous way. + +"_First_ lady lead to the right--_toodle rum rum! Gent_ foller after +(step along thar)! Four hands round"---- + +The boys were immensely pleased with him. They delighted in his antics +rather than in his tunes, which were exceedingly few and simple. They +seemed never to be able to get enough of one tune which he called +"Honest John," and which he played in his own way, accompanied by a +chant which he meant, without doubt, to be musical. + +"HON-ers tew your pardners--_tee teedle deedle dee dee dee dee!_ Stand +up straight an' put on your style! _Right_ an' left four"---- + +The hat was passed by the floor-manager during the evening, and Daddy +got nearly three dollars, which delighted Milton very much. + +At supper he insisted on his prerogative, which was to take the +prettiest girl out to supper. + +"Look-a-here, Daddy, ain't that crowdin' the mourners?" objected the +others. + +"What do you mean by that, sir? No, sir! Always done it, in Michigan and +Yark State both; yes, sir." + +He put on his coat ceremoniously, while the tittering girls stood about +the room waiting. He did not delay. His keen eyes had made selection +long before, and, approaching Rose Watson with old-fashioned, elaborate +gallantry, he said: "_May_ I have the pleasure?" and marched out +triumphantly, amidst shouts of laughter. + +His shrill laugh rang high above the rest at the table, as he said: "I'm +the youngest man in this crowd, sir! Demmit, I bet a hat I c'n dance +down any man in this crowd; yes, sir. The old man can do it yet." + +They all took sides in order to please him. + +"I'll bet he can," said Hugh McTurg; "I'll bet a dollar on Daddy." + +"I'll take the bet," said Joe Randall, and with great noise the match +was arranged to come the first thing after supper. + +"All right, sir; any time, sir. I'll let you know the old man is on +earth yet." + +While the girls were putting away the supper dishes, the young man lured +Daddy out into the yard for a wrestling-match, but some of the others +objected. + +"Oh, now, that won't do! If Daddy was a young man"---- + +"What do you mean, sir? I am young enough for you, sir. Just let me get +ahold o' you, sir, and I'll show you, you young rascal! you dem +jackanapes!" he ended, almost shrieking with rage, as he shook his fist +in the face of his grinning tormentors. + +The others held him back with much apparent alarm, and ordered the other +fellows away. + +"There, there, Daddy, I wouldn't mind him! I wouldn't dirty my hands on +him; he ain't worth it. Just come inside, and we'll have that +dancing-match now." + +Daddy reluctantly returned to the house, and, having surrendered his +violin to Hugh McTurg, was ready for the contest. As he stepped into the +middle of the room he was not altogether ludicrous. His rusty trousers +were bagged at the knee, and his red woolen stockings showed between the +tops of his moccasins and his pantaloon-legs; and his coat, utterly +characterless as to color and cut, added to the stoop in his shoulders, +and yet there was a rude sort of grace and a certain dignity about his +bearing which kept down laughter. They were to have a square dance of +the old-fashioned sort. + +"_Farrm_ on," he cried, and the fiddler struck out the first note of the +Virginia Reel. Daddy led out Rose, and the dance began. He straightened +up till his tall form towered above the rest of the boys like a +weather-beaten pine-tree, as he balanced and swung and led and called +off the changes with a voice full of imperious command. + +The fiddler took a malicious delight toward the last in quickening the +time of the good old dance, and that put the old man on his mettle. + +"Go it, ye young rascal!" he yelled. He danced like a boy and yelled +like a demon, catching a laggard here and there, and hurling them into +place like tops, while he kicked and stamped, wound in and out and waved +his hands in the air with a gesture which must have dated back to the +days of Washington. At last, flushed, breathless, but triumphant, he +danced a final break-down to the tune of "Leather Breeches," to show he +was unsubdued. + + + + +IV. + + +But these rare days passed away. As the country grew older it lost the +wholesome simplicity of pioneer days, and Daddy got a chance to play but +seldom. He no longer pleased the boys and girls--his music was too +monotonous and too simple. He felt this very deeply. Once in a while he +broke out to some of the old neighbors in protest against the changes. + +"The boys I used to trot on m' knee are gittin' too high-toned. They +wouldn't be found dead with old Deering, and then the preachers are +gittin' thick, and howlin' agin dancin', and the country's filling up +with Dutchmen, so't I'm left out." + +As a matter of fact, there were few homes now where Daddy could sit on +the table, in his ragged vest and rusty pantaloons, and play "Honest +John," while the boys thumped about the floor. There were few homes +where the old man was even a welcome visitor, and he felt this rejection +keenly. The women got tired of seeing him about, because of his +uncleanly habits of spitting and his tiresome stories. Many of the old +neighbors had died or moved away, and the young people had gone West or +to the cities. Men began to pity him rather than laugh at him, which +hurt him more than their ridicule. They began to favor him at threshing +or at the fall hog-killing. + +"Oh, you're getting old, Daddy; you'll have to give up this heavy work. +Of course, if you feel able to do it, why, all right! Like to have you +do it, but I guess we'll have to have a man to do the heavy lifting, I +s'pose." + +"I s'pose not, sir! I am jest as able to yank a hawg as ever, sir; yes, +sir, demmit--demmit! Do you think I've got one foot in the grave?" + +Nevertheless, Daddy often failed to come to time on appointed days, and +it was painful to hear him trying to explain, trying to make light of it +all. + +"M' caugh wouldn't let me sleep last night. A gol-dum leetle, nasty, +ticklin' caugh, too; but it kept me awake, fact was, an'--well, m' wife, +she said I hadn't better come. But don't you worry, sir; it won't happen +again, sir; no, sir." + +His hands got stiffer year by year, and his simple tunes became +practically a series of squeaks and squalls. There came a time when the +fiddle was laid away almost altogether, for his left hand got caught in +the cog-wheels of the horse-power, and all four of the fingers on that +hand were crushed. Thereafter he could only twang a little on the +strings. It was not long after this that he struck his foot with the ax +and lamed himself for life. + +As he lay groaning in bed, Mr. Jennings went in to see him and tried to +relieve the old man's feelings by telling him the number of times he had +practically cut his feet off, and said he knew it was a terrible hard +thing to put up with. + +"Gol dummit, it ain't the pain," the old sufferer yelled, "it's the dum +awkwardness. I've chopped all my life; I can let an ax in up to the +maker's name, and hew to a hair-line; yes, sir! It was jest them dum new +mittens my wife made; they was s' slippery," he ended, with a groan. + +As a matter of fact, the one accident hinged upon the other. It was the +failure of his left hand, with its useless fingers, to do its duty, that +brought the ax down upon his foot. The pain was not so much physical as +mental. To think that he, who could hew to a hair-line, right and left +hand, should cut his own foot like a ten-year-old boy--that scared him. +It brought age and decay close to him. For the first time in his life he +felt that he was fighting a losing battle. + +A man like this lives so much in the flesh that when his limbs begin to +fail him, everything else seems slipping away. He had gloried in his +strength. He had exulted in the thrill of his life-blood and in the +swell of his vast muscles; he had clung to the idea that he was strong +as ever, till this last blow came upon him, and then he began to think +and to tremble. + +When he was able to crawl about again, he was not the same man. He was +gloomy and morose, snapping and snarling at all that came near him, like +a wounded bear. He was alone a great deal of the time during the winter +following his hurt. Neighbors seldom went in, and for weeks he saw no +one but his hired hand, and the faithful, dumb little old woman, his +wife, who moved about without any apparent concern or sympathy for his +suffering. The hired hand, whenever he called upon the neighbors, or +whenever questions were asked, said that Daddy hung around over the +stove most of the time, paying no attention to any one or anything. "He +ain't dangerous 'tall," he said, meaning that Daddy was not dangerously +ill. + +Milton rode out from school one winter day with Bill, the hand, and was +so much impressed with his story of Daddy's condition that he rode home +with him. He found the old man sitting bent above the stove, wrapped in +a quilt, shivering and muttering to himself. He hardly looked up when +Milton spoke to him, and seemed scarcely to comprehend what he said. + +Milton was much alarmed at the terrible change, for the last time he had +seen him he had towered above him, laughingly threatening to "warm his +jacket," and now here he sat, a great hulk of flesh, his mind flickering +and flaring under every wind of suggestion, soon to go out altogether. + +In reply to questions he only muttered with a trace of his old spirit: +"I'm all right. Jest as good a man as I ever was, only I'm cold. I'll be +all right when spring comes, so 't I c'n git outdoors. Somethin' to warm +me up, yessir; I'm cold, that's all." + +The young fellow sat in awe before him, but the old wife and Bill moved +about the room, taking very little interest in what the old man said or +did. Bill at last took down the violin. "I'll wake him up," he said. +"This always fetches the old feller. Now watch 'im." + +"Oh, don't do that!" Milton said, in horror. But Bill drew the bow +across the strings in the same way that Daddy always did when tuning up. + +He lifted his head as Bill dashed into "Honest John," in spite of +Milton's protest. He trotted his feet after a little and drummed with +his hands on the arms of his chair, then smiled a little in a pitiful +way. Finally he reached out his right hand for the violin and took it +into his lap. He tried to hold the neck with his poor, old, mutilated +left hand and burst into tears. + +"Don't you do that again, Bill," Milton said. "It's better for him to +forget that. Now you take the best care of him you can to-night. I don't +think he's going to live long; I think you ought to go for the doctor +right off." + +"Oh, he's been like this for the last two weeks; he ain't sick, he's +jest old, that's all," replied Bill, brutally. + +And the old lady, moving about without passion and without speech, +seemed to confirm this; and yet Milton was unable to get the picture of +the old man out of his mind. He went home with a great lump in his +throat. + + * * * * * + +The next morning, while they were at breakfast, Bill burst wildly into +the room. + +"Come over there, all of you; we want you." + +They all looked up much scared. "What's the matter, Bill?" + +"Daddy's killed himself," said Bill, and turned to rush back, followed +by Mr. Jennings and Milton. + +While on the way across the field Bill told how it all happened. + +"He wouldn't go to bed, the old lady couldn't make him, and when I got +up this morning I didn't think nothin' about it. I s'posed, of course, +he'd gone to bed all right, but when I was going out to the barn I +stumbled across something in the snow, and I felt around, and there he +was. He got hold of my revolver someway. It was on the shelf by the +washstand, and I s'pose he went out there so 't we wouldn't hear him." +"I dassn't touch him," he said, with a shiver; "and the old woman, she +jest slumped down in a chair an set there--wouldn't do a thing--so I +come over to see you." + +Milton's heart swelled with remorse. He felt guilty because he had not +gone directly for the doctor. To think that the old sufferer had killed +himself was horrible and seemed impossible. + +The wind was blowing the snow, cold and dry, across the yard, but the +sun shone brilliantly upon the figure in the snow as they came up to it. +There Daddy lay. The snow was in his scant hair and in the hollow of his +vast, half-naked chest. A pistol was in his hand, but there was no mark +upon him, and Milton's heart leaped with quick relief. It was delirium, +not suicide. + +There was a sort of majesty in the figure half-buried in the snow. His +hands were clenched, and there was a frown of resolution on his face, as +if he had fancied Death coming and had gone defiantly forth to meet +him. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART IX. + +THE SOCIABLE AT DUDLEY'S: DANCING THE "WEEVILY WHEAT." + + "Good night, Lettie!" + "Goodnight, Ben!" + (The moon is sinking at the west.) + "Good night, my sweetheart." Once again + The parting kiss, while comrades wait + Impatient at the roadside gate, + And the red moon sinks beyond the west. + + +THE SOCIABLE AT DUDLEY'S. + +I. + + +John Jennings was not one of those men who go to a donation party with +fifty cents' worth of potatoes and eat and carry away two dollars' worth +of turkey and jelly-cake. When he drove his team around to the front +door for Mrs. Jennings, he had a sack of flour and a quarter of a fine +fat beef in his sleigh and a five-dollar bill in his pocket-book, a +contribution to Elder Wheat's support. + +Milton, his twenty-year-old son, was just driving out of the yard, +seated in a fine new cutter, drawn by a magnificent gray four-year-old +colt. He drew up as Mr. Jennings spoke. + +"Now be sure and don't never leave him a minute untied. And see that the +harness is all right. Do you hear, Milton?" + +"Yes, I hear!" answered the young fellow, rather impatiently, for he +thought himself old enough and big enough to look out for himself. + +"Don't race, will y', Milton?" was his mother's anxious question from +the depth of her shawls. + +"Not if I can help it," was his equivocal response as he chirruped to +Marc Antony. The grand brute made a rearing leap that brought a cry +from the mother and a laugh from the young driver, and swung into the +road at a flying pace. The night was clear and cold, the sleighing +excellent, and the boy's heart was full of exultation. + +It was a joy just to control such a horse as he drew rein over that +night. Large, with the long, lithe body of a tiger and the broad, clear +limbs of an elk, the gray colt strode away up the road, his hoofs +flinging a shower of snow over the dasher. The lines were like steel +rods; the sleigh literally swung by them; the traces hung slack inside +the thills. The bells clashed out a swift clamor; the runners seemed to +hiss over the snow as the duck-breasted cutter swung round the curves +and softly rose and fell along the undulating road. + +On either hand the snow stood billowed against the fences and amid the +wide fields of corn-stalks bleached in the wind. Over in the east, above +the line of timber skirting Cedar Creek, the vast, slightly gibbous moon +was rising, sending along the crusted snow a broad path of light. Other +sleighs could be heard through the still, cold air. Far away a party of +four or five were singing a chorus as they spun along the road. + +Something sweet and unnamable was stirring in the young fellow's brain +as he spun along in the marvelously still and radiant night. He wished +Eileen were with him. The vast and cloudless blue vault of sky +glittered with stars, which even the radiant moon could not dim. Not a +breath of air was stirring save that made by the swift, strong stride of +the horse. + +It was a night for youth and love and bells, and Milton felt this +consciously, and felt it by singing: + + "Stars of the summer night, + Hide in your azure deeps,-- + She sleeps--my lady sleeps." + +He was on his way to get Bettie Moss, one of his old sweethearts, who +had become more deeply concerned with the life of Edwin Blackler. He had +taken the matter with sunny philosophy even before meeting Eileen +Deering at the Seminary, and he was now on his way to bring about peace +between Ed and Bettie, who had lately quarreled. Incidentally he +expected to enjoy the sleigh-ride. + +"Stiddy, boy! Ho, boy! _Stiddy_, old fellow," he called soothingly to +Marc, as he neared the gate and whirled up to the door. A girl came to +the door as he drove up, her head wrapped in a white hood, a shawl on +her arms. She had been waiting for him. + +"Hello, Milt. That you?" + +"It's me. Been waiting?" + +"I should say I had. Begun t' think you'd gone back on me. Everybody +else's gone." + +"Well! Hop in here before you freeze; we'll not be the last ones there. +Yes, bring the shawl; you'll need it t' keep the snow off your face," +he called, authoritatively. + +"'Tain't snowin', is it?" she asked as she shut the door and came to the +sleigh's side. + +"Clear as a bell," he said as he helped her in. + +"Then where'll the snow come from?" + +"From Marc's heels." + +"Goodness sakes! you don't expect me t' ride after _that_ wild-headed +critter, do you?" + +His answer was a chirp which sent Marc half-way to the gate before +Bettie could catch her breath. The reins stiffened in his hands. Bettie +clung to him, shrieking at every turn in the road. + +"Milton Jennings, if you tip us over, I'll"---- + +Milton laughed, drew the colt down to a steady, swift stride, and Bettie +put her hands back under the robe. + +"I wonder who that is ahead?" he asked after a few minutes, which +brought them in sound of bells. + +"I guess it's Cy Hurd; it sounded like his bells when he went past. I +guess it's him and Bill an' Belle an' Cad Hines." + +"Expect to see Ed there?" asked Milton after a little pause. + +"I don't care whether I ever see him again or not," she snapped. + +"Oh, yes, you do!" he answered, feeling somehow her insincerity. + +"Well--I don't!" + +Milton didn't care to push the peace-making any further. However, he had +curiosity enough to ask, "What upset things 'tween you 'n Ed?" + +"Oh, nothing." + +"You mean none o' my business?" + +"I didn't say so." + +"No, you didn't need to," he laughed, and she joined in. + +"Yes, that's Cy Hurd. I know that laugh of his far's I c'n hear it," +said Bettie as they jingled along. "I wonder who's with him?" + +"We'll mighty soon see," said Milton, as he wound the lines around his +hands and braced his feet, giving a low whistle, which seemed to run +through the colt's blood like fire. His stride did not increase in rate, +but its reach grew majestic as he seemed to lengthen and lower. His +broad feet flung great disks of hard-packed snow over the dasher, and +under the clash of his bells the noise of the other team grew plainer. + +"Get out of the way," sang Milton, as he approached the other team. +There was challenge and exultation in his tone. + +"Hello! In a hurry?" shouted those in front, without increasing their +own pace. + +"Ya-as, something of a hurry," drawled Milton in a disguised voice. + +"Wa-al? Turn out an' go by if you are." + +"No, thankee, I'll just let m' nag nibble the hay out o' your box an' +take it easy." + +"Sure o' that?" + +"You bet high I am." Milton nudged Bettie, who was laughing with +delight. "It's Bill an' his bays. He thinks there isn't a team in the +country can keep up with him. Get out o' the way there!" he shouted +again. "I'm in a hurry." + +"Let 'em out! Let 'em out, Bill," they heard Cy say, and the bays sprang +forward along the level road, the bells ringing like mad, the snow +flying, the girls screaming at every lurch of the sleighs. But Marc's +head still shook haughtily above the end-gate; still the foam from his +lips fell upon the hay in the box ahead. + +"Git out o' this! Yip!" yelled Bill to his bays, but Marc merely made a +lunging leap and tugged at the lines as if asking for more liberty. +Milton gave him his head and laughed to see the great limbs rise and +fall like the pistons of an engine. They swept over the weeds like a +hawk skimming the stubble of a wheat field. + +"Get out o' the way or I'll run right over your back," yelled Milton +again. + +"Try it," was the reply. + +"Grab hold of me, Bettie, and lean to the right. When we turn this +corner I'm going to take the inside track and pass 'em." + +"You'll tip us over"---- + +"No, I won't! Do as I tell you." + +They were nearing a wide corner, where the road turned to the right and +bore due south through the woods. Milton caught sight of the turn, gave +a quick twist of the lines around his hands, leaned over the dasher and +spoke shrilly: + +"Git out o' this, Marc!" + +The splendid brute swerved to the right and made a leap that seemed to +lift the sleigh and all into the air. The snow flew in such stinging +showers Milton could see nothing. The sleigh was on one runner, heeling +like a yacht in a gale; the girl was clinging to his neck; he could hear +the bells of the other sleigh to his left; Marc was passing them; he +heard shouts and the swish of a whip. Another convulsive effort of the +gray, and then Milton found himself in the road again, in the moonlight, +where the apparently unwearied horse, with head out-thrust, nostril +wide-blown and body squared, was trotting like a veteran on the track. +The team was behind. + +"Stiddy, boy!" + +Milton soothed Marc down to a long, easy pace; then turned to Bettie, +who had uncovered her face again. + +"How d' y' like it?" + +"My sakes! I don't want any more of that. If I'd 'a' known you was goin' +t' drive like that I wouldn't 'a' come. You're worse'n Ed. I expected +every minute we'd be down in the ditch. But, oh! ain't he jest +splendint?" she added, in admiration of the horse. + +"Don't y' want to drive him?" + +"Oh, yes; let me try. I drive our teams." + +She took the lines, and at Milton's suggestion wound them around her +hands. She looked very pretty with the moon shining on her face, her +eyes big and black with excitement, and Milton immediately put his arm +around her and laid his head on her shoulder. + +"Milton Jennings, you don't"---- + +"Look out," he cried in mock alarm, "don't you drop those lines!" He +gave her a severe hug. + +"Milton Jennings, you let go me!" + +"That's what you said before." + +"Take these lines." + +"Can't do it," he laughed; "my hands are cold. Got to warm them, see?" He +pulled off his mitten and put his icy hand under her chin. The horse was +going at a tremendous pace again. + +"O-o-o-oh! If you don't take these lines I'll drop 'em, so there!" + +"Don't y' do it," he called warningly, but she did, and boxed his ears +soundly while he was getting Marc in hand again. Bettie's rage was +fleeting as the blown breath from Marc's nostrils, and when Milton +turned to her again all was as if his deportment had been grave and +cavalier. + +The stinging air made itself felt, and they drew close under their huge +buffalo robes as Marc strode steadily forward. The dark groves fell +behind, the clashing bells marked the rods and miles and kept time to +the songs they hummed. + + "Jingle, bells! Jingle, bells! + Jingle all the way. + Oh, what joy it is to ride + In a one-horse open sleigh." + +They overtook another laughing, singing load of young folks--a great +wood sleigh packed full with boys and girls, two and two--hooded girls, +and boys with caps drawn down over their ears. A babel of tongues arose +from the sweeping, creaking bob-sleigh, and rose into the silent air +like a mighty peal of laughter. + + + + +II. + + +A school-house set beneath the shelter of great oaks was the center of +motion and sound. On one side of it the teams stood shaking their bells +under their insufficient blankets, making a soft chorus of fitful trills +heard in the pauses of the merry shrieks of the boys playing "pom-pom +pullaway" across the road before the house, which radiated light and +laughter. A group of young men stood on the porch as Milton drove up. + +"Hello, Milt," said a familiar voice as he reined Marc close to the +step. + +"That you, Shep?" + +"Chuss, it's me," replied Shep. + +"How'd you know me so far off?" + +"Puh! Don't y' s'pose I know that horse an' those bells--Miss Moss, +allow me"----He helped her out with elaborate courtesy. "The supper and +the old folks are _here_, and the girls and boys and the fun is over to +Dudley's," he explained as he helped Bettie out. + +"I'll be back soon's I put my horse up," said Milton to Bettie. "You go +in and get good 'n' warm, and then we'll go over to the house." + +"I saved a place in the barn for you, Milt. I knew you'd never let Marc +stand out in the snow," said Shephard as he sprang in beside Milton. + +"I knew you would. What's the news? Is Ed here t'night?" + +"Yeh-up. On deck with S'fye Kinney. It'll make him _swear_ when he finds +out who Bettie come with." + +"Let him. Are the Yohe boys here?" + +"Yep. They're alwiss on hand, like a sore thumb. Bill's been drinking, +and is likely to give Ed trouble. He never'll give Bettie up without a +fight. Look out he don't jump onto _your_ neck." + +"No danger o' that," said Milton coolly. + +The Yohe boys were strangers in the neighborhood. They had come in with +the wave of harvest help from the South and had stayed on into the +winter, making few friends and a large number of enemies among the young +men of "the crick." Everybody admitted that they had metal in them, for +they instantly paid court to the prettiest girls in the neighborhood, +without regard to any prior claims. + +And the girls were attracted by these Missourians, their air of +mysterious wickedness and their muscular swagger, precisely as a flock +of barnyard fowl are interested in the strange bird thrust among them. + +But the Southerners had muscles like wild-cats, and their feats of broil +and battle commanded a certain respectful consideration. In fact, most +of the young men of the district were afraid of the red-faced, bold-eyed +strangers, one of the few exceptions being Milton, and another Shephard +Watson, his friend and room-mate at the Rock River Seminary. Neither of +these boys being at all athletic, it was rather curious that Bill and +Joe Yohe should treat them with so much consideration. + +Bill was standing before the huge cannon stove, talking with Bettie, +when Milton and Shephard returned to the school-house. The man's hard, +black eyes were filled with a baleful fire, and his wolfish teeth shone +through his long red mustache. It made Milton mutter under his breath +to see how innocently Bettie laughed with him. She never dreamed and +could not have comprehended the vileness of the man's whole life and +thought. No lizard reveled in the mud more hideously than he. His +conversation reeked with obscenity. His tongue dropped poison each +moment when among his own sex, and his eye blazed it forth when in the +presence of women. + +"Hello, Bill," said Milton, with easy indifference. "How goes it?" + +"Oh, 'bout so-so. You rather got ahead o' me t'night, didn't yeh?" + +"Well, rather. The man that gets ahead o' me has got t' drive a good +team, eh?" He looked at Bettie. + +"I'd like to try it," said Bill. + +"Well, let's go across the road," said Milton to Bettie, anxious to get +her out of the way of Bill. + +They had to run the gauntlet of the whooping boys outside, but Bettie +proved too fleet of foot for them all. + +When they entered the Dudley house opposite, her cheeks were hot with +color, but the roguish gleam in her eyes changed to a curiously haughty +and disdainful look as she passed Blackler, who stood desolately beside +the door, looking awkward and sullen. + +Milton was a great favorite, and he had no time to say anything more to +Bettie as peace-maker. He reached Ed as soon as possible. + +"Ed, what's up between you and Bettie?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I can't find out," Blackler replied, and he spurred +himself desperately into the fun. + + + + +III. + + +"It'll make Ed Blackler squirm t' see Betsey come in on Milt Jennings' +arm," said Bill to Shephard after Milton went out. + +"Wal, chuss. I denk it will." Shephard was looking round the room, where +the old people were noisily eating supper, and the steaming oysters and +the cold chicken's savory smell went to his heart. One of the motherly +managers of the feast bustled up to him. + +"Shephard, you c'n run over t' the house an' tell the young folks that +they can come over t' supper about eight o'clock; that'll be in a half +an hour. You understand?" + +"Oh, I'm so hungry! Can't y' give me a hunk o' chicken t' stay m' +stomach?" + +Mrs. Councill laughed. "I'll fish you out a drumstick," she said. And he +went away, gnawing upon it hungrily. Bill went with him, still belching +forth against Blackler. + +"Jim said he heard _he_ said he'd slap my face f'r a cent. I wish he +would. I'd lick the life out of 'im in a minnit." + +"Why don't you pitch into Milt? He's got her now. He's the one y'd orto +be dammin'." + +"Oh, he don't mean nothin' by it. He don't care for her. I saw him down +to town at the show with the girl he's after. He's jest makin' Ed mad." + +A game of "Copenhagen" was going on as they entered. Bettie was in the +midst of it, but Milton, in the corner, was looking on and talking with +a group of those who had outgrown such games. + +The ring of noisy, flushed and laughter-intoxicated young people filled +the room nearly to the wall, and round and round the ring flew Bettie, +pursued by Joe Yohe. + +"Go it, Joe!" yelled Bill. + +"You're good f'r 'im," yelled Shephard. + +Milton laughed and clapped his hands. "Hot foot, Bettie!" + +Like another Atalanta, the superb young girl sped, now dodging through +the ring, now doubling as her pursuer tried to catch her by turning +back. At last she made the third circuit, and, breathless and laughing, +took her place in the line. But Joe rushed upon her, determined to steal +a kiss anyhow. + +"H'yare! H'yare! None o' that." + +"That's no fair," cried the rest, and he was caught by a dozen hands. + +"She didn't go round three times," he said. + +"Yes, she did," cried a dozen voices. + +"You shut up," he retorted, brutally, looking at Ed Blackler, who had +not spoken at all. Ed glared back, but said nothing. Bettie ignored Ed, +and the game went on. + +"There's going to be trouble here to-night," said Milton to Shephard. + +Shephard, as the ring dissolved, stepped into the middle of the room and +flourished his chicken-leg as if it were a baton. After the burst of +laughter, his sonorous voice made itself heard. + +"Come to supper! Everybody take his girl if he can, and if he can't--get +the other feller's girl." + +Bill Yohe sprang toward Bettie, but Milton had touched her on the arm. + +"Not t'night, Bill," he grinned. + +Bill grinned in reply and made off toward another well-known belle, Ella +Pratt, who accepted his escort. Ed Blackler, with gloomy desperation, +took Maud Buttles, the most depressingly plain girl in the room, an +action that did not escape Bettie's eyes, and which softened her heart +toward him; but she did not let him see it. + +Supper was served on the desks, each couple seated in the drab-colored +wooden seats as if they were at school. A very comfortable arrangement +for those who occupied the back seats, but torture to the adults who +were obliged to cramp their legs inside the desk where the primer class +sat on school-days. + +Bettie saw with tenderness how devotedly poor Ed served Maud. He could +not have taken a better method of heaping coals of fire on her head. + +Ed was entirely unconscious of her softening, however, for he could not +look around from where he sat. He heard her laughing and believed she +was happy. He had not taken poor Maud for the purpose of showing his +penitence, for he had no such feeling in his heart; he was, on the +contrary, rather gloomy and reckless. He was not in a mood to show a +front of indifference. + +The oysters steamed; the heels of the boys' boots thumped in wild +delight; the women bustled about; the girls giggled, and the men roared +with laughter. Everybody ate as if he and she had never tasted +oyster-soup and chicken before, and the cakes and pies went the way of +the oyster-soup like corn before a troup of winter turkeys. + +Bill Yohe, by way of a joke, put some frosting down the back of Cy Hurd, +and, by way of delicate attention to Ella, alternately shoved her out of +the seat and pulled her back again, while Joe hurled a chicken-leg at +Cad Hines as she stood in the entry-way. Will Kinney told Sary Hines +for the fourth time how his team had run away, interrupted by his fear +that some kind of pie would get away untasted. + +"An' so I laid the lines down--H'yare! Gimme another handful of +crackers, Merry--an' I laid the lines down while I went t' fine--nary a +noyster I can hold any more. Mrs. Moss, I'm ready f'r pie now--an' so I +noticed ole Frank's eye kind o' roll, but thinksi, I c'n git holt o' the +lines if he--Yes'm, I alwiss eat mince; won't you try some, +Sary?--an'--an'--so, jest as I gut my ax--You bet! I'm goin' t' try a +piece of every kind if it busts my stummick. Gutta git my money's +worth." + +Milton was in his best mood and was very attractive in his mirth. His +fine teeth shone and his yellow curls shook under the stress of his +laughter. He wrestled with Bettie for the choice bits of cake, +delighting in the touch of her firm, sweet flesh; and, as for Bettie, +she was almost charmed to oblivion of Ed by the superior attractions of +Milton's town-bred gallantry. Ed looked singularly awkward and lonesome +as he sat sprawled out in one of the low seats, and curiously enough his +uncouthness and disconsolateness of attitude won her heart back again. + +Everybody, with the usual rustic freedom, had remarks to make upon the +situation. + +"Wal, Bettie, made a swop, hev yeh?" said Councill. + +"Hello, Milt; thought you had a girl down town." + +"Oh, I keep one at each end of the line," Milton replied, with his ready +laugh. + +"Wal, I swan t' gudgeon! I can't keep track o' you town fellers. You're +too many f'r me!" said Mrs. Councill. + +Carrie Hines came up behind Milton and Bettie and put her arms around +their necks, bringing their cheeks together. Bettie grew purple with +anger and embarrassment, but Milton, with his usual readiness, said, +"Thank you," and reached for the tittering malefactor's waist. Nobody +noticed it, for the room was full of such romping. + +The men were standing around the stove discussing political outlooks, +and the matrons were busy with the serving of the supper. Out of doors +the indefatigable boys were beginning again on "pom-pom pullaway." + +Supper over, the young folks all returned to the house across the way, +leaving the men of elderly blood to talk on the Grange and the +uselessness of the middlemen. Sport began again in the Dudley farm-house +by a dozen or so of the young people "forming on" for "Weevily Wheat." + +"Weevily Wheat" was a "donation dance." As it would have been wicked to +have a fiddle to play the music, singers were substituted with stirring +effect, and a song was sung, while the couples bowed and balanced and +swung in rhythm to it: + + "Come _hither_, my love, and _trip_ together + In the morning early. + I'll give to _you_ the parting hand, + Although I love you dearly. + But I _won't_ have none of y'r weevily wheat, + An' I _won't_ have _none_ of y'r barley, + But have some flour in a half an hour + To bake a cake for Charley. + + "Oh, Charley, _he_ is a fine young man; + Charley, he is a dandy. + Oh, Charley, _he's_ a fine young man, + F'r he buys the girls some candy. + Oh, I _won't_ have none o' y'r weevily wheat, + I won't have _none_ o' y'r barley, + But have some flour in a half an hour + To bake a cake for Charley. + + "Oh, Charley, he's," etc. + +Milton was soon in the thick of this most charming old-fashioned dance, +which probably dates back to dances on the green in England or Norway. +Bettie was a good dancer, and as she grew excited with the rhythm and +swing of the quaint, plaintive music her form grew supple at the waist +and her large limbs light. The pair moved up and back between the two +ranks of singers, then down the outside, and laughed in glee when they +accelerated the pace at the time when they were swinging down the +center. All faces were aglow and eyes shining. + +Bill's red face and bullet eyes were not beautiful, but the grace and +power of his body were unmistakable. He was excited by the music, the +alcohol he had been drinking, and by the presence of the girls, and +threw himself into the play with dangerous abandon. + +Under his ill-fitting coat his muscles rolled swift and silent. His tall +boots were brilliantly blue and starred with gold at the top, and his +pantaloons were tucked inside the tops to let their glory strike the +eye. His physical strength and grace and variety of "steps" called forth +many smiles and admiring exclamations from the girls, and caused the +young men to lose interest in "Weevily Wheat." + +When a new set was called for, Bill made a determined assault on Bettie +and secured her, for she did not have the firmness to refuse. But the +singers grew weary, and the set soon broke up. A game of forfeit was +substituted. This also dwindled down to a mere excuse for lovers to kiss +each other, and the whole company soon separated into little groups to +chatter and romp. Some few sat at the table in the parlor and played +"authors." + +Bettie was becoming annoyed by the attentions of Bill, and, to get rid +of him, went with Miss Lytle, Milton and two or three others into +another room and shut the door. This was not very unusual, but poor +Blackler seemed to feel it a direct affront to him and was embittered. +He was sitting by Ella Pratt when Bill Yohe swaggered up to him. + +"Say! Do you know where your girl is?" + +"No, an' I don't care." + +"Wal! It's _time_ y' cared. She's in the other room there. Milt Jennings +has cut you out." + +"You're a liar," cried the loyal lover, leaping to his feet. + +_Spat!_ Yohe's open palm resounded upon the pale face of Blackler, whose +eyes had a wild glare in them, and the next moment they were rolling on +the floor like a couple of dogs, the stronger and older man above, the +valiant lover below. The house resounded with sudden screams, and then +came the hurry of feet, then a hush, in the midst of which was heard the +unsubdued voice of Blackler as he rose to his feet. + +"You're a"---- + +Another dull stroke with the knotted fist, and the young fellow went to +the floor again, while Joe Yohe, like a wild beast roused at the sight +of blood, stood above the form of his brother (who had leaped upon the +fallen man), shouting with the hoarse, raucous note of a tiger: + +"Give 'im hell! I'll back yeh." + +Bettie pushed through the ring of men and women who were looking on in +delicious horror--pushed through quickly and yet with dignity. Her head +was thrown back, and the strange look on her face was thrilling. Facing +the angry men with a gesture of superb scorn and fearlessness, she +spoke, and in the deep hush her quiet words were strangely impressive: + +"Bill Yohe, what do you think you're doing?" + +For a moment the men were abashed, and, starting back, they allowed +Blackler, dazed, bleeding and half strangled, to rise to his feet. He +would have sprung against them both, for he had not heard or realized +who was speaking, but Bettie laid her hand on his arm, and the haughty +droop of her eyelids changed as she said in a tender voice: + +"Never mind, Ed; they ain't worth mindin'!" + +Her usual self came back quickly as she led him away. Friends began to +mutter now, and the swagger of the brothers threatened further trouble. +Their eyes rolled, their knotted hands swung about like bludgeons. +Threats, horrible snarls and oaths poured from their lips. But there +were heard at this critical moment rapid footsteps--a round, jovial +voice--and bursting through the door came the great form and golden head +of Lime Gilman. + +"Hold on here! What's all this?" he said, leaping with an ominously +good-natured smile into the open space before the two men, whose +restless pacing stopped at the sound of his voice. His sunny, laughing +blue eyes swept around him, taking in the situation at a glance. He +continued to smile, but his teeth came together. + +"Git out o' this, you hounds! Git!" he said, in the same jovial tone. +"You! _You_," he said to Bill, slapping him lightly on the breast with +the back of his lax fingers. Bill struck at him ferociously, but the +slope-shouldered giant sent it by with his left wrist, kicking the feet +of the striker from under him with a frightful swing of his right +foot--a trick which appalled Joe. + +"Clear the track there," ordered Lime. "It's against the law t' fight at +a donation; so out y' go." + +Bill crawled painfully to his feet. + +"I'll pay you for this yet." + +"_Any_ time but now. Git out, 'r I'll kick you out." Lime's voice +changed now. The silent crowd made way for them, and, seizing Joe by the +shoulder and pushing Bill before him, the giant passed out into the open +air. There he pushed Bill off the porch into the snow, and kicked his +brother over him with this parting word: + +"You infernal hyenies! Kickin's too good f'r you. If you ever want me, +look around an' you'll find me." + +Then, to the spectators who thronged after, he apologized: + +"I hate t' fight, and especially to kick a man; but they's times when a +man's _got_ t' do it. Now, jest go back and have a good time. Don't let +them hyenies spoil all y'r fun." + +That ended it. All knew Lime. Everybody had heard how he could lift one +end of the separator and toss a two-bushel sack filled with wheat over +the hind wheel of a wagon, and the terror of his kick was not unknown to +them. They all felt sure that the Yohes would not return, and all went +back into the house and attempted to go on with the games. But it was +impossible; such exciting events must be discussed, and the story was +told and retold by each one. + +When Milton returned to the parlor, he saw Bettie, tender, dignified and +grave, bending over Blackler, bathing his bruised face. Milton had never +admired her more than at that moment; she looked so womanly. She no +longer cared what people thought. + +The other girls, pale and tearful and a little hysterical, stood about, +close to their sweethearts. They enjoyed the excitement, however, and +the fight appealed to something organic in them. + +The donation party was at an end, that was clear, and the people began +to get ready to go home. Bettie started to thank Lyman for his help. + +"Don't say anything. I'd 'a' done it jest the same f'r anybody. It ain't +the thing to come to a donation and git up a row." + +Milton hardly knew whether to ask Bettie to go back with him or not, but +Blackler relieved him from embarrassment by rousing up and saying: + +"Oh, I'm all right now, Bettie. Hyere's yer girl, Milt. See the eye I've +got on me? She says she won't ride home with any such"---- + +"Ed, what in the world do you mean?" Bettie could hardly understand her +lover's sudden exultation; it was still a very serious matter to her, in +spite of the complete reconciliation which had come with the assault. +She felt in a degree guilty, and that feeling kept her still tearful and +subdued, but Ed leered and winked with his good eye in uncontrollable +delight. Milton turned to Bettie at last, and said: + +"Well! I'll get Marc around to the door in a few minutes. Get your +things on." + +Bettie and Ed stood close together by the door. She was saying: + +"You'll forgive me, won't you, Ed?" + +"Why, course I will, Bettie. I was as much to blame as you was. I no +business to git mad till I knew what I was gittin' mad _at_." + +They were very tender now. + +"I'll--I'll go home with you, if you want me to, 'stead of with Milt," +she quavered. + +"No, I've got to take S'fye home. It's the square thing." + +"All right, Ed, but come an' let me talk it all straight." + +"It's all straight now; let's let it all go, whaddy y' say?" + +"All right, Ed." + +There was a kiss that the rest pretended not to hear. And bidding them +all good-night, Bettie ran out to the fence, where Milton sat waiting. + +The moon was riding high in the clear, cold sky, but falling toward the +west, as they swung into the wood-road. Through the branches of the oaks +the stars, set in the deep-blue, fathomless night, peered cold and +bright. There was no wind save the rush of air caused by the motion of +the sleigh. Neither of the young people spoke for some time. They lay +back in the sleigh under the thick robes, listening to the chime of the +bells, the squeal of the runners, and the weirdly-sweet distant singing +of another sleigh-load of young people far ahead. + +Milton pulled Marc down to a slow trot, and, tightening his arm around +Bettie's shoulders in a very brotherly hug, said: + +"Well, I'm glad you and Ed have fixed things up again. You'd always have +been sorry." + +"It was all my fault anyway," replied the girl, with a little tremor in +her voice, "and it was all my fault to-night, too. I no business to 'a' +gone off an' left him that way." + +"Well, it's all over now anyway, and so I wouldn't worry any more about +it," said Milton, soothingly, and then they fell into silence again. + +The sagacious Marc Antony strode steadily away, and the two young lovers +went on with their dreaming. Bettie was silent mainly, and Milton was +trying to fancy that she was Eileen, and was remembering the long rides +they had had together. And the horse's hoofs beat a steady rhythm, the +moon fell to the west, and the bells kept cheery chime. The breath of +the horse rose into the air like steam. The house-dogs sent forth +warning howls as they went by. Once or twice they passed houses where +the windows were still lighted and where lanterns were flashing around +the barn, where the horses were being put in for the night. + +The lights were out at the home of Bettie when they drove up, for the +young people, however rapidly they might go to the sociable, always +returned much slower than the old folks. Milton leaped out and held up +his arms to help his companion out. As she shook the robes down, stood +up and reached out for his arms, he seized her round the waist, and, +holding her clear of the ground, kissed her in spite of her struggles. + +"Milton!" + +"The las' time, Bettie; the las' time," he said, in extenuation. With +this mournful word on his lips he leaped into the sleigh and was off +like the wind. But the listening girl heard his merry voice ringing out +on the still air. Suddenly something sweet and majestic swept upon the +girl. Something that made her look up into the glittering sky with vast +yearning. In the awful hush of the sky and the plain she heard the beat +of her own blood in her ears. She longed for song to express the +swelling of her throat and the wistful ache of her heart. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +AN AFTERWORD: OF WINDS, SNOWS AND THE STARS.... + + + O witchery of the winter night + (With broad moon shouldering to the west)! + + In city streets the west wind sweeps + Before my feet in rustling flight; + The midnight snows in untracked heaps + Lie cold and desolate and white. + I stand and wait with upturned eyes, + Awed with the splendor of the skies + And star-trained progress of the moon. + + The city walls dissolve like smoke + Beneath the magic of the moon, + And age falls from me like a cloak; + I hear sweet girlish voices ring + Clear as some softly stricken string-- + (The moon is sailing to the west.) + The sleigh-bells clash in homeward flight; + With frost each horse's breast is white-- + (The big moon sinking to the west.) + + * * * * * + + "Good night, Lettie!" + "Good night, Ben!" + (The moon is sinking at the west.) + "Good night, my sweetheart," Once again + The parting kiss while comrades wait + Impatient at the roadside gate, + And the red moon sinks beyond the west. + + + + +Transcriber's Notes + + +Welcome to Project Gutenberg's edition of the first version of Prairie +Folks by Hamlin Garland. We have used the 1893 edition of the book +published by F. J. Schulte and Company for this transcription. This book +is available through the Internet Archive courtesy of the New York +Public Library. + +In 1899, Garland published a revised edition of Prairie Folks with many +changes: + + • The short stories Saturday Night on the Farm and Uncle Ethan's +Speculation were omitted from the 1899 edition. + • The short stories Aidgewise Feelings, Black Ephram, and The +Wapseypinnicon Tiger were added to the 1899 edition. + • The order of Elder Pill and Bacon's Man were switched; some parts of +Elder Pill were modified to make the story appear as if it was written +after Bacon's Man. These alterations involved changed dialogue and the +revision of scenes involving Mrs. Bacon and Merry Etty. + • A page or more of verse was added between each story. + • Some tinkering was done with the title and text of the rest of the short stories. + +Notes: + +The following alternate spellings of words or phrases were found in the +text: + • every which-way (page 51); + every-which-way (page 91). + • checkerboard (page 180); + checker-board (pages 169, 172) + +On page 132, change faught to fought. + +On page 156, transcribe forehead without the hyphen (see pages 16, 42, and 102). + +On page 188, transcribe new-comer with the hyphen (see page 21). + +On page 191, transcribe doorway without the hyphen (see pages 14 and +143). + +On page 235, transcribe pom-pom pullaway without the hyphen in pullaway +(see page 244). + +On page 237, transcribe barnyard without the hyphen (see pages 36 and +91). + +On page 246, place left quote before my hands are cold in the sentence: +"Can't do it," he laughed; "my hands are cold. Got to warm them, see?" + +On page 248, remove quote after Gilman in the clause "through the door +came the great form and golden head of Lime Gilman." + +Several words hyphenated and split between two lines for spacing could +be spelled with the hyphen or not: night-gown (page 27), meal-time (page +80), and jacka-napes (page 216). + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prairie Folks, by Hamlin Garland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRAIRIE FOLKS *** + +***** This file should be named 20697.txt or 20697.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/9/20697/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org +</p> + +<p> + Title: Prairie Folks<br /> + Author: Hamlin Garland<br /> + Release Date: February 27, 2007 [EBook #20697]<br /> + Last Update Date: September 11, 2017.<br /> + Language: English<br /> + Character set encoding: UTF-8 +</p> + +<p> + Produced by Roger Frank, Robert Homa, and the Online Distributed + Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net +</p> +<br /> +<p class="start"> +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRAIRIE FOLKS *** +</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_001" id="Page_001">1</a></span></p> +<h1>Prairie Folks.</h1> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div id="titlepage"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_003" id="Page_003">3</a></span></p> +<p style="font-size: 175%; margin-top:30px; margin-bottom:20px">PRAIRIE FOLKS</p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus-leaf.png" width="38" height="28" alt="emblem" /></div> +<p class="author"> +<span style="font-size: 140%"><span class="smcap">By</span> HAMLIN GARLAND,</span> +AUTHOR OF "MAIN-TRAVELED ROADS," "A MEMBER OF THE THIRD HOUSE," "A SPOIL OF OFFICE," ETC., ETC.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus-emb.png" width="125" height="123" alt="emblem" /></div> +<p style="font-size: 100%; margin-top:50px">F. J. SCHULTE & COMPANY</p> +<p style="font-size: 80%;">PUBLISHERS <span class="pub-city">CHICAGO.</span> M DCCC XCIII</p> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_004" id="Page_004">4</a></span> +<br /><br /><br /></p> +<p class="center" style="font-size:smaller">Copyright, 1892,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> HAMLIN GARLAND.<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_005" id="Page_005">5</a></span> +<br /><br /><br /></p> +<h2>Prairie Folks.</h2> + +<div class="poempage"> +<hr /> +<p class="section-title">Pioneers.</p> +<p>They rise to mastery of wind and snow;</p> +<p class="indent">They go like soldiers grimly into strife,</p> +<p>To colonize the plain; they plow and sow,</p> +<p class="indent">And fertilize the sod with their own life</p> +<p>As did the Indian and the buffalo.</p> + +<p class="section-title">Settlers.</p> + +<p> +Above them soars a dazzling sky,</p> +<p class="indent">In winter blue and clear as steel,</p> +<p>In summer like an Arctic sea</p> +<p class="indent">Wherein vast icebergs drift and reel</p> +<p>And melt like sudden sorcery.</p> +<br /> +<p>Beneath them plains stretch far and fair,</p> +<p class="indent">Rich with sunlight and with rain;</p> +<p>Vast harvests ripen with their care</p> +<p class="indent">And fill with overplus of grain</p> +<p>Their square, great bins.</p> +<br /> +<p>Yet still they strive! I see them rise</p> +<p class="indent">At dawn-light, going forth to toil:</p> +<p>The same salt sweat has filled my eyes,</p> +<p class="indent">My feet have trod the self-same soil</p> +<p>Behind the snarling plow.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_007" id="Page_007">7</a></span> +<br /><br /><br /></p> +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from the text]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from the text]" /> +</div> +<div class="smcap"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:70%;" /> +<col style="width:30%;" /> +<tr> + <td align="left">Uncle Ethan's Speculation</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="left">The Test of Elder Pill</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="left">William Bacon's Hired Man</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="left">Sim Burns's Wife</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="left">Saturday Night on the Farm</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="left">Village Cronies</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="left">Drifting Crane</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="left">Old Daddy Deering</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="left">The Sociable at Dudley's</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div class="chapter-intro"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_009" id="Page_009">9</a></span> +<br /><br /><br /></p> +<a name="Part_I." id="Part_I."></a> +<h2><a href="#Contents">Part I.</a></h2> +<p class="chapter-title" style="font-size:160%">UNCLE ETHAN'S SPECULATION +<span style="font-size:90%">IN PATENT MEDICINES.</span></p> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> +<table summary="poem"><tr><td> +<p><i>A certain guileless trust in human kind<br /> +Too often leads them into nets<br /> +Spread by some wandering trader,<br /> +Smooth, and deft, and sure</i>.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> +<h2>UNCLE ETHAN RIPLEY.</h2> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> +<p><span class="first-word">Uncle Ethan</span> +had a theory that a man's character could be told by the way +he sat in a wagon seat.</p> + +<p>"A mean man sets right plumb in the <em>middle</em> o' the seat, as much as to +say, 'Walk, gol darn yeh, who cares?' But a man that sets in one corner +o' the seat, much as to say, 'Jump in—cheaper t' ride 'n to walk,' you +can jest tie to."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ripley was prejudiced in favor of the stranger, therefore, before +he came opposite the potato patch, where the old man was "bugging his +vines." The stranger drove a jaded-looking pair of calico ponies, +hitched to a clattering democrat wagon, and he sat on the extreme end of +the seat, with the lines in his right hand, while his left rested on his +thigh, with his little finger gracefully crooked and his elbows akimbo. +He wore a blue shirt, with gay-colored armlets just above the elbows, +and his vest hung unbuttoned down his lank ribs. It was plain he was +well pleased with himself.</p> + +<p>As he pulled up and threw one leg over the end +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> +of the seat, Uncle Ethan +observed that the left spring was much more worn than the other, which +proved that it was not accidental, but that it was the driver's habit to +sit on that end of the seat.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon," said the stranger, pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, sir."</p> + +<p>"Bugs purty plenty?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty enough, I gol! I don't see where they all come fum."</p> + +<p>"Early Rose?" inquired the man, as if referring to the bugs.</p> + +<p>"No; Peachblows an' Carter Reds. My Early Rose is over near the house. +The old woman wants 'em near. See the darned things!" he pursued, +rapping savagely on the edge of the pan to rattle the bugs back.</p> + +<p>"How do yeh kill 'em—scald 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Mostly. Sometimes I"——</p> + +<p>"Good piece of oats," yawned the stranger, listlessly.</p> + +<p>"That's barley."</p> + +<p>"So 'tis. Didn't notice."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan was wondering what the man was. He had some pots of black +paint in the wagon, and two or three square boxes.</p> + +<p>"What do yeh think o' Cleveland's chances for a second term?" continued +the man, as if they had been talking politics all the while.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span> +Uncle Ripley scratched his head. "Waal—I dunno—bein' a Republican—I +think "——</p> + +<p>"That's so—it's a purty scaly outlook. I don't believe in second terms +myself," the man hastened to say.</p> + +<p>"Is that your new barn acrost there?" pointing with his whip.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, it is," replied the old man, proudly. After years of planning +and hard work he had managed to erect a little wooden barn, costing +possibly three hundred dollars. It was plain to be seen he took a +childish pride in the fact of its newness.</p> + +<p>The stranger mused. "A lovely place for a sign," he said, as his eyes +wandered across its shining yellow broadside.</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan stared, unmindful of the bugs crawling over the edge of his +pan. His interest in the pots of paint deepened.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't think o' lettin' me paint a sign on that barn?" the stranger +continued, putting his locked hands around one knee, and gazing away +across the pig-pen at the building.</p> + +<p>"What kind of a sign? Gol darn your skins!" Uncle Ethan pounded the pan +with his paddle and scraped two or three crawling abominations off his +leathery wrist.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful day, and the man in the wagon seemed unusually loath +to attend to business. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> +tired ponies slept in the shade of the +lombardies. The plain was draped in a warm mist, and shadowed by vast, +vaguely defined masses of clouds—a lazy June day.</p> + +<p>"Dodd's Family Bitters," said the man, waking out of his abstraction +with a start, and resuming his working manner. "The best bitter in the +market." He alluded to it in the singular. "Like to look at it? No +trouble to show goods, as the fellah says," he went on hastily, seeing +Uncle Ethan's hesitation.</p> + +<p>He produced a large bottle of triangular shape, like a bottle for +pickled onions. It had a red seal on top, and a strenuous caution in red +letters on the neck, "None genuine unless 'Dodd's Family Bitters' is +blown in the bottom."</p> + +<p>"Here's what it cures," pursued the agent, pointing at the side, where, +in an inverted pyramid, the names of several hundred diseases were +arranged, running from "gout" to "pulmonary complaints," etc.</p> + +<p>"I gol! she cuts a wide swath, don't she?" exclaimed Uncle Ethan, +profoundly impressed with the list.</p> + +<p>"They ain't no better bitter in the world," said the agent, with a +conclusive inflection.</p> + +<p>"What's its speshy-<em>al</em>ity? Most of 'em have some +speshy-<em>al</em>ity." +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span> +"Well—summer complaints—an'—an'—spring an' fall +troubles—tones ye up, sort of."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan's forgotten pan was empty of his gathered bugs. He was +deeply interested in this man. There was something he liked about him.</p> + +<p>"What does it sell fur?" he asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Same price as them cheap medicines—dollar a bottle—big +bottles, too. Want one?"</p> + +<p>"Wal, mother ain't to home, an' I don't know as she'd like this kind. We +ain't been sick f'r years. Still, they's no tellin'," he added, seeing +the answer to his objection in the agent's eyes. "Times is purty close, +too, with us, y' see; we've jest built that stable "——</p> + +<p>"Say, I'll tell yeh what I'll do," said the stranger, waking up and +speaking in a warmly generous tone. "I'll give you ten bottles of the +bitter if you'll let me paint a sign on that barn. It won't hurt the +barn a bit, and if you want 'o, you can paint it out a year from date. +Come, what d' ye say?"</p> + +<p>"I guess I hadn't better."</p> + +<p>The agent thought that Uncle Ethan was after more pay, but in reality he +was thinking of what his little old wife would say.</p> + +<p>"It simply puts a family bitter in your home that may save you fifty +dollars this comin' fall. You can't tell."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> +Just what the man said after that Uncle Ethan didn't follow. His voice +had a confidential purring sound as he stretched across the wagon-seat +and talked on, eyes half shut. He straightened up at last, and concluded +in the tone of one who has carried his point:</p> + +<p>"So! If you didn't want to use the whole twenty-five bottles y'rself, +why! sell it to your neighbors. You can get twenty dollars out of it +easy, and still have five bottles of the best family bitter that ever +went into a bottle."</p> + +<p>It was the thought of this opportunity to get a buffalo-skin coat that +consoled Uncle Ethan as he saw the hideous black letters appearing under +the agent's lazy brush.</p> + +<p>It was the hot side of the barn, and painting was no light work. The +agent was forced to mop his forehead with his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Say, hain't got a cooky or anything, and a cup o' milk handy?" he said +at the end of the first enormous word, which ran the whole length of the +barn.</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan got him the milk and cooky, which he ate with an +exaggeratedly dainty action of his fingers, seated meanwhile on the +staging which Uncle Ripley had helped him to build. This lunch infused +new energy into him, and in a short time +"<span class="smcap">Dodd's Family Bitters</span>, Best +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span> +in the Market," disfigured the sweet-smelling pine boards.</p> + +<hr class="break" /> + +<p>Ethan was eating his self-obtained supper of bread and milk when his +wife came home.</p> + +<p>"Who's been a-paintin' on that barn?" she demanded, her bead-like eyes +flashing, her withered little face set in an ominous frown. "Ethan +Ripley, what you been doin'?"</p> + +<p>"Nawthin'," he replied, feebly.</p> + +<p>"Who painted that sign on there?"</p> + +<p>"A man come along an' he wanted to paint that on there, and I let 'im; +and it's my barn, anyway. I guess I can do what I'm a min' to with it," +he ended, defiantly; but his eyes wavered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ripley ignored the defiance. "What under the sun p'sessed you to do +such a thing as that, Ethan Ripley? I declare I don't see! You git +fooler an' fooler ev'ry day you live, I <em>do</em> believe."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan attempted a defense.</p> + +<p>"Well, he paid me twenty-five dollars f'r it, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Did 'e?" She was visibly affected by this news.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, it amounts to that; he give me twenty-five bottles"——</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ripley sank back in her chair. "Well, I swan to Bungay! Ethan +Ripley—wal, you beat all I <em>ever</em> see!" she added in despair of +expression.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> +"I thought you had <em>some</em> sense left, but you hain't, not +one blessed scimpton. Where <em>is</em> the stuff?"</p> + +<p>"Down cellar, an' you needn't take on no airs, ol' woman. I've known you +to buy things you didn't need time an' time 'n' agin, tins and things, +an' I guess you wish you had back that ten dollars you paid for that +illustrated Bible."</p> + +<p>"Go 'long an' bring that stuff up here. I never see such a man in my +life. It's a wonder he didn't do it f'r two bottles." She glared out at +the sign, which faced directly upon the kitchen window.</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan tugged the two cases up and set them down on the floor of +the kitchen. Mrs. Ripley opened a bottle and smelled of it like a +cautious cat.</p> + +<p>"Ugh! Merciful sakes, what stuff! It ain't fit f'r a hog to take. What'd +you think you was goin' to do with it?" she asked in poignant disgust.</p> + +<p>"I expected to take it—if I was sick. Whaddy ye s'pose?" He defiantly +stood his ground, towering above her like a leaning tower.</p> + +<p>"The hull cartload of it?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm goin' to sell part of it an' git me an overcoat"——</p> + +<p>"Sell it!" she shouted. "Nobuddy'll buy that sick'nin' stuff but an old +numbskull like you. Take that slop out o' the house this minute! Take +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> +it right down to the sink-hole an' smash every bottle on the stones."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan and the cases of medicine disappeared, and the old woman +addressed her concluding remarks to little Tewksbury, her grandson, who +stood timidly on one leg in the doorway, like an intruding pullet.</p> + +<p>"Everything around this place 'ud go to rack an' ruin if I didn't keep a +watch on that soft-pated old dummy. I thought that lightenin'-rod man +had give him a lesson he'd remember, but no, he must go an' make a +reg'lar"——</p> + +<p>She subsided in a tumult of banging pans, which helped her out in the +matter of expression and reduced her to a grim sort of quiet. Uncle +Ethan went about the house like a convict on shipboard. Once she caught +him looking out of the window.</p> + +<p>"I should <em>think</em> you'd feel proud o' that."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan had never been sick a day in his life. He was bent and +bruised with never-ending toil, but he had nothing especial the matter +with him.</p> + +<p>He did not smash the medicine, as Mrs. Ripley commanded, because he had +determined to sell it. The next Sunday morning, after his chores were +done, he put on his best coat of faded diagonal, and was brushing his +hair into a ridge across the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> +center of his high, narrow head, when Mrs. +Ripley came in from feeding the calves.</p> + +<p>"Where you goin' now?"</p> + +<p>"None o' your business," he replied. "It's darn funny if I can't stir +without you wantin' to know all about it. Where's Tewky?"</p> + +<p>"Feedin' the chickens. You ain't goin' to take him off this mornin' now! +I don't care where you go."</p> + +<p>"Who's a-goin' to take him off? I ain't said nothin' about takin' him +off."</p> + +<p>"Wall, take y'rself off, an' if y' ain't here f'r dinner, I ain't goin' +to get no supper."</p> + +<p>Ripley took a water-pail and put four bottles of "the bitter" into it, +and trudged away up the road with it in a pleasant glow of hope. All +nature seemed to declare the day a time of rest, and invited men to +disassociate ideas of toil from the rustling green wheat, shining grass, +and tossing blooms. Something of the sweetness and buoyancy of all +nature permeated the old man's work-calloused body, and he whistled +little snatches of the dance tunes he played on his fiddle.</p> + +<p>But he found neighbor Johnson to be supplied with another variety of +bitter, which was all he needed for the present. He qualified his +refusal to buy with a cordial invitation to go out and see his shotes, +in which he took infinite pride. But +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> +Uncle Ripley said: "I guess I'll +haf t' be goin'; I want 'o git up to Jennings' before dinner."</p> + +<p>He couldn't help feeling a little depressed when he found Jennings away. +The next house along the pleasant lane was inhabited by a "new-comer." +He was sitting on the horse-trough, holding a horse's halter, while his +hired man dashed cold water upon the galled spot on the animal's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>After some preliminary talk Ripley presented his medicine.</p> + +<p>"Hell, no! What do I want of such stuff? When they's anything the matter +with me, I take a lunkin' ol' swig of popple-bark and bourbon. That +fixes me."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan moved off up the lane. He hardly felt like whistling now. At +the next house he set his pail down in the weeds beside the fence, and +went in without it. Doudney came to the door in his bare feet, buttoning +his suspenders over a clean boiled shirt. He was dressing to go out.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Ripley. I was just goin' down your way. Jest wait a minute an' +I'll be out."</p> + +<p>When he came out fully dressed, Uncle Ethan grappled him.</p> +<p>"Say, what d' +you think o' paytent med"——</p> + +<p>"Some of 'em are boss. But y' want 'o know what y're gitt'n'."</p> + +<p>"What d' ye think o' Dodd's"——</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> +"Best in the market."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan straightened up and his face lighted. Doudney went on:</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; best bitter that ever went into a bottle. I know, I've tried +it. I don't go much on patent medicines, but when I get a good"——</p> + +<p>"Don't want 'o buy a bottle?"</p> + +<p>Doudney turned and faced him.</p> + +<p>"Buy! No. I've got nineteen bottles I want 'o <em>sell</em>." Ripley glanced up +at Doudney's new granary and there read "Dodd's Family Bitters." He was +stricken dumb. Doudney saw it all and roared.</p> + +<p>"Wal, that's a good one! We two tryin' to sell each other bitters. +Ho—ho—ho—har, whoop! wal, this is rich! How many bottles did you +git?"</p> + +<p>"None o' your business," said Uncle Ethan, as he turned and made off, +while Doudney screamed with merriment.</p> + +<p>On his way home Uncle Ethan grew ashamed of his burden. Doudney had +canvassed the whole neighborhood, and he practically gave up the +struggle. Everybody he met seemed determined to find out what he had +been doing, and at last he began lying about it.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Uncle Ripley, what y' got there in that pail?"</p> + +<p>"Goose eggs f'r settin'."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span> +He disposed of one bottle to old Gus Peterson. Gus never paid his debts, +and he would only promise fifty cents "on tick" for the bottle, and yet +so desperate was Ripley that this <em>quasi</em> sale cheered him up not a +little.</p> + +<p>As he came down the road, tired, dusty and hungry, he climbed over the +fence in order to avoid seeing that sign on the barn, and slunk into the +house without looking back.</p> + +<p>He couldn't have felt meaner about it if he had allowed a Democratic +poster to be pasted there.</p> + +<p>The evening passed in grim silence, and in sleep he saw that sign +wriggling across the side of the barn like boa-constrictors hung on +rails. He tried to paint them out, but every time he tried it the man +seemed to come back with a sheriff, and savagely warned him to let it +stay till the year was up. In some mysterious way the agent seemed to +know every time he brought out the paint-pot, and he was no longer the +pleasant-voiced individual who drove the calico ponies.</p> + +<p>As he stepped out into the yard next morning, that abominable, +sickening, scrawling advertisement was the first thing that claimed his +glance—it blotted out the beauty of the morning.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ripley came to the window, buttoning her dress at the throat, a +whisp of her hair sticking assertively from the little knob at the back +of her head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> +"Lovely, ain't it! An' <em>I</em>'ve got to see it all day long. I can't look +out the winder but that thing's right in my face." It seemed to make her +savage. She hadn't been in such a temper since her visit to New York. "I +hope you feel satisfied with it."</p> + +<p>Ripley walked off to the barn. His pride in its clean, sweet newness was +gone. He slyly tried the paint to see if it couldn't be scraped off, +but it was dried in thoroughly. Whereas before he had taken delight in +having his neighbors turn and look at the building, now he kept out of +sight whenever he saw a team coming. He hoed corn away in the back of +the field, when he should have been bugging potatoes by the roadside.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ripley was in a frightful mood about it, but she held herself in +check for several days. At last she burst forth:</p> + +<p>"Ethan Ripley, I can't stand that thing any longer, and I ain't goin' +to, that's all! You've got to go and paint that thing out, or I will. +I'm just about crazy with it."</p> + +<p>"But, mother, I promised "——</p> + +<p>"I don't care <em>what</em> you promised, it's got to be painted out. I've got +the nightmare now, seein' it. I'm goin' to send f'r a pail o' red paint, +and I'm goin' to paint that out if it takes the last breath I've got to +do it."</p> + +<p>"I'll tend to it, mother, if you won't hurry me"——</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> +"I can't stand it another day. It makes me boil every time I look out +the winder."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan hitched up his team and drove gloomily off to town, where he +tried to find the agent. He lived in some other part of the county, +however, and so the old man gave up and bought a pot of red paint, not +daring to go back to his desperate wife without it.</p> + +<p>"Goin' to paint y'r new barn?" inquired the merchant, with friendly +interest.</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan turned with guilty sharpness; but the merchant's face was +grave and kindly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I thought I'd touch it up a little—don't cost much."</p> + +<p>"It pays—always," the merchant said emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Will it—stick jest as well put on evenings?" inquired Uncle Ethan, +hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes—won't make any difference. Why? Ain't goin' to +have"——</p> + +<p>"Waal,—I kind o' thought I'd do it odd times night an' +mornin'—kind o' odd times"——</p> + +<p>He seemed oddly confused about it, and the merchant looked after him +anxiously as he drove away.</p> + +<p>After supper that night he went out to the barn, and Mrs. Ripley heard +him sawing and hammering. Then the noise ceased, and he came in and sat +down in his usual place.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> +"What y' ben makin'?" she inquired. Tewksbury had gone to bed. She sat +darning a stocking.</p> + +<p>"I jest thought I'd git the stagin' ready f'r paintin'," he said, +evasively.</p> + +<p>"Waal! I'll be glad when it's covered up." When she got ready for bed, +he was still seated in his chair, and after she had dozed off two or +three times she began to wonder why he didn't come. When the clock +struck ten, and she realized that he had not stirred, she began to get +impatient. "Come, are y' goin' to sit there all night?" There was no +reply. She rose up in bed and looked about the room. The broad moon +flooded it with light, so that she could see he was not asleep in his +chair, as she had supposed. There was something ominous in his +disappearance.</p> + +<p>"Ethan! Ethan Ripley, where are yeh?" There was no reply to her sharp +call. She rose and distractedly looked about among the furniture, as if +he might somehow be a cat and be hiding in a corner somewhere. Then she +went upstairs where the boy slept, her hard little heels making a +curious <i>tunking</i> noise on the bare boards. The moon fell across the +sleeping boy like a robe of silver. He was alone.</p> + +<p>She began to be alarmed. Her eyes widened in fear. All sorts of vague +horrors sprang unbidden into her brain. She still had the mist of sleep +in her brain.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> +She hurried down the stairs and out into the fragrant night. The +katydids were singing in infinite peace under the solemn splendor of the +moon. The cattle sniffed and sighed, jangling their bells now and then, +and the chickens in the coops stirred uneasily as if overheated. The old +woman stood there in her bare feet and long nightgown, horror-stricken. +The ghastly story of a man who had hung himself in his barn because his +wife deserted him came into her mind and stayed there with frightful +persistency. Her throat filled chokingly.</p> + +<p>She felt a wild rush of loneliness. She had a sudden realization of how +dear that gaunt old figure was, with its grizzled face and ready smile. +Her breath came quick and quicker, and she was at the point of bursting +into a wild cry to Tewksbury, when she heard a strange noise. It came +from the barn, a creaking noise. She looked that way, and saw in the +shadowed side a deeper shadow moving to and fro. A revulsion to +astonishment and anger took place in her.</p> + +<p>"Land o' Bungay! If he ain't paintin' that barn, like a perfect old +idiot, in the night."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ethan, working desperately, did not hear her feet pattering down +the path, and was startled by her shrill voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, Ethan Ripley, whaddy y' think you're doin' now?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> +He made two or three slapping passes with the brush, and then snapped, +"I'm a-paintin' this barn—whaddy ye s'pose? If ye had eyes y' wouldn't +ask."</p> + +<p>"Well, you come right straight to bed. What d'you mean by actin' so?"</p> + +<p>"You go back into the house an' let me be. I know what I'm a-doin'. +You've pestered me about this sign jest about enough." He dabbed his +brush to and fro as he spoke. His gaunt figure towered above her in +shadow. His slapping brush had a vicious sound.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke for some time. At length she said more gently, "Ain't you +comin' in?"</p> + +<p>"No—not till I get a-ready. You go 'long an' tend to y'r own business. +Don't stan' there an' ketch cold."</p> + +<p>She moved off slowly toward the house. His voice subdued her. Working +alone out there had rendered him savage; he was not to be pushed any +farther. She knew by the tone of his voice that he must not be +assaulted. She slipped on her shoes and a shawl, and came back where he +was working, and took a seat on a saw-horse.</p> + +<p>"I'm a-goin' to set right here till you come in, Ethan Ripley," she +said, in a firm voice, but gentler than usual.</p> + +<p>"Waal, you'll set a good while," was his ungracious reply. But each felt +a furtive tenderness for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> +the other. He worked on in silence. The boards +creaked heavily as he walked to and fro, and the slapping sound of the +paint-brush sounded loud in the sweet harmony of the night. The majestic +moon swung slowly round the corner of the barn, and fell upon the old +man's grizzled head and bent shoulders. The horses inside could be heard +stamping the mosquitoes away, and chewing their hay in pleasant chorus.</p> + +<p>The little figure seated on the saw-horse drew the shawl closer about +her thin shoulders. Her eyes were in shadow, and her hands were wrapped +in her shawl. At last she spoke in a curious tone.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know as you <em>was</em> so very much to blame. +I <em>didn't</em> want that Bible myself—I held out I did, +but I didn't."</p> + +<p>Ethan worked on until the full meaning of this unprecedented surrender +penetrated his head, and then he threw down his brush.</p> + +<p>"Waal, I guess I'll let 'er go at that. I've covered up the most of it, +anyhow. Guess we'd better go in."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div class="chapter-intro"> +<p><a name="PART_II." id="PART_II."></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span></p> +<h2><a href="#Contents">PART II.</a></h2> +<p class="chapter-title" style="font-size:160%">THE TEST OF ELDER PILL: +<span style="font-size:90%">THE COUNTRY PREACHER.</span></p> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> +<table summary="poem"><tr><td> +<p><i>The lonely center of their social life,<br /> +The low, square school-house, stands<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the wind-swept plain,</span><br /> +Hacked by thoughtless boyish hands,<br /> +And gray, and worn, and warped with strife<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of sleet and autumn rain.</span></i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> +<h2><a name="ELDER_PILL_PREACHER" id="ELDER_PILL_PREACHER"></a>ELDER PILL, PREACHER.</h2> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from the text]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from the text]" /> +</div> + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">Old man Bacon</span> +was pinching forked barbs on a wire fence one rainy day in +July, when his neighbor Jennings came along the road on his way to town. +Jennings never went to town except when it rained too hard to work +outdoors, his neighbors said; and of old man Bacon it was said he +<em>never</em> rested <em>nights</em> nor Sundays.</p> + +<p>Jennings pulled up. "Good morning, neighbor Bacon."</p> + +<p>"Mornin'," rumbled the old man without looking up.</p> + +<p>"Taking it easy, as usual, I see. Think it's going to clear up?"</p> + +<p>"May, an' may not. Don't make much differunce t' me," growled Bacon, +discouragingly.</p> + +<p>"Heard about the plan for a church?"</p> + +<p>"Naw."</p> + +<p>"Well, we're goin' to hire Elder Pill from Douglass to come over and +preach every Sunday afternoon at the school-house, an' we want help t' +pay him—the laborer is worthy of his hire."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> +"Sometimes he is an' then agin he ain't. Y' needn't look t' me f'r a +dollar. I ain't got no intrust in y'r church."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you have—besides, y'r wife "——</p> + +<p>"She ain't got no more time 'n I have t' go t' church. We're obleeged to +do 'bout all we c'n stand t' pay our debts, let alone tryun' to support +a preacher." And the old man shut the pinchers up on a barb with a +vicious grip.</p> + +<p>Easy-going Mr. Jennings laughed in his silent way. "I guess you'll help +when the time comes," he said, and, clucking to his team, drove off.</p> + +<p>"I guess I won't," muttered the grizzled old giant as he went on with +his work. Bacon was what is called land-poor in the West, that is, he +had more land than money; still he was able to give if he felt disposed. +It remains to say that he was <em>not</em> disposed, being a sceptic and a +scoffer. It angered him to have Jennings predict so confidently that he +would help.</p> + +<p>The sun was striking redly through a rift in the clouds, about three +o'clock in the afternoon, when he saw a man coming up the lane, walking +on the grass at the side of the road, and whistling merrily. The old man +looked at him from under his huge eyebrows with some curiosity. As he +drew near, the pedestrian ceased to whistle, and, just as the farmer +expected him to pass, he stopped and said, in a free and easy style:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> +"How de do? Give me a chaw t'baccer. I'm Pill, the new minister. I take +fine-cut when I can get it," he said, as Bacon put his hand into his +pocket. "Much obliged. How goes it?"</p> + +<p>"Tollable, tollable," said the astounded farmer, looking hard at Pill as +he flung a handful of tobacco into his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm the new minister sent around here to keep you fellows in the +traces and out of hell-fire. Have y' fled from the wrath?" he asked, in +a perfunctory way.</p> + +<p>"You are, eh?" said Bacon, referring back to his profession.</p> + +<p>"I am just! How do you like that style of barb fence? Ain't the twisted +wire better?"</p> + +<p>"I s'pose they be, but they cost more."</p> + +<p>"Yes, costs more to go to heaven than to hell. You'll think so after I +board with you a week. Narrow the road that leads to light, and broad +the way that leads—how's your soul anyway, brother?"</p> + +<p>"Soul's all right. I find more trouble to keep m' body go'n'."</p> + +<p>"Give us your hand; so do I. All the same we must prepare for the next +world. We're gettin' old; lay not up your treasures where moth and rust +corrupt and thieves break through and steal."</p> + +<p>Bacon was thoroughly interested in the preacher, and was studying him +carefully. He was tall,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> +straight, and superbly proportioned; +broad-shouldered, wide-lunged, and thewed like a Greek racer. His rather +small steel-blue eyes twinkled, and his shrewd face and small head, set +well back, completed a remarkable figure. He wore his reddish beard in +the usual way of Western clergymen, with mustache chopped close.</p> + +<p>Bacon spoke slowly:</p> + +<p>"You look like a good, husky man to pitch in the barnyard; you've too +much muscle f'r preachun'."</p> + +<p>"Come and hear me next Sunday, and if you say so then, I'll quit," +replied Mr. Pill, quietly. "I give ye my word for it. I believe in +preachers havin' a little of the flesh and the devil; they can +sympathize better with the rest of ye." The sarcasm was lost on Bacon, +who continued to look at him. Suddenly he said, as if with an +involuntary determination:</p> + +<p>"Where ye go'n' to stay t'night?"</p> + +<p>"I don' know; do you?" was the quick reply.</p> + +<p>"I reckon ye can hang out with me, 'f ye feel like ut. We ain't very +purty, ol' woman an' me, but we eat. You go along down the road and tell +'er I sent yeh. Y'll find an' ol' dusty Bible round some'rs—I s'pose ye +spend y'r spare time read'n about Joshua an' Dan'l"——</p> + +<p>"I spend more time reading men. Well, I'm off! I'm hungrier 'n a gray +wolf in a bear-trap." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> +And off he went as he came. But he did not whistle; he chewed.</p> + +<p>Bacon felt as if he had made too much of a concession, and had a strong +inclination to shout after him, and retract his invitation; but he did +not, only worked on, with an occasional bear-like grin. There was +something captivating in this fellow's free and easy way.</p> + +<p>When he came up to the house an hour or two later, in singular good +humor for him, he found the Elder in the creamery, with "the old woman" +and Marietta. Marietta was not more won by him than was Jane Bacon, he +was so genial and put on so few religious frills.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bacon never put on frills of any kind. She was a most frightful +toiler, only excelled (if excelled at all) by her husband. She was still +muscular in her age and shapelessness. Unlovely at her best, when about +her work in her faded calico gown and flat shoes, hair wisped into a +slovenly knot, she was depressing. But she was a good woman, of sterling +integrity, and ambitious for her girl.</p> + +<p>Marietta was as attractive as her mother was depressing. She was very +young at this time and had the physical perfection—at least as regards +body—that her parents must have had in youth. She was above the average +height of woman, with strong swell of bosom and glorious, erect +carriage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> +of head. Her features were coarse, but regular and pleasing, +and her manner boyish.</p> + +<p>Elder Pill was on the best of terms with them as he watched the milk +being skimmed out of the "submerged cans" ready for the "caaves and +hawgs," as Mrs. Bacon called them.</p> + +<p>"Dad told you t' come here 'nd stay t' supper, did he? What's come over +him?" said the girl, with a sort of audacious humor.</p> + +<p>"Dad has an awful grutch agin preachers," said Mrs. Bacon, as she wiped +her hands on her apron. "I declare, I don't see how"——</p> + +<p>"<em>Some</em> preachers, not <em>all</em> preachers," laughed Pill, in his mellow +nasal. "There are preachers, and then again preachers. I'm one o' the +t'other kind."</p> + +<p>"I sh'd think y' was," laughed the girl.</p> + +<p>"Now, Merry Etty, you run right t' the pig-pen with that milk, whilst I +go in an' set the tea on."</p> + +<p>Mr. Pill seized the can of milk, saying, with a twang: "Show me the way +that I may walk therein," and, accompanied by the laughing girl, made +rapid way to the pig-pen just as the old man set up a ferocious shout to +call the hired hand out of the cornfield.</p> + +<p>"How'd y' come to send <em>him</em> here?" asked Mrs. Bacon, nodding toward +Pill.</p> + +<p>"Damfino! I kind o' liked him—no nonsense +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> +about him," answered Bacon, going into temporary eclipse behind his hands +as he washed his face at the cistern.</p> + +<p>At the supper table Pill was "easy as an old shoe," ate with his knife, +talked on fatting hogs, suggested a few points on raising clover, told +of pioneer experiences in Michigan, and soon won them—hired man and +all—to a most favorable opinion of himself. But he did not trench on +religious matters at all.</p> + +<p>The hired man in his shirt-sleeves, and smelling frightfully of tobacco +and sweat (as did Bacon), sat with open month, at times forgetting to +eat, in his absorbing interest in the minister's yarns.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've got a family, too much of a family, in fact—that is, I think +so sometimes when I'm pinched. Our Western people are so indigent—in +plain terms, poor—they <em>can't</em> do any better than they do. But we pull +through—we pull through! John, you look like a stout fellow, but I'll +bet a hat I can <em>down</em> you three out of five."</p> + +<p>"I bet you can't," grinned the hired man. It was the climax of all, that +bet.</p> + +<p>"I'll take y' in hand an' flop y' both," roared Bacon from his lion-like +throat, his eyes glistening with rare good-nature from the shadow of his +gray brows. But he admired the minister's broad shoulders at the same +time. If this fellow panned out as he promised, he was a rare specimen. +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> +After supper the Elder played a masterly game of croquet with Marietta, +beating her with ease; then he wandered out to the barn and talked +horses with the hired man, and finished by stripping off his coat and +putting on one of Mrs. Bacon's aprons to help milk the cows.</p> + +<hr class="break" /> + +<p>But at breakfast the next morning, when the family were about pitching +into their food as usual without ceremony, "<em>Wait!</em>" said the visitor, +in an imperious tone and with lifted hand. "Let us look to the Lord for +His blessing."</p> + +<p>They waited till the grace was said, but it threw a depressing +atmosphere over the meal; evidently they considered the trouble begun. +At the end of the meal the minister asked:</p> + +<p>"Have you a Bible in the house?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon there's one in the house somewhere. Merry, go 'n see 'f y' +can't raise one," said Mrs. Bacon, indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Have you any objection to family devotion?" asked Pill, as the book was +placed in his hands by the girl.</p> + +<p>"No; have all you want," said Bacon, as he rose from the table and +passed out the door.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll see the thing through," said the hand. "It ain't just +square to leave the women folks to bear the brunt of it."</p> + +<p>It was shortly after breakfast that the Elder concluded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> +he'd walk up to Brother Jennings' and see about church matters.</p> + +<p>"I shall expect you, Brother Bacon, to be at the service at 2:30."</p> + +<p>"All right, go ahead expectun'," responded Bacon, with an inscrutable +sidewise glance.</p> + +<p>"You promised, you remember?"</p> + +<p>"The—devil—I did!" the old man snarled.</p> + +<p>The Elder looked back with a smile, and went off whistling in the warm, +bright morning.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">The</span> +school-house down on the creek was known as "Hell's Corners" all +through the county, because of the frequent rows that took place therein +at "corkuses" and the like, and also because of the number of teachers +that had been "ousted" by the boys. In fact, it was one of those places +still to be found occasionally in the West, far from railroads and +schools, where the primitive ignorance and ferocity of men still prowl, +like the panthers which are also found sometimes in the deeps of the +Iowa timber lands.</p> + +<p>The most of this ignorance and ferocity, however, was centered in the +family of Dixons, a dark-skinned, unsavory group of Missourians. It +consisted of old man Dixon and wife, and six sons, all man-grown, great, +gaunt, sinewy fellows, with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> +no education, but superstitious as savages. +If anything went wrong in 'Hell's Corners' everybody knew that the +Dixons were "on the rampage again." The school-teachers were warned +against the Dixons, and the preachers were besought to convert the +Dixons.</p> + +<p>In fact, John Jennings, as he drove Pill to the school-house next day, +said:</p> + +<p>"If you can convert the Dixon boys, Elder, I'll give you the best horse +in my barn."</p> + +<p>"I work not for such hire," said Mr. Pill, with a look of deep solemnity +on his face, belied, indeed, by a twinkle in his small, keen eye—a +twinkle which made Milton Jennings laugh candidly.</p> + +<p>There was considerable curiosity, expressed by a murmur of lips and +voices, as the minister's tall figure entered the door and stood for a +moment in a study of the scene before him. It was a characteristically +Western scene. The women were rigidly on one side of the school-room, +the men as rigidly on the other; the front seats were occupied by +squirming boys and girls in their Sunday splendor.</p> + +<p>On the back, to the right, were the young men, in their best vests, with +paper collars and butterfly neckties, with their coats unbuttoned, their +hair plastered down in a fascinating wave on their brown foreheads. Not +a few were in their shirt-sleeves. The older men sat immediately +between<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> +the youths and boys, talking in hoarse whispers across the +aisles about the state of the crops and the county ticket, while the +women in much the same way conversed about children and raising onions +and strawberries. It was their main recreation, this Sunday meeting.</p> + +<p>"Brethren!" rang out the imperious voice of the minister, "let us pray."</p> + +<p>The audience thoroughly enjoyed the Elder's prayer. He was certainly +gifted in that direction, and his petition grew genuinely eloquent as +his desires embraced the "ends of the earth and the utterm'st parts of +the seas thereof." But in the midst of it a clatter was heard, and five +or six strapping fellows filed in with loud thumpings of their brogans.</p> + +<p>Shortly after they had settled themselves with elaborate impudence on +the back seat, the singing began. Just as they were singing the last +verse, every individual voice wavered and all but died out in +astonishment to see William Bacon come in—an unheard-of thing! And with +a clean shirt, too! Bacon, to tell the truth, was feeling as much out of +place as a cat in a bath-tub, and looked uncomfortable, even shamefaced, +as he sidled in, his shapeless hat gripped nervously in both hands; +coatless and collarless, his shirt open at his massive throat. The girls +tittered, of course, and the boys hammered each other's ribs, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> moved by +the unusual sight. Milton Jennings, sitting beside Marietta, said:</p> + +<p>"Well! may I jump straight up and never come down!"</p> + +<p>And Shep Watson said: "May I never see the back o' my neck!" Which +pleased Marietta so much that she grew purple with efforts to conceal +her laughter; she always enjoyed a joke on her father.</p> + +<p>But all things have an end, and at last the room became quiet as Mr. +Pill began to read the Scripture, wondering a little at the commotion. +He suspected that those dark-skinned, grinning fellows on the back seat +were the Dixon boys, and knew they were bent on fun. The physique of the +minister being carefully studied, the boys began whispering among +themselves, and at last, just as the sermon opened, they began to push +the line of young men on the long seat over toward the girls' side, +squeezing Milton against Marietta. This pleasantry encouraged one of +them to whack his neighbor over the head with his soft hat, causing +great laughter and disturbance. The preacher stopped. His cool, +penetrating voice sounded strangely unclerical as he said:</p> + +<p>"There are some fellows here to-day to have fun with me. If they don't +keep quiet, they'll have more fun than they can hold." At this point a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> +green crab-apple bounded up the aisle. "I'm not to be bulldozed."</p> + +<p>He pulled off his coat and laid it on the table before him, and, amid a +wondering silence, took off his cuffs and collar, saying:</p> + +<p>"I can preach the word of the Lord just as well without my coat, and I +can throw rowdies out the door a little better in my shirt-sleeves."</p> + +<p>Had the Dixon boys been a little shrewder as readers of human character, +or if they had known why old William Bacon was there, they would have +kept quiet; but it was not long before they began to push again, and at +last one of them gave a squeak, and a tussle took place. The preacher +was in the midst of a sentence:</p> + +<p>"An evil deed, brethren, is like unto a grain of mustard seed. It is +small, but it grows steadily, absorbing its like from the earth and air, +sending out roots and branches, till at last"——</p> + +<p>There was a scuffle and a snicker. Mr. Pill paused, and gazed intently +at Tom Dixon, who was the most impudent and strongest of the gang; then +he moved slowly down on the astonished young savage. As he came his eyes +seemed to expand like those of an eagle in battle, steady, remorseless, +unwavering, at the same time that his brows shut down over them—a +glance that hushed every breath. The awed and astounded ruffians sat as +if paralyzed by the unuttered yet terribly ferocious +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> determination of +the preacher's eyes. His right hand was raised, the other was clenched +at his waist. There was a sort of solemnity in his approach, like a +tiger creeping upon a foe.</p> + +<p>At last, after what seemed minutes to the silent, motionless +congregation, his raised hand came down on the shoulder of the leader +with the exact, resistless precision of the tiger's paw, and the ruffian +was snatched from his seat to the floor sprawling. Before he could rise, +the steel-like grip of the roused preacher sent him half way to the +door, and then out into the dirt of the road.</p> + +<p>Turning, Pill came back down the aisle; as he came the half-risen +congregation made way for him, curiously. When he came within reach of +Dick, the fellow struck savagely out at the preacher, only to have his +blow avoided by a lithe, lightning-swift movement of the body above the +hips (a trained boxer's trick), and to find himself also lying bruised +and dazed on the floor.</p> + +<p>By this time the rest of the brothers had recovered from their stupor, +and, with wild curses, leaped over the benches toward the fearless Pill.</p> + +<p>But now a new voice was heard in the sudden uproar—a new but familiar +voice. It was the raucous snarl of William Bacon, known far and wide as +a terrible antagonist, a man who had never been whipped. He was like a +wild beast excited to primitive savagery by the smell of blood.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> +"<em>Stand back</em>, you hell-hounds!" he said, leaping between them and the +preacher. "You know me. Lay another hand on that man an', by the livun' +God, you answer t' me. Back thear!"</p> + +<p>Some of the men cheered, most stood irresolute. The women crowded +together, the children began to scream with terror, while through it all +Pill was dragging his last assailant toward the door.</p> + +<p>Bacon made his way down to where the Dixons had halted, undecided what +to do. If the preacher had the air and action of the tiger, Bacon looked +the grizzly bear—his eyebrows working up and down, his hands clenched +into frightful bludgeons, his breath rushing through his hairy nostrils.</p> + +<p>"Git out o' hyare," he growled. "You've run things here jest about long +enough. Git out!"</p> + +<p>His hands were now on the necks of two of the boys, and he was hustling +them toward the door.</p> + +<p>"If you want 'o whip the preacher, meet him in the public road—one at a +time; he'll take care o' himself. Out with ye," he ended, kicking them +out. "Show your faces here agin, an' I'll break ye in two."</p> + +<p>The non-combative farmers now began to see the humor of the whole +transaction and began to laugh; but they were cut short by the calm +voice of the preacher at his desk:</p> + +<p>"But a <em>good</em> deed, brethren, is like unto a grain +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> +of wheat planted in good earth, that bringeth forth fruit in due season +an hundred fold."</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">Mr. Pill,</span> +with all his seeming levity, was a powerful hand at revivals, +as was developed at the "protracted" meetings held at the Corners during +December. Indeed, such was the pitiless intensity of his zeal that a +gloom was cast over the whole township; the ordinary festivities stopped +or did not begin at all.</p> + +<p>The lyceum, which usually began by the first week in December, was put +entirely out of the question, as were the spelling-schools and +"exhibitions." The boys, it is true, still drove the girls to meeting in +the usual manner; but they all wore a furtive, uneasy air, and their +laughter was not quite genuine at its best, and died away altogether +when they came near the school-house, and they hardly recovered from the +effects of the preaching till a mile or two had been spun behind the +shining runners. It took all the magic of the jingle of the bells and +the musical creak of the polished steel on the snow to win them back to +laughter.</p> + +<p>As for Elder Pill, he was as a man transformed. He grew more intense +each night, and strode back forth behind his desk and pounded the Bible +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> +like an assassin. No more games with the boys, no more poking the girls +under the chin! When he asked for a chew of tobacco now it was with an +air which said: "I ask it as sustenance that will give me strength for +the Lord's service," as if the demands of the flesh had weakened the +spirit.</p> + +<p>Old man Bacon overtook Milton Jennings early one Monday morning, as +Milton was marching down toward the Seminary at Rock River. It was +intensely cold and still, so cold and still that the ring of the cold +steel of the heavy sleigh, the snort of the horses, and the old man's +voice came with astonishing distinctness to the ears of the hurrying +youth, and it seemed a very long time before the old man came up.</p> + +<p>"Climb on!" he yelled, out of his frosty beard. He was seated on the +"hind bob" of a wood-sleigh, on a couple of blankets. Milton clambered +on, knowing well he'd freeze to death there.</p> + +<p>"Reckon I heerd you prowlun' around the front door with my girl last +night," Bacon said at length. "The way you both 'tend out t' meetun' +ought 'o sanctify yeh; must 'a' stayed to the after-meetun', didn't +yeh?"</p> + +<p>"Nope. The front part was enough for"——</p> + +<p>"Danged if I was any more fooled with a man in m' life. I b'lieve the +whole thing is a little scheme on the bretheren t' raise a dollar."</p> + +<p>"Why so?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> +"Waal, y' see Pill ain't got much out o' the app'intment thus fur, and +he ain't likely to, if he don't shake 'em up a leetle. Borrud ten +dollars o' me t'other day."</p> + +<p>Well, thought Milton, whatever his real motive is, Elder Pill is earning +all he gets. Standing for two or three hours in his place night after +night, arguing, pleading, but mainly commanding them to be saved.</p> + +<p>Milton was describing the scenes of the meeting to Bradley Talcott and +Douglas Radbourn the next day, and Radbourn, a young law student said:</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see him. He must be a character."</p> + +<p>"Let's make up a party and go out," said Milton, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"All right; I'll speak to Lily Graham."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, that evening a party of students, in a large sleigh, drove +out toward the school-house, along the drifted lanes and through the +beautiful aisles of the snowy woods. A merry party of young people, who +had no sense of sin to weigh them down. Even Radbourn and Lily joined in +the songs which they sang to the swift clanging of the bells, until the +lights of the school-house burned redly through the frosty air.</p> + +<p>Not a few of the older people present felt scandalized by the singing +and by the dancing of the "town girls," who could not for the life of +them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> +take the thing seriously. The room was so little, and hot, and +smoky, and the men looked so queer in their rough coats and hair +every which-way.</p> + +<p>But they took their seats demurely on the back seat, and joined in the +opening songs, and listened to the halting prayers of the brethren and +the sonorous prayers of the Elder, with commendable gravity. Miss Graham +was a devout Congregationalist, and hushed the others into gravity when +their eyes began to dance dangerously.</p> + +<p>However, as Mr. Pill warmed to his work, the girls grew sober enough. He +awed them, and frightened them with the savagery of his voice and +manner. His small gray eyes were like daggers unsheathed, and his small, +round head took on a cat-like ferocity, as he strode to and fro, hurling +out his warnings and commands in a hoarse howl that terrified the +sinner, and drew 'amens' of admiration from the saints.</p> + +<p>"Atavism; he has gone back to the era of the medicine man," Radbourn +murmured.</p> + +<p>As the speaker went on, foam came upon his thin lips; his lifted hand +had prophecy and threatening in it. His eyes reflected flames; his voice +had now the tone of the implacable, vindictive judge. He gloated on the +pictures that his words called up. By the power of his imagination the +walls widened, the floor was no longer felt, the crowded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> room grew +still as death, every eye fixed on the speaker's face.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, you must repent or die. I can see the great judgment angel +now!" he said, stopping suddenly and pointing above the stove-pipe. "I +can see him as he stands weighing your souls as a man 'ud weigh wheat +and chaff. Wheat goes into the Father's garner; chaff is blown to hell's +devouring flame! I can see him <em>now</em>! He seizes a poor, damned, +struggling soul by the <em>neck</em>, he holds him over the flaming forge of +<em>hell</em> till his bones melt like wax; he shrivels like thread in a flame +of a candle; he is nothing but a charred husk, and the angel flings him +back into <em>outer darkness</em>; life was not in him."</p> + +<p>It was this astonishing figure, powerfully acted, that scared poor Tom +Dixon into crying out for mercy. The effect on the rest was awful. To +see so great a sinner fall terror-stricken seemed like a providential +stroke of confirmatory evidence, and nearly a dozen other young people +fell crying. Whereat the old people burst out into amens with +unspeakable fervor. But the preacher, the wild light still in his eyes, +tore up and down, crying above the tumult:</p> + +<p>"The Lord is come with <em>power</em>! His hand is visible <em>here</em>. Shout +<em>aloud</em> and spare <em>not</em>. Fall before him as <em>dust</em> to his feet! +Hypocrites, vipers, scoffers! the <em>lash</em> o' the <em>Lord</em> is on ye!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span> +In the intense pause which followed as he waited with expectant, +uplifted face—a pause so deep even the sobbing sinners held their +breath—a dry, drawling, utterly matter-of-fact voice broke the tense +hush.</p> + +<p>"S-a-y, Pill, ain't you a bearun' down on the boys a <em>leetle too</em> hard?"</p> + +<p>The preacher's extended arm fell as if life had gone out of it. His face +flushed and paled; the people laughed hysterically, some of them the +tears of terror still on their cheeks; but Radbourn said, "Bravo, +Bacon!"</p> + +<p>Pill recovered himself.</p> + +<p>"Not hard enough for <em>you</em>, neighbor Bacon."</p> + +<p>Bacon rose, retaining the same dry, prosaic tone:</p> + +<p>"I ain't bitin' that kind of a hook, an' I ain't goin' to be <em>yanked</em> +into heaven when I c'n <em>slide</em> into hell. Waal! I must be goin'; I've +got a new-milk's cow that needs tendin' to."</p> + +<p>The effect of all this was indescribable. From being at the very mouth +of the furnace, quivering with fear and captive to morbid imaginings, +Bacon's dry intonation had brought them all back to earth again. They +saw a little of the absurdity of the whole situation.</p> + +<p>Pill was beaten for the first time in his life. He had been struck below +the belt by a good-natured giant. The best he could do, as Bacon +shuffled calmly out, was to stammer: "Will some one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> please sing?" And +while they sang, he stood in deep thought. Just as the last verse was +quivering into silence, the full, deep tones of Radbourn's voice rose +above the bustle of feet and clatter of seats:</p> + +<p>"And all <em>that</em> he preaches in the name of Him who came bringing peace +and good-will to men."</p> + +<p>Radbourn's tone had in it reproach and a noble suggestion. The people +looked at him curiously. The deacons nodded their heads together in +counsel, and when they turned to the desk Pill was gone!</p> + +<p>"Gee whittaker! That was tough," said Milton to Radbourn; "knocked the +wind out o' him like a cannon-ball. What'll he do now?</p> + +<p>"He can't do anything but acknowledge his foolishness."</p> + +<p>"You no business t' come here an' 'sturb the Lord's meetin'," cried old +Daddy Brown to Radbourn. "You're a sinner and a scoffer."</p> + +<p>"I thought Bacon was the disturbing ele"——</p> + +<p>"You're just as bad!"</p> + +<p>"He's all <em>right</em>," said William Councill. "I've got sick, m'self, of +bein' <em>scared</em> into religion. I never was so fooled in a man in my life. +If I'd tell you what Pill said to me the other day, when we was in +Robie's store, you'd fall in a fit. An' to hear him talkin' here +t'night, is enough to make a horse laugh."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> +"You're all in league with the devil," said the old man wildly; and so +the battle raged on.</p> + +<p>Milton and Radbourn escaped from it, and got out into the clear, cold, +untainted night.</p> + +<p>"The heat of the furnace don't reach as far as the horses," Radbourn +moralized, as he aided in unhitching the shivering team. "In the vast, +calm spaces of the stars, among the animals, such scenes as we have just +seen are impossible." He lifted his hand in a lofty gesture. The light +fell on his pale face and dark eyes.</p> + +<p>The girls were a little indignant and disposed to take the preacher's +part. They thought Bacon had no right to speak out that way, and Miss +Graham uttered her protest, as they whirled away on the homeward ride +with pleasant jangle of bells.</p> + +<p>"But the secret of it all was," said Radbourn in answer, "Pill knew he +was acting a part. I don't mean that he meant to deceive, but he got +excited, and his audience responded as an audience does to an actor of +the first class, and he was for the time in earnest; his imagination +<em>did</em> see those horrors,—he was swept away by his own words. But when +Bacon spoke, his dry tone and homely words brought everybody, preacher +and all, back to the earth with a thump! Every body saw that, after +weeping and wailing there for an hour, they'd go home, feed the calves, +hang up the lantern, put +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> +out the cat, wind the clock, and go to bed. In +other words, they all came back out of their barbaric <i>powwow</i> to their +natural modern selves."</p> + +<p>This explanation had palpable truth, but Lily had a dim feeling that it +had wider application than to the meeting they had just left.</p> + +<p>"They'll be music around this clearing to-morrow," said Milton, with a +sigh; "wish I was at home this week."</p> + +<p>"But what'll become of Mr. Pill?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he'll come out all right," Radbourn assured her, and Milton's clear +tenor rang out as he drew Eileen closer to his side:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>"O silver moon, O silver moon,<br /> +You set, you set too soon—<br /> +The morrow day is far away,<br /> +The night is but begun."</p> +</div> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">The</span> +news, grotesquely exaggerated, flew about the next day, and at +night, though it was very cold and windy, the house was jammed to +suffocation. On these lonely prairies life is so devoid of anything but +work, dramatic entertainments are so few, and appetite so keen, that a +temperature of twenty degrees below zero is no bar to a trip of ten +miles. The protracted meeting was the only recreation for many of them. +The gossip before and after service was a delight not to be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> lost, and +this last sensation was dramatic enough to bring out old men and women +who had not dared to go to church in winter for ten years.</p> + +<p>Long before seven o'clock, the school-house blazed with light and buzzed +with curious speech. Team after team drove up to the door, and as the +drivers leaped out to receive the women, they said in low but eager +tones to the bystanders:</p> + +<p>"Meeting begun yet?"</p> + +<p>"Nope!"</p> + +<p>"What kind of a time y' havin' over here, any way?"</p> + +<p>"A mighty solumn time," somebody would reply to a low laugh.</p> + +<p>By seven o'clock every inch of space was occupied; the air was +frightful. The kerosene lamps gave off gas and smoke, the huge stove +roared itself into an angry red on its jack-oak grubs, and still people +crowded in at the door.</p> + +<p>Discussion waxed hot as the stove; two or three Universalists boldly +attacked everybody who came their way. A tall man stood on a bench in +the corner, and, thumping his Bible wildly with his fist, exclaimed, at +the top of his voice:</p> + +<p>"There is <em>no</em> hell at <em>all!</em> The Bible says the +<em>wicked</em> perish <em>utterly</em>. They are <i>consumed</i> +as <em>ashes</em> when they die. They <em>perish</em> +as <em>dogs!</em>"</p> + +<p>"What kind o' docterin' is that?" asked a short man of Councill.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> +"I d'know. It's ol' Sam Richards. Calls himself a +Christian—Christadelphian 'r some new-fangled name."</p> + +<p>At last people began to inquire, "Well, ain't he comin'?"</p> + +<p>"Most time f'r the Elder to come, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I guess he's preparin' a sermon."</p> + +<p>John Jennings pushed anxiously to Daddy Brown.</p> + +<p>"Ain't the Elder comin'?"</p> + +<p>"I d'know. He didn't stay at my house."</p> + +<p>"He didn't?"</p> + +<p>"No. Thought he went home with you."</p> + +<p>"I ain't see 'im 't all. I'll ask Councill. Brother Councill, seen +anything of the Elder?"</p> + +<p>"No. Didn't he go home with Bensen?"</p> + +<p>"I d'n know. I'll see."</p> + +<p>This was enough to start the news that "Pill had skipped."</p> + +<p>This the deacons denied, saying "he'd come or send word."</p> + +<p>Outside, on the leeward side of the house, the young men who couldn't +get in stood restlessly, now dancing a jig, now kicking their huge boots +against the underpinning to warm their toes. They talked spasmodically +as they swung their arms about their chests, speaking from behind their +huge buffalo-coat collars.</p> + +<p>The wind roared through the creaking oaks; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span> +the horses stirred complainingly, the bells on their backs crying out +querulously; the heads of the fortunates inside were shadowed outside +on the snow, and the restless young men amused themselves betting on +which head was Bensen and which Councill.</p> + +<p>At last some one pounded on the desk inside. The suffocating but lively +crowd turned with painful adjustment toward the desk, from whence Deacon +Benson's high, smooth voice sounded:</p> + +<p>"Brethren an' sisters, Elder Pill hain't come—and, as it's about eight +o'clock, he probably won't come to-night. After the disturbances last +night, it's—a—a—we're all the more determined +to—the—a—need of reforming grace is more felt than ever. +Let us hope nothing has happened to the Elder. I'll go see to-morrow, and +if he is unable to come—I'll see Brother Wheat, of Cresco. After +prayer by Brother Jennings, we will adjourn till to-morrow night. Brother +Jennings, will you lead us in prayer?" (Some one snickered.) "I hope the +disgraceful—a—scenes of last night will not be repeated."</p> + +<p>"Where's Pill?" demanded a voice in the back part of the room. "That's +what I want to know."</p> + +<p>"He's a bad pill," said another, repeating a pun already old.</p> + +<p>"I guess so! He borrowed twenty dollars o' me last week," said the first +voice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span> +"He owes me for a pig," shouted a short man, excitedly. "I believe he's +skipped to get rid o' his debts."</p> + +<p>"So do I. I allus said he was a mighty queer preacher."</p> + +<p>"He'd bear watchin' was my idee fust time I ever see him."</p> + +<p>"Careful, brethren—<em>careful</em>. He may come at any minute."</p> + +<p>"I don't care if he does. I'd bone him f'r pay f'r that shote, preacher +'r no preacher," said Bartlett, a little nervously.</p> + +<p>High words followed this, and there was prospect of a fight. The +pressure of the crowd, however, was so great it was well-nigh impossible +for two belligerents to get at each other. The meeting broke up at last, +and the people, chilly, soured, and disappointed at the lack of +developments, went home saying Pill was <em>scaly</em>; no preacher who chawed +terbacker was to be trusted; and when it was learned that the horse and +buggy he drove he owed Jennings and Bensen for, everybody said, "He's a +fraud."</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">In</span> +the meantime, Andrew Pill was undergoing the most singular and awful +mental revolution.</p> + +<p>When he leaped blindly into his cutter and gave +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> +his horse the rein, he +was wild with rage and shame, and a sort of fear. As he sat with bent +head, he did not hear the tread of the horse, and did not see the trees +glide past. The rabbit leaped away under the shadow of the thick groves +of young oaks; the owl, scared from its perch, went fluttering off into +the cold, crisp air; but he saw only the contemptuous, quizzical face of +old William Bacon—one shaggy eyebrow lifted, a smile showing through +his shapeless beard.</p> + +<p>He saw the colorless, handsome face of Radbourn, with a look of reproach +and a note of suggestion—Radbourn, one of the best thinkers and +speakers in Rock River, and the most generally admired young man in Rock +County.</p> + +<p>When he saw and heard Bacon, his hurt pride flamed up in wrath, but the +calm voice of Radbourn, and the look in his stern, accusing eyes, made +his head fall in thought. As he rode, things grew clearer. As a matter +of fact, his whole system of religious thought was like the side of a +shelving sand-bank—in unstable equilibrium—needing only a touch to +send it slipping into a shapeless pile at the river's edge. That touch +had been given, and he was now in the midst of the motion of his falling +faith. He didn't know how much would stand when the sloughing ended.</p> + +<p>Andrew Pill had been a variety of things, a farmer, a dry-goods +merchant, and a traveling +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> +salesman, but in a revival quite like this of +his own, he had been converted and his life changed. He now desired to +help his fellow-men to a better life, and willingly went out among the +farmers, where pay was small. It was not true, therefore, that he had +gone into it because there was little work and good pay. He was really +an able man, and would have been a success in almost anything he +undertook; but his reading and thought, his easy intercourse with men +like Bacon and Radbourn, had long since undermined any real faith in the +current doctrine of retribution, and to-night, as he rode into the +night, he was feeling it all and suffering it all, forced to acknowledge +at last what had been long moving.</p> + +<p>The horse took the wrong road, and plodded along steadily, carrying him +away from his home, but he did not know it for a long time. When at last +he looked up and saw the road leading out upon the wide plain between +the belts of timber, leading away to Rock River, he gave a sigh of +relief. He could not meet his wife then; he must have a chance to think.</p> + +<p>Over him, the glittering, infinite sky of winter midnight soared, +passionless, yet accusing in its calmness, sweetness and majesty. What +was he that he could dogmatize on eternal life and the will of the Being +who stood behind that veil? And then would come rushing back that scene +in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> +the school-house, the smell of the steaming garments, the gases from +the lamps, the roar of the stove, the sound of his own voice, strident, +dominating, so alien to his present mood, he could only shudder at it.</p> + +<p>He was worn out with the thinking when he drove into the stable at the +Merchants' House and roused up the sleeping hostler, who looked at him +suspiciously and demanded pay in advance. This seemed right in his +present mood. He was not to be trusted.</p> + +<p>When he flung himself face downward on his bed, the turmoil in his brain +was still going on. He couldn't hold one thought or feeling long; all +seemed slipping like water from his hands.</p> + +<p>He had in him great capacity for change, for growth. Circumstances had +been against his development thus far, but the time had come when growth +seemed to be defeat and failure.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>VI.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">Radbourn</span> +was thinking about him, two days after, as he sat in his friend +Judge Brown's law office, poring over a volume of law. He saw that +Bacon's treatment had been heroic; he couldn't get that pitiful +confusion of the preacher's face out of his mind. But, after all, +Bacon's seizing of just that instant was a stroke of genius.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> +Some one touched him on the arm.</p> + +<p>"Why,—Elder,—Mr. Pill, how de do? Sit down. Draw up a chair."</p> + +<p>There was trouble in the preacher's face. "Can I see you, Radbourn, +alone?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; come right into this room. No one will disturb us there."</p> + +<p>"Now, what can I do for you?" he said, as they sat down.</p> + +<p>"I want to talk with you about—about religion," said Pill, with a +little timid pause in his voice.</p> + +<p>Radbourn looked grave. "I'm afraid you've come to a dangerous man."</p> + +<p>"I want you to tell me what you think. I know you're a student. I want +to talk about my case," pursued the preacher, with a curious hesitancy. +"I want to ask a few questions on things."</p> + +<p>"Very well; sail in. I'll do the best I can," said Radbourn.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking a good deal since that night. I've come to the +conclusion that I don't believe what I've been preaching. I thought I +did, but I didn't. I don't know <em>what</em> I believe. Seems as if the land +had slid from under my feet. What am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"Say so," replied Radbourn, his eyes kindling. "Say so, and get out of +it. There's nothing worse +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> +than staying where you are. What have you +saved from the general land-slide?"</p> + +<p>Pill smiled a little. "I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Want me to cross-examine you and see, eh? Very well, here goes." He +settled back with a smile. "You believe in square dealing between man +and man?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"You believe in good deeds, candor and steadfastness?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"You believe in justice, equality of opportunity, and in liberty?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do."</p> + +<p>"You believe, in short, that a man should do unto others as he'd have +others do unto him; think right and live out his thoughts?"</p> + +<p>"All that I steadfastly believe."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess your land-slide was mostly imaginary. The face of the +eternal rock is laid bare. You didn't recognize it at first, that's all. +One question more. You believe in truth?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Well, truth is only found from the generalizations of facts. Before +calling a thing true, study carefully all accessible facts. Make your +religion practical. The matter-of-fact tone of Bacon would have had no +force if you had been preaching an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> +earnest morality in place of an antiquated terrorism."</p> + +<p>"I know it; I know it," sighed Pill, looking down.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, go back and tell 'em so. And then, if you can't keep your +place preaching what you do believe, get into something else. For the +sake of all morality and manhood, don't go on cursing yourself with +hypocrisy."</p> + +<p>Mr. Pill took a chew of tobacco, rather distractedly, and said:</p> + +<p>"I'd like to ask you a few questions."</p> + +<p>"No, not now. You think out your present position yourself. Find out +just what you have saved from your land-slide."</p> + +<p>The elder man rose; he hardly seemed the same man who had dominated his +people a few days before. He turned with still greater embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"I want to ask a favor. I'm going back to my family. I'm going to say +something of what you've said, to my congregation—but—I'm +in debt—and the moment they know I'm a backslider, they're going +to bear down on me pretty heavy. I'd like to be independent."</p> + +<p>"I see. How much do you need?" mused Radbourn.</p> + +<p>"I guess two hundred would stave off the worst of them."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> +"I guess Brown and I can fix that. Come in again to-night. Or no, I'll +bring it round to you."</p> + +<p>The two men parted with a silent pressure of the hand that meant more +than any words.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Pill told his wife that he could preach no more, she cried, and +gasped, and scolded till she was in danger of losing her breath +entirely. "A guinea-hen sort of a woman" Councill called her. "She can +talk more an' say less'n any woman I ever see," was Bacon's verdict, +after she had been at dinner at his house. She was a perpetual irritant.</p> + +<p>Mr. Pill silenced her at last with a note of impatience approaching a +threat, and he drove away to the Corners to make his confession without +her. It was Saturday night, and Elder Wheat was preaching as he entered +the crowded room. A buzz and mumble of surprise stopped the orator for a +few moments, and he shook hands with Mr. Pill dubiously, not knowing +what to think of it all, but as he was in the midst of a very effective +oratorical scene, he went on.</p> + +<p>The silent man at his side felt as if he were witnessing a burlesque of +himself as he listened to the pitiless and lurid description of torment +which Elder Wheat poured forth—the same figures and threats he had used +a hundred times. He stirred uneasily in his seat, while the audience +paid so little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> +attention that the perspiring little orator finally +called for a hymn, saying:</p> + +<p>"Elder Pill has returned from his unexpected absence, and will exhort in +his proper place."</p> + +<p>When the singing ended, Mr. Pill rose, looking more like himself than +since the previous Sunday. A quiet resolution was in his eyes and voice +as he said:</p> + +<p>"Elder Wheat has more right here than I have. I want 'o say that I'm +going to give up my church in Douglass and"——A murmur broke out, +which he silenced with his raised hand. "I find I don't believe any +longer what I've been believing and preaching. Hold on! let me go on. I +don't quite know where I'll bring up, but I think my religion will +simmer down finally to about this: A full half-bushel to the half-bushel +and sixteen ounces to the pound." Here two or three cheered. "Do unto +others as you'd have others do unto you." Applause from several, quickly +suppressed as the speaker went on, Elder Wheat listening as if +petrified, with his mouth open.</p> + +<p>"I'm going out of preaching, at least for the present. After things get +into shape with me again, I may set up to teach people how to live, but +just now I can't do it. I've got all I can do to instruct myself. Just +one thing more. I owe two or three of you here. I've got the money for +William Bacon, James Bartlett and John Jennings. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span> +I turn the mare and cutter over to Jacob Bensen, for the note he holds. +I hain't got much religion left, but I've got some morality. That's all +I want to say now."</p> + +<p>When he sat down there was a profound hush; then Bacon arose.</p> + +<p>"That's <em>man's</em> talk, that is! An' I jest want 'o say, Andrew Pill, that +you kin jest forgit you owe me anything. An' if ye want any help come to +me. Y're jest gittun' ready to preach, 'n' I'm ready to give ye my +support."</p> + +<p>"That's the talk," said Councill. "I'm with ye on that."</p> + +<p>Pill shook his head. The painful silence which followed was broken by +the effusive voice of Wheat:</p> + +<p>"Let us pray—and remember our lost brother."</p> + +<hr class="break" /> + +<p>The urgings of the people were of no avail. Mr. Pill settled up his +affairs, and moved to Cresco, where he went back into trade with a +friend, and for three years attended silently to his customers, lived +down their curiosity and studied anew the problem of life. Then he moved +away, and no one knew whither.</p> + +<p>One day, last year, Bacon met Jennings on the road.</p> + +<p>"Heerd anything o' Pill lately?"</p> + +<p>"No; have you?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> +"Waal, yes. Brown told me he ran acrost him down in Eelinoy, doun' well, +too."</p> + +<p>"In dry goods?"</p> + +<p>"No, preachun'."</p> + +<p>"Preachun'?"</p> + +<p>"So Brown said. Kind of a free-f'r-all church, I reckon from what Jedge +told me. Built a new church, fills it twice a Sunday. I'd like to hear +him, but he's got t' be too big a gun f'r us. Ben studyun', they say; +went t' school."</p> + +<p>Jennings drove sadly and thoughtfully on.</p> + +<p>"Rather stumps Brother Jennings," laughed Bacon, in his leonine +fashion.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div class="chapter-intro"> +<p> +<a name="Part_III." id="Part_III."></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> +<br /><br /><br /></p> +<h2><a href="#Contents">Part III.</a></h2> +<p class="chapter-title2" style="font-size:160%">WILLIAM BACON'S HIRED MAN: +<span style="font-size:90%">AND DAUGHTER MARIETTA.</span></p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" /></div> +<table summary="poem"><tr><td> +<p>... <i>Love and youth pass swiftly: Love sings,<br /> +And April's sun fans warmer sunlight from his wings.</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" /></div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> +<h2>WILLIAM BACON'S MAN</h2> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf separating chapter header from text]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf separating chapter header from text]" /></div> +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">The</span> +yellow March sun lay powerfully on the bare Iowa prairie, where the +plowed fields were already turning warm and brown, and only here and +there in a corner or on the north side of the fence did the sullen +drifts remain, and they were so dark and low that they hardly appeared +to break the mellow brown of the fields.</p> + +<p>There passed also an occasional flock of geese, cheerful harbingers of +spring, and the prairie-chickens had set up their morning symphony, +wide-swelling, wonderful with its prophecy of the new birth of grass and +grain and the springing life of all breathing things. The crow passed +now and then, uttering his resonant croak, but the crane had not yet +sent forth his bugle note.</p> + +<p>Lyman Gilman rested on his ax-helve at the wood-pile of Farmer Bacon to +listen to the music around him. In a vague way he was powerfully moved +by it. He heard the hens singing their weird, raucous, monotonous song, +and saw them burrowing in the dry chip-dust near him. He saw +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span> the young +colts and cattle frisking in the sunny space around the straw-stacks, +absorbed through his bare arms and uncovered head the heat of the sun, +and felt the soft wooing of the air so deeply that he broke into an +unwonted exclamation:</p> + +<p>"Glory! we'll be seeding by Friday, sure."</p> + +<p>This short and disappointing soliloquy was, after all, an expression of +deep emotion. To the Western farmer the very word "seeding" is a poem. +And these few words, coming from Lyman Gilman, meant more and expressed +more than many a large and ambitious spring-time song.</p> + +<p>But the glory of all the slumbrous landscape, the stately beauty of the +sky with its masses of fleecy vapor, were swept away by the sound of a +girl's voice humming, "Come to the Savior," while she bustled about the +kitchen near by. The windows were open. Ah! what suggestion to these +dwellers in a rigorous climate was in the first unsealing of the +windows! How sweet it was to the pale and weary women after their long +imprisonment!</p> + +<p>As Lyman sat down on his maple log to hear better, a plump face appeared +at the window, and a clear girl-voice said:</p> + +<p>"Smell anything, Lime?"</p> + +<p>He snuffed the air. "Cookies, by the great horn spoons!" he yelled, +leaping up. "Bring me some, an' see me eat; it'll do ye good."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> +"Come an' get 'm," laughed the face at the window.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nicer out here, Merry Etty. What's the rush? Bring me out +some, an' set down on this log."</p> + +<p>With a nod Marietta disappeared, and soon came out with a plate of +cookies in one hand and a cup of milk in the other.</p> + +<p>"Poor little man, he's all tired out, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>Lime, taking the cue, collapsed in a heap, and said feebly, "Bread, +bread!"</p> + +<p>"Won't milk an' cookies do as well?"</p> + +<p>He brushed off the log and motioned her to sit down beside him, but she +hesitated a little and colored a little.</p> + +<p>"O Lime, s'pose somebody should see us?"</p> + +<p>"Let 'em. What in thunder do we care? Sit down an' gimme a holt o' them +cakes. I'm just about done up. I couldn't 'a' stood it another minute."</p> + +<p>She sat down beside him with a laugh and a pretty blush. She was in her +apron, and the sleeves of her dress were rolled to her elbows, +displaying the strong, round arms. Wholesome and sweet she looked and +smelled, the scent of the cooking round her. Lyman munched a couple of +the cookies and gulped a pint of milk before he spoke.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> +"Whadda we care who sees us sittin' side b' side? Ain't we goin' t' be +married soon?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, them cookies in the oven!" she shrieked, leaping up and running to +the house. She looked back as she reached the kitchen door, however, and +smiled with a flushed face. Lime slapped his knee and roared with +laughter at his bold stroke.</p> + +<p>"Ho! ho!" he laughed. "Didn't I do it slick? Ain't nothin' green in <em>my</em> +eye, I guess." In an intense and pleasurable abstraction he finished the +cookies and the milk. Then he yelled:</p> + +<p>"Hey! Merry—Merry Etty!"</p> + +<p>"Whadda ye want?" sang the girl from the window, her face still rosy +with confusion.</p> + +<p>"Come out here and git these things."</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Come out an' git 'm, 'r by jingo I'll throw 'em at ye! Come on, now!"</p> + +<p>The girl looked at the huge, handsome fellow, the sun falling on his +golden hair and beard, and came slowly out to him—came creeping along +with her hand outstretched for the plate which Lime, with a laugh in his +sunny blue eyes, extended at the full length of his bare arm. The girl +made a snatch at it, but his left hand caught her by the wrist, and away +went cup and plate as he drew her to him and kissed her in spite of her +struggles.</p> + +<p>"My! ain't you strong!" she said, half-ruefully +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> +and half-admiringly, as +she shrugged her shoulders. "If you'd use a little more o' <em>that</em> +choppin' wood, Dad wouldn't 'a' lost s' much money by yeh."</p> + +<p>Lime grew grave.</p> + +<p>"There's the hog in the fence, Merry; what's yer dad goin' t' say"——</p> + +<p>"About what?"</p> + +<p>"About our gitt'n' married this spring."</p> + +<p>"I guess you'd better find out what <em>I'm</em> a-goin' t' say, Lime Gilman, +'fore you pitch into Dad."</p> + +<p>"I <em>know</em> what you're a-goin' t' say."</p> + +<p>"No, y' don't."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I <em>do</em>, though."</p> + +<p>"Well, ask me, and see, if you think you're so smart. Jest as like 's +not, you'll slip up."</p> + +<p>"All right; here goes. Marietty Bacon, ain't you an' Lime Gilman goin' +t' be married?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, we ain't," laughed the girl, snatching up the plate and +darting away to the house, where she struck up "Weevily Wheat," and went +busily on about her cooking. Lime threw a kiss at her, and fell to work +on his log with startling energy.</p> + +<p>Lyman looked forward to his interview with the old man with as much +trepidation as he had ever known, though commonly he had little fear of +anything—but a girl.</p> + +<p>Marietta was not only the old man's only child, his housekeeper, his +wife having at last succumbed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> +to the ferocious toil of the farm. It was +reasonable to suppose, therefore, that he would surrender his claim on +the girl reluctantly. Rough as he was, he loved Marietta strongly, and +would find it exceedingly hard to get along without her.</p> + +<p>Lyman mused on these things as he drove the gleaming ax into the huge +maple logs. He was something more than the usual hired man, being a +lumberman from the Wisconsin pineries, where he had sold out his +interest in a camp not three weeks before the day he began work for +Bacon. He had a nice "little wad o' money" when he left the camp and +started for La Crosse, but he had been robbed in his hotel the first +night in the city, and was left nearly penniless. It was a great blow to +him, for, as he said, every cent of that money "stood fer hard knocks +an' poor feed. When I smelt of it I could jest see the cold, frosty +mornin's and the late nights. I could feel the hot sun on my back like +it was when I worked in the harvest-field. By jingo! It kind o' made my +toes curl up."</p> + +<p>But he went resolutely out to work again, and here he was chopping wood +in old man Bacon's yard, thinking busily on the talk which had just +passed between him and Marietta.</p> + +<p>"By jingo!" he said all at once, stopping short, with the ax on his +shoulder. "If I hadn't 'a' been robbed I wouldn't 'a' come here—I +never'd met<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> +Merry. Thunder and jimson root! Wasn't that a narrow +escape?"</p> + +<p>And then he laughed so heartily that the girl looked out of the window +again to see what in the world he was doing. He had his hat in his hand +and was whacking his thigh with it.</p> + +<p>"Lyman Gilman, what in the world ails you to-day? It's perfectly +ridiculous the way you yell and talk t' y'rself out there on the chips. +You beat the hens, I declare if you don't."</p> + +<p>Lime put on his hat and walked up to the window, and, resting his great +bare arms on the sill, and his chin on his arms, said:</p> + +<p>"Merry, I'm goin' to tackle 'Dad' this afternoon. He'll be settin' up +the new seeder, and I'm goin' t' climb right on the back of his neck. +He's jest <em>got</em> t' give me a chance."</p> + +<p>Marietta looked sober in sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Well! P'raps it's best to have it over with, Lime, but someway I feel +kind o' scary about it."</p> + +<p>Lime stood for a long time looking in at the window, watching the +light-footed girl as she set the table in the middle of the sun-lighted +kitchen floor. The kettle hissed, the meat sizzled, sending up a +delicious odor; a hen stood in the open door and sang a sort of cheery +half-human song, while to and fro moved the sweet-faced, lithe and +powerful girl, followed by the smiling eyes at the window.</p> + +<p>"Merry, you look purty as a picture. You look +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> +just like the wife I be'n +a-huntin' for all these years, sure 's shootin'."</p> + +<p>Marietta colored with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Does Dad pay you to stand an' look at me an' say pretty things t' the +cook?"</p> + +<p>"No, he don't. But I'm willin' t' do it without pay. I could jest stand +here till kingdom come an' look at you. Hello! I hear a wagon. I guess I +better hump into that wood-pile."</p> + +<p>"I think so, too. Dinner's most ready, and Dad 'll be here soon."</p> + +<p>Lime was driving away furiously at a tough elm log when Farmer Bacon +drove into the yard with a new seeder in his wagon. Lime whacked away +busily while Bacon stabled the team, and in a short time Marietta +called, in a long-drawn, musical fashion:</p> + +<p>"Dinner-r-r!"</p> + +<p>After sozzling their faces at the well the two men went in and sat down +at the table. Bacon was not much of a talker at any time, and at +mealtime, in seeding, eating was the main business in hand; therefore +the meal was a silent one, Marietta and Lime not caring to talk on +general topics. The hour was an anxious one for her, and an important +one for him.</p> + +<p>"Wal, now, Lime, seedun' 's the nex' thing," said Bacon, as he shoved +back his chair and glared around from under his bushy eyebrows. "We +can't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> +do too much this afternoon. That seeder's got t' be set up an' a +lot o' seed-wheat cleaned up. You unload the machine while I feed the +pigs."</p> + +<p>Lime sat still till the old man was heard outside calling "Oo-ee, +poo-ee" to the pigs in the yard; then he smiled at Marietta, but she +said:</p> + +<p>"He's got on one of his fits, Lime; I don't b'lieve you'd better tackle +him t'-day."</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry; I'll fix him. Come, now, give me a kiss."</p> + +<p>"Why, you great thing! You—took"——</p> + +<p>"I know, but I want you to <em>give</em> 'em to me. Just walk right up to me +an' give me a smack t' bind the bargain."</p> + +<p>"I ain't made any bargain," laughed the girl. Then, feeling the force of +his tender tone, she added: "Will you behave, and go right off to your +work?"</p> + +<p>"Jest like a little man—hope t' die!"</p> + +<p>"<em>Lime!</em>" roared the old man from the barn.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" replied Lime, grinning joyously and winking at the girl, as +much as to say, "This would paralyze the old man if he saw it."</p> + +<p>He went out to the shed where Bacon was at work, as serene as if he had +not a fearful task on hand. He was apprehensive that the father might +"gig back" unless rightly approached, and so he awaited a good +opportunity.</p> + +<p>The right moment seemed to present itself +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> +along about the middle of the +afternoon. Bacon was down on the ground under the machine, tightening +some burrs. This was a good chance for two reasons. In the first place +the keen, almost savage eyes of Bacon were no longer where they could +glare on him, and in spite of his cool exterior Lime had just as soon +not have the old man looking at him.</p> + +<p>Besides, the old farmer had been telling about his "river eighty," which +was without a tenant; the man who had taken it, having lost his wife, +had grown disheartened and had given it up.</p> + +<p>"It's an almighty good chance for a man with a small family. Good house +an' barn, good land. A likely young feller with a team an' a woman could +do tip-top on that eighty. If he wanted more, I'd let him have an eighty +j'inun'"——</p> + +<p>"I'd like t' try that m'self," said Lime, as a feeler. The old fellow +said nothing in reply for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Ef you had a team an' tools an' a woman, I'd jest as lief you'd have it +as anybody."</p> + +<p>"Sell me your blacks, and I'll pay half down—the balance in the fall. I +can pick up some tools, and as for a woman, Merry Etty an' me have +talked that over to-day. She's ready to—ready to marry me whenever you +say go."</p> + +<p>There was an ominous silence under the seeder, as if the father could +not believe his ears.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span> +"What's—what's that?" he stuttered. "Who'd you say? What about Merry +Etty?"</p> + +<p>"She's agreed to marry me."</p> + +<p>"The hell you say!" roared Bacon, as the truth burst upon him. "So +that's what you do when I go off to town and leave you to chop wood. So +you're goun' to git married, hey?"</p> + +<p>He was now where Lime could see him, glaring up into his smiling blue +eyes. Lime stood his ground.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. That's the calculation."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess I'll have somethin' t' say about that," nodding his head +violently.</p> + +<p>"I rather expected y' would. Blaze away. Your privilege—my bad luck. +Sail in, ol' man. What's y'r objection to me fer a son-in-law?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry, young feller. I'll come at it soon enough," went on +Bacon, as he turned up another burr in a very awkward corner. In his +nervous excitement the wrench slipped, banging his knuckle.</p> + +<p>"Ouch! Thunder—m-m-m!" howled and snarled the wounded man.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter? Bark y'r knuckle?" queried Lime, feeling a mighty +impulse to laugh. But when he saw the old savage straighten up and glare +at him he sobered. Bacon was now in a frightful temper. The veins in his +great, bare, weather-beaten neck swelled dangerously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span> +"Jest let me say right here that I've had enough o' you. You can't live +on the same acre with my girl another day."</p> + +<p>"What makes ye think I can't?" It was now the young man's turn to draw +himself up, and as he faced the old man, his arms folded and each vast +hand grasping an elbow, he looked like a statue of red granite, and the +hands resembled the paws of a crouching lion; but his eyes smiled.</p> + +<p>"I don't <em>think</em>, I know ye won't."</p> + +<p>"What's the objection to me?"</p> + +<p>"Objection? Hell! What's the inducement? My hired man, an' not three +shirts to yer back!"</p> + +<p>"That's another; I've got four. Say, old man, did you ever work out for +a living?"</p> + +<p>"That's none o' your business," growled Bacon, a little taken down. +"I've worked, an' scraped, an' got t'gether a little prop'ty here, an' +they ain't no sucker like you goun' to come 'long here, an' live off me, +an' spend my prop'ty after I'm dead. You can jest bet high on that."</p> + +<p>"Who's goin' t' live on ye?"</p> + +<p>"You're aimun' to."</p> + +<p>"I ain't, neither."</p> + +<p>"Yes, y'are. You've loafed on me ever since I hired ye."</p> + +<p> +"That's a"——Lime checked himself for Marietta's sake, +and the enraged father went on:</p> + +<p>"I hired ye t' cut wood, an' you've gone an' +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> +fooled my daughter away +from me. Now you jest figger up what I owe ye, and git out o' here. Ye +can't go too soon t' suit <em>me</em>."</p> + +<p>Bacon was renowned as the hardest man in Cedar County to handle, and +though he was getting old, he was still a terror to his neighbors when +roused. He was honest, temperate, and a good neighbor until something +carried him off his balance; then he became as cruel as a panther and as +savage as a grizzly. All this Lime knew, but it did not keep his anger +down so much as did the thought of Marietta. His silence infuriated +Bacon, who yelled hoarsely:</p> + +<p>"Git out o' this!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be in a rush, ol' man"——</p> + +<p>Bacon hurled himself upon Lime, who threw out one hand and stopped him, +while he said in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Stay right where you are, ol' man. I'm dangerous. It's for Merry's +sake"——</p> + +<p>The infuriated old man struck at him. Lime warded off the blow, and with +a sudden wrench and twist threw him to the ground with frightful force. +Before Bacon could rise, Marietta, who had witnessed the scene, came +flying from the house.</p> + +<p>"Lime! Father! What are you doing?"</p> + +<p>"I—couldn't help it, Merry. It was him 'r me," said Lime, almost +sadly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> +"Dad, ain't you got no sense? What 're you thinking of? You jest stop +right now. I won't have it."</p> + +<p>He rose while she clung to him; he seemed a little dazed. It was the +first time he had ever been thrown, and he could not but feel a certain +respect for his opponent, but he could not give way.</p> + +<p>"Pack up yer duds," he snarled, "an' git off'n my land. I'll have the +money fer ye when ye come back. I'll give ye jest five minutes to git +clear o' here. Merry, you stay here."</p> + +<p>The young man saw it was useless to remain, as it would only excite the +old man; and so, with a look of apology, not without humor, at Marietta, +he went to the house to get his valise. The girl wept silently while the +father raged up and down. His mood frightened her.</p> + +<p>"I thought you had more sense than t' take up with such a dirty houn'."</p> + +<p>"He ain't a houn'," she blazed forth, "and he's just as good and clean +as you are."</p> + +<p>"Shut up! Don't let me hear another word out o' your head. I'm boss here +yet, I reckon."</p> + +<p>Lime came out with his valise in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Merry," he said cheerily. She started to go to him, but her +father's rough grasp held her.</p> + +<p>"Set <em>down</em>, an' stay there."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> +Lime was going out of the gate.</p> + +<p>"Here! Come and get y'r money," yelled the old man, extending some +bills. "Here's twenty"——-</p> + +<p>"Go to thunder with your money," retorted Lime. "I've had my pay for my +month's work." As he said that, he thought of the sunny kitchen and the +merry girl, and his throat choked. Good-by to the sweet girl whose smile +was so much to him, and to the happy noons and nights her eyes had made +for him. He waved his hat at her as he stood in the open gate, and the +sun lighted his handsome head into a sort of glory in her eyes. Then he +turned and walked rapidly off down the road, not looking back.</p> + +<p>The girl, when she could no longer see him, dashed away, and, sobbing +violently, entered the house.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">There</span> +was just a suspicion of light in the east, a mere hint of a glow, +when Lyman walked cautiously around the corner of the house and tapped +at Marietta's window. She was sleeping soundly and did not hear, for she +had been restless during the first part of the night. He tapped again, +and the girl woke without knowing what woke her.</p> + +<p>Lyman put the blade of his pocket-knife under +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> +the window and raised it a little, and then placed his lips to the crack, +and spoke in a sepulchral tone, half groan, half whisper:</p> + +<p>"Merry! Merry Etty!"</p> + +<p>The dazed girl sat up in bed and listened, while her heart almost stood +still.</p> + +<p>"Merry, it's me—Lime. Come to the winder." The girl hesitated, and +Lyman spoke again.</p> + +<p>"Come, I hain't got much time. This is your last chance t' see me. It's +now 'r never."</p> + +<p>The girl slipped out of bed and, wrapping herself in a shawl, crept to +the window.</p> + +<p>"Boost on that winder," commanded Lyman. She raised it enough to admit +his head, which came just above the sill; then she knelt on the floor by +the window.</p> + +<p>Her eyes stared wide and dark.</p> + +<p>"Lime, what in the world do you mean"——</p> + +<p>"I mean business," he replied. "I ain't no last year's chicken; I know +when the old man sleeps the soundest." He chuckled pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"How 'd y' fool old Rove?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind about that now; they's something more important on hand. +You've got t' go with me."</p> + +<p>She drew back. "Oh, Lime, I can't!"</p> + +<p>He thrust a great arm in and caught her by the wrist.</p> + +<p>"Yes, y' can. This is y'r last chance. If I go +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> +off without ye t'-night, I never come back. What make ye gig back? +Are ye 'fraid o' me?"</p> + +<p>"N-no; but—but"——</p> + +<p>"But what, Merry Etty?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't right to go an' leave Dad all alone. Where y' goin' t' take +me, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Milt Jennings let me have his horse an' buggy; they're down the road a +piece, an' we'll go right down to Rock River and be married by sun-up."</p> + +<p>The girl still hesitated, her firm, boyish will unwontedly befogged. +Resolute as she was, she could not at once accede to his demand.</p> + +<p>"Come, make up your mind soon. The old man 'll fill me with buck-shot if +he catches sight o' me." He drew her arm out of the window and laid his +bearded cheek to it. "Come, little one, we're made for each other; God +knows it. Come! It's him 'r me."</p> + +<p>The girl's head dropped, consented.</p> + +<p>"That's right! Now a kiss to bind the bargain. There! What, cryin'? No +more o' that, little one. Now I'll give you jest five minutes to git on +your Sunday-go-t'-meetin' clo'es. Quick, there goes a rooster. It's +gittin' white in the east."</p> + +<p>The man turned his back to the window and gazed at the western sky with +a wealth of unuttered and unutterable exultation in his heart. Far off a +rooster gave a long, clear blast—would it be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> +answered in the barn? +Yes; some wakeful ear had caught it, and now came the answer, but faint, +muffled and drowsy. The dog at his feet whined uneasily as if suspecting +something wrong. The wind from the south was full of the wonderful odor +of springing grass, warm, brown earth, and oozing sap. Overhead, to the +west, the stars were shining in the cloudless sky, dimmed a little in +brightness by the faint silvery veil of moisture in the air. The man's +soul grew very tender as he stood waiting for his bride. He was rough, +illiterate, yet there was something fine about him after all, a kind of +simplicity and a gigantic, leonine tenderness.</p> + +<p>He heard his sweetheart moving about inside, and thought: "The old man +won't hold out when he finds we're married. He can't get along without +her. If he does, why, I'll rent a farm here, and we'll go to work +housekeepin'. I can git the money. She sha'n't always be poor," he +ended, with a vow.</p> + +<p>The window was raised again, and the girl's voice was heard low and +tremulous: </p> + +<p>"Lime, I'm ready, but I wish we didn't"——</p> + +<p>He put his arm around her waist and helped her out, and did not put her +down till they reached the road. She was completely dressed, even to her +hat and shoes, but she mourned:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> +"My hair is every-which-way; Lime, how can I be married so?"</p> + +<p>They were nearing the horse and buggy now, and Lime laughed. "Oh, we'll +stop at Jennings's and fix up. Milt knows what's up, and has told his +mother by this time. So just laugh as jolly as you can."</p> + +<p>Soon they were in the buggy, the impatient horse swung into the road at +a rattling pace, and as Marietta leaned back in the seat, thinking of +what she had done, she cried lamentably, in spite of all the caresses +and pleadings of her lover.</p> + +<p>But the sun burst up from the plain, the prairie-chickens took up their +mighty chorus on the hills, robins met them on the way, flocks of wild +geese, honking cheerily, drove far overhead toward the north, and, with +these sounds of a golden spring day in her ears, the bride grew +cheerful, and laughed.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">At</span> +about the time the sun was rising, Farmer Bacon, roused from his +sleep by the crowing of the chickens on the dry knolls in the fields as +well as by those in the barnyard, rolled out of bed wearily, wondering +why he should feel so drowsy. Then he remembered the row with Lime and +his subsequent inability to sleep with thinking over it. There +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> +was a dull pain in his breast, which made him uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>As was his usual custom, he went out into the kitchen and built the fire +for Marietta, filled the tea-kettle with water, and filled the +water-bucket in the sink. Then he went to her bed-room door and knocked +with his knuckles as he had done for years in precisely the same +fashion.</p> + +<p>Rap—rap—rap. "Hello, Merry! Time t' git up. Broad daylight, +an' birds a-singun'."</p> + +<p>Without waiting for an answer he went out to the barn and worked away at +his chores. He took such delight in the glorious morning and the +turbulent life of the farmyard that his heart grew light and he hummed a +tune which sounded like the merry growl of a lion. "Poo-ee, poo-ee," he +called to the pigs as they swarmed across the yard.</p> + +<p>"Ahrr! you big, fat rascals, them hams o' yourn is clear money. One of +ye shall go t' buy Merry a new dress," he said as he glanced at the +house and saw the smoke pouring out the stove-pipe. "Merry 's a good +girl; she's stood by her old pap when other girls 'u'd 'a' gone back on +'im."</p> + +<p>While currying horses he went all over the ground of the quarrel +yesterday, and he began to see it in a different light. He began to see +that Lyman was a good man and an able man, and that his own course was a +foolish one.</p> + +<p>"When I git mad," he confessed to himself, "I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> +don't know anythin'. But +I won't give her up. She ain't old 'nough t' marry yet—and, besides, I +need her."</p> + +<p>After finishing his chores, as usual, he went to the well and washed his +face and hands, then entered the kitchen—to find the tea-kettle boiling +over, and no signs of breakfast anywhere, and no sign of the girl.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess she felt sleepy this mornin'. Poor gal! Mebbe she cried +half the night."</p> + +<p>"Merry!" he called, gently, at the door. "Merry, m' gal! Pap needs his +breakfast."</p> + +<p>There was no reply, and the old man's face stiffened into a wild +surprise. He knocked heavily again and got no reply, and, with a white +face and shaking hand, he flung the door open and gazed at the empty +bed. His hand dropped to his side; his head turned slowly from the bed +to the open window; he rushed forward and looked out on the ground, +where he saw the tracks of a man.</p> + +<p>He fell heavily into the chair by the bed, while a deep groan broke from +his stiff and twitching lips.</p> + +<p>"She's left me! She's left me!"</p> + +<p>For a long half-hour the iron-muscled old man sat there motionless, +hearing not the songs of the hens or the birds far out in the brilliant +sunshine. He had lost sight of his farm, his day's work, and felt no +hunger for food. He did not doubt that her going +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> +was final. He felt +that she was gone from him forever. If she ever came back it would not +be as his daughter, but as the wife of Gilman. She had deserted him, +fled in the night like a thief; his heart began to harden again, and he +rose stiffly. His native stubbornness began to assert itself, the first +great shock over, and he went out to the kitchen, and prepared, as best +he could, a breakfast, and sat down to it. In some way his appetite +failed him, and he fell to thinking over his past life, of the death of +his wife, and the early death of his only boy. He was still trying to +think what his life would be in the future without his girl, when two +carriages drove into the yard. It was about the middle of the forenoon, +and the prairie-chickens had ceased to boom and squawk; in fact, that +was why he knew that he had been sitting two hours at the table. Before +he could rise he heard swift feet and a merry voice. Then Marietta burst +through the door.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Pap! How you makin' out with break"——She saw a look +on his face that went to her heart like a knife. She saw a lonely and +deserted old man sitting at his cold and cheerless breakfast, and with a +remorseful cry she ran across the floor and took him in her arms, +kissing him again and again, while Mr. John Jennings and his wife stood +in the door.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span> +"Poor ol' Pap! Merry couldn't leave you. She's come back to stay as long +as he lives."</p> + +<p>The old man remained cold and stern. His deep voice had a raucous note +in it as he pushed her away from him, noticing no one else.</p> + +<p>"But how do you come back t' me?"</p> + +<p>The girl grew rosy, but she stood proudly up.</p> + +<p>"I come back a wife of a <em>man</em>, Pap; a wife like my mother, an' this t' +hang beside hers;" and she laid down a rolled piece of parchment.</p> + +<p>"Take it an' go," growled he; "take yer lazy lubber an' git out o' my +sight. I raised ye, took keer o' ye when ye was little, sent ye t' +school, bought ye dresses,—done everythin' for ye I could, 'lowin' t' +have ye stand by me when I got old,—but no, ye must go back on yer ol' +pap, an' go off in the night with a good-f'r-nothin' houn' that nobuddy +knows anything about—a feller that never done a thing fer ye in the +world"——</p> + +<p>"What did you do for mother that she left <em>her</em> father and mother and +went with you? How much did you have when you took her away from her +good home an' brought her away out here among the wolves an' Indians? +I've heard you an' her say a hundred times that you didn't have a chair +in the house. Now, why do you talk so t' me when I want t' git—when +Lime comes and asks for me?"</p> + +<p>The old man was staggered. He looked at the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> +smiling face of John +Jennings and the tearful face of Mrs. Jennings, who had returned with +Lyman. But his face hardened again as he caught sight of Lime looking in +at him. His absurd pride would not let him relent. Lime saw it, and +stepped forward.</p> + +<p>"Ol' man, I want t' take a little inning now. I'm a fair, square man. I +asked ye fer Merry as a man should. I told you I'd had hard luck, when I +first came here. I had five thousand dollars in clean cash stole from +me. I hain't got a thing now except credit, but that's good fer enough +t' stock a little farm with. Now, I wan' to be fair and square in this +thing. You wan' to rent a farm; I need one. Let me have the river +eighty, or I'll take the whole business on a share of a third an' Merry +Etty, and I to stay here with you jest as if nothin' 'd happened. Come, +now, what d' y' say?"</p> + +<p>There was something winning in the whole bearing of the man as he stood +before the father, who remained silent and grim.</p> + +<p>"Or if you don't do that, why, there's nothin' left fer Merry an' me but +to go back to La Crosse, where I can have my choice of a dozen farms. +Now this is the way things is standin'. I don't want to be underhanded +about this thing"——</p> + +<p>"That's a fair offer," said Mr. Jennings in the pause which followed. +"You'd better do it, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> +neighbor Bacon. Nobuddy need know how things +stood; they were married in my house—I thought that 'u'd be best. You +can't live without your girl," he went on, "any more 'n I could without +my boy. You'd better"——</p> + +<p>The figure at the table straightened up. Under his tufted eyebrows his +keen gray eyes flashed from one to the other. His hands knotted.</p> + +<p>"Go slow!" went on the smooth voice of Jennings, known all the country +through as a peace-maker. "Take time t' think it over. Stand out, an' +you'll live here alone without chick 'r child; give in, and this house +'ll bubble over with noise and young ones. Now is short, and forever's a +long time to feel sorry in."</p> + +<p>The old man at the table knitted his eyebrows, and a distorted, +quivering, ghastly smile broke out on his face. His chest heaved; then +he burst forth:</p> + +<p>"Gal, yank them gloves off, an' git me something to eat—breakfus 'r +dinner, I don't care which. Lime, you infernal idiot, git out there and +gear up them horses. What in thunder you foolun' around about hyere in +seed'n'? Come, hustle, all o' ye!"</p> + +<p>And then they shouted in laughter, while the cause of it all strode +unsteadily but resolutely out toward the barn, followed by the +bridegroom, who was laughing—silently.</p> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div class="chapter-intro"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> +<a name="Part_IV." id="Part_IV."></a><br /><br /></p> +<h2><a href="#Contents">Part IV.</a></h2> +<p class="chapter-title" style="font-size:160%">SIM BURNS'S WIFE: +<span style="font-size:90%">A PRAIRIE HEROINE.</span></p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" /></div> +<table summary="poem"><tr><td> +<p><i>A tale of toil that's never done I tell;<br /> +Of life where love's a fleeting wing<br /> +Above the woman's hopeless hell<br /> +Of ceaseless, year-round journeying.</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" /></div> +<hr class="major" /> + +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> +<h2>SIM BURNS'S WIFE.</h2> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf separating chapter header from text]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf separating chapter header from text]" /></div> + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">Lucretia Burns</span> +had never been handsome, even in her days of early +girlhood, and now she was middle-aged, distorted with work and +child-bearing, and looking faded and worn as one of the boulders that +lay beside the pasture fence near where she sat milking a large white +cow.</p> + +<p>She had no shawl or hat and no shoes, for it was still muddy in the +little yard, where the cattle stood patiently fighting the flies and +mosquitoes swarming into their skins, already wet with blood. The +evening was oppressive with its heat, and a ring of just-seen +thunder-heads gave premonitions of an approaching storm.</p> + +<p>She rose from the cow's side at last, and, taking her pails of foaming +milk, staggered toward the gate. The two pails hung from her lean arms, +her bare feet slipped on the filthy ground, her greasy and faded calico +dress showed her tired, swollen ankles, and the mosquitoes swarmed +mercilessly on her neck and bedded themselves in her colorless hair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> +The children were quarreling at the well, and the sound of blows could +be heard. Calves were querulously calling for their milk, and little +turkeys, lost in a tangle of grass, were piping plaintively.</p> + +<p>The sun just setting struck through a long, low rift like a boy peeping +beneath the eaves of a huge roof. Its light brought out Lucretia's face +as she leaned her sallow forehead on the top bar of the gate and looked +toward the west.</p> + +<p>It was a pitifully worn, almost tragic face—long, thin, sallow, +hollow-eyed. The mouth had long since lost the power to shape itself +into a kiss, and had a droop at the corners which seemed to announce a +breaking-down at any moment into a despairing wail. The collarless neck +and sharp shoulders showed painfully.</p> + +<p>She felt vaguely that the night was beautiful. The setting sun, the +noise of frogs, the nocturnal insects beginning to pipe—all in some way +called her girlhood back to her, though there was little in her girlhood +to give her pleasure. Her large gray eyes grew round, deep and wistful +as she saw the illimitable craggy clouds grow crimson, roll slowly up, +and fire at the top. A childish scream recalled her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my soul!" she half groaned, half swore, as she lifted her milk and +hurried to the well. Arriving there, she cuffed the children right and +left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> +with all her remaining strength, saying in justification:</p> + +<p>"My soul! can't you—you young 'uns give me a minute's peace? Land +knows, I'm almost gone up; washin', an' milkin' six cows, and tendin' +you, and cookin' f'r <em>him</em>, ought 'o be enough f'r one day! Sadie, you +let him drink now 'r I'll slap your head off, you hateful thing! Why +can't you behave, when you know I'm jest about dead?" She was weeping +now, with nervous weakness. "Where's y'r pa?" she asked after a moment, +wiping her eyes with her apron.</p> + +<p>One of the group, the one cuffed last, sniffed out, in rage and grief:</p> + +<p>"He's in the cornfield; where'd ye s'pose he was?"</p> + +<p>"Good land! why don't the man work all night? Sile, you put that dipper +in that milk agin, an' I'll whack you till your head'll swim! Sadie, le' +go Pet, an' go 'n get them turkeys out of the grass 'fore it gits dark! +Bob, you go tell y'r dad if he wants the rest o' them cows milked he's +got 'o do it himself. I jest can't, and what's more, I <em>won't</em>," she +ended, rebelliously.</p> + +<p>Having strained the milk and fed the children, she took some skimmed +milk from the cans and started to feed the calves bawling strenuously +behind the barn. The eager and unruly brutes pushed and struggled to get +into the pails all at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> +once, and in consequence spilt nearly all of the +milk on the ground. This was the last trial; the woman fell down on the +damp grass and moaned and sobbed like a crazed thing. The children came +to seek her and stood around like little partridges, looking at her in +scared silence, till at last the little one began to wail. Then the +mother rose wearily to her feet, and walked slowly back toward the +house.</p> + +<p>She heard Burns threshing his team at the well, with the sound of oaths. +He was tired, hungry and ill-tempered, but she was too desperate to +care. His poor, overworked team did not move quickly enough for him, and +his extra long turn in the corn had made him dangerous. His eyes gleamed +wrathfully from his dust-laid face.</p> + +<p>"Supper ready?" he growled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, two hours ago."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't help it!" he said, understanding her reproach. "That +devilish corn is gettin' too tall to plow again, and I've got 'o go +through it to-morrow or not at all. Cows milked?"</p> + +<p>"Part of 'em."</p> + +<p>"How many left?"</p> + +<p>"Three."</p> + +<p>"Hell! Which three?"</p> + +<p>"Spot, and Brin, and Cherry."</p> + +<p>"<em>Of</em> course, left the three worst ones. I'll be damned if I milk a cow +to-night. I don't see why +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> +you play out jest the nights I need ye most." +Here he kicked a child out of the way. "Git out o' that! Hain't you got +no sense? I'll learn ye"——</p> + +<p>"Stop that, Sim Burns," cried the woman, snatching up the child. "You're +a reg'lar ol' hyeny,—that's what you are," she added defiantly, roused +at last from her lethargy.</p> + +<p> +"You're a—beauty, that's what <em>you</em> are," he said, pitilessly. +"Keep your brats out f'um under my feet." And he strode off to a barn after +his team, leaving her with a fierce hate in her heart. She heard him +yelling at his team in their stalls: "Git around there, damn yeh."</p> + +<p>The children had had their supper; so she took them to bed. She was +unusually tender to them, for she wanted to make up in some way for her +previous harshness. The ferocity of her husband had shown up her own +petulant temper hideously, and she sat and sobbed in the darkness a long +time beside the cradle where little Pet slept.</p> + +<p>She heard Burns come growling in and tramp about, but she did not rise. +The supper was on the table; he could wait on himself. There was an +awful feeling at her heart as she sat there and the house grew quiet. +She thought of suicide in a vague way; of somehow taking her children in +her arms and sinking into a lake somewhere, where she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> +would never more +be troubled, where she could sleep forever, without toil or hunger.</p> + +<p>Then she thought of the little turkeys wandering in the grass, of the +children sleeping at last, of the quiet, wonderful stars. Then she +thought of the cows left unmilked, and listened to them stirring +uneasily in the yard. She rose, at last, and stole forth. She could not +rid herself of the thought that they would suffer. She knew what the +dull ache in the full breasts of a mother was, and she could not let +them stand at the bars all night moaning for relief.</p> + +<p>The mosquitoes had gone, but the frogs and katydids still sang, while +over in the west Venus shone. She was a long time milking the cows; her +hands were so tired she had often to stop and rest them, while the tears +fell unheeded into the pail. She saw and felt little of the external as +she sat there. She thought in vague retrospect of how sweet it seemed +the first time Sim came to see her; of the many rides to town with him +when he was an accepted lover; of the few things he had given her—a +coral breastpin and a ring.</p> + +<p>She felt no shame at her present miserable appearance; she was past +personal pride. She hardly felt as if the tall, strong girl, attractive +with health and hope, could be the same soul as the woman who now sat in +utter despair listening +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> +to the heavy breathing of the happy cows, +grateful for the relief from their burden of milk.</p> + +<p>She contrasted her lot with that of two or three women that she knew +(not a very high standard), who kept hired help, and who had fine houses +of four or five rooms. Even the neighbors were better off than she, for +they didn't have such quarrels. But she wasn't to blame—Sim didn't—— +Then her mind changed to a dull resentment against "things." Everything +seemed against her.</p> + +<p>She rose at last and carried her second load of milk to the well, +strained it, washed out the pails, and, after bathing her tired feet in +a tub that stood there, she put on a pair of horrible shoes, without +stockings, and crept stealthily into the house. Sim did not hear her as +she slipped up the stairs to the little low, unfinished chamber beside +her oldest children. She could not bear to sleep near <em>him</em> that +night,—she wanted a chance to sob herself to quiet.</p> + +<p>As for Sim, he was a little disturbed, but would as soon have cut off +his head as acknowledge himself in the wrong. As he went to bed, and +found her still away, he yelled up the stairway:</p> + +<p>"Say, o' woman, ain't ye comin' to bed?" Upon receiving no answer he +rolled his aching body into the creaking bed. "Do as y' damn please +about it. If y' want to sulk y' can." And in such wise the family grew +quiet in sleep, while the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> +moist, warm air pulsed with the ceaseless chime of the crickets.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">When</span> +Sim Burns woke the next morning he felt a sharper twinge of +remorse. It was not a broad or well-defined feeling—just a sense that +he had been unduly irritable, not that on the whole he was not in the +right. Little Pet lay with the warm June sunshine filling his baby eyes, +curiously content in striking at flies that buzzed around his little +mouth.</p> + +<p>The man thrust his dirty, naked feet into his huge boots, and, without +washing his face or combing his hair, went out to the barn to do his +chores.</p> + +<p>He was a type of the average prairie farmer, and his whole surrounding +was typical of the time. He had a quarter-section of fine level land, +bought with incredible toil, but his house was a little box-like +structure, costing, perhaps, five hundred dollars. It had three rooms +and the ever-present summer kitchen attached to the back. It was +unpainted and had no touch of beauty—a mere box.</p> + +<p>His stable was built of slabs and banked and covered with straw. It +looked like a den, was low and long, and had but one door in the end. +The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> +cow-yard held ten or fifteen cattle of various kinds, while a few +calves were bawling from a pen near by. Behind the barn, on the west and +north, was a fringe of willows forming a "wind-break." A few broken and +discouraged fruit trees standing here and there among the weeds formed +the garden. In short, he was spoken of by his neighbors as "a +hard-working cuss, and tol'ably well fixed."</p> + +<p>No grace had come or ever could come into his life. Back of him were +generations of men like himself, whose main business had been to work +hard, live miserably, and beget children to take their places when they +died.</p> + +<p>His courtship had been delayed so long on account of poverty that it +brought little of humanizing emotion into his life. He never mentioned +his love-life now, or if he did, it was only to sneer obscenely at it. +He had long since ceased to kiss his wife or even speak kindly to her. +There was no longer any sanctity to life or love. He chewed tobacco and +toiled on from year to year without any very clearly defined idea of the +future. His life was mainly regulated from without.</p> + +<p>He was tall, dark and strong, in a flat-chested, slouching sort of way, +and had grown neglectful of even decency in his dress. He wore the +American farmer's customary outfit of rough brown pants, hickory shirt +and greasy wool hat. It differed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> +from his neighbors' mainly in being a +little dirtier and more ragged. His grimy hands were broad and strong as +the clutch of a bear, and he was a "terrible feller to turn off work," +as Councill said. "I 'druther have Sim Burns work for me one day than +some men three. He's a linger." He worked with unusual speed this +morning, and ended by milking all the cows himself as a sort of savage +penance for his misdeeds the previous evening, muttering in +self-defense:</p> + +<p> +"Seems 's if ever' cussid thing piles on to me at once. That corn, the +road-tax, and hayin' comin' on, and now <em>she</em> gits her back +up"——</p> + +<p>When he went back to the well he sloshed himself thoroughly in the +horse-trough and went to the house. He found breakfast ready, but his +wife was not in sight. The older children were clamoring around the +uninviting breakfast table, spread with cheap ware and with boiled +potatoes and fried salt pork as the principal dishes.</p> + +<p>"Where's y'r ma?" he asked, with a threatening note in his voice, as he +sat down by the table.</p> + +<p>"She's in the bed-room."</p> + +<p>He rose and pushed open the door. The mother sat with the babe in her +lap, looking out of the window down across the superb field of timothy, +moving like a lake of purple water. She did not look around. She only +grew rigid. Her thin neck throbbed with the pulsing of blood to her +head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> +"What's got into you <em>now</em>?" he said, brutally. "Don't be a fool. Come +out and eat breakfast with me, an' take care o' y'r young ones."</p> + +<p>She neither moved nor made a sound. With an oath he turned on his heel +and went out to the table. Eating his breakfast in his usual wolfish +fashion, he went out into the hot sun with his team and riding-plow, not +a little disturbed by this new phase of his wife's "cantankerousness." +He plowed steadily and sullenly all the forenoon, in the terrific heat +and dust. The air was full of tempestuous threats, still and sultry, one +of those days when work is a punishment. When he came in at noon he +found things the same—dinner on the table, but his wife out in the +garden with the youngest child.</p> + +<p>"I c'n stand it as long as <em>she</em> can," he said to himself, in the +hearing of the children, as he pushed back from the table and went back +to work.</p> + +<p>When he had finished the field of corn it was after sundown, and he came +up to the house, hot, dusty, his shirt wringing wet with sweat, and his +neck aching with the work of looking down all day at the corn-rows. His +mood was still stern. The multitudinous lift, and stir, and sheen of the +wide, green field had been lost upon him.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if she's milked them cows," he muttered to himself. He gave a +sigh of relief to find +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> +she had. But she had done so not for his sake, +but for the sake of the poor, patient dumb brutes.</p> + +<p>When he went to the bed-room after supper, he found that the cradle and +his wife's few little boxes and parcels—poor, pathetic properties!—had +been removed to the garret, which they called a chamber, and he knew he +was to sleep alone again.</p> + +<p>"She'll git over it, I guess." He was very tired, but he didn't feel +quite comfortable enough to sleep. The air was oppressive. His shirt, +wet in places, and stiff with dust in other places, oppressed him more +than usual; so he rose and removed it, getting a clean one out of a +drawer. This was an unusual thing for him, for he usually slept in the +same shirt which he wore in his day's work; but it was Saturday night, +and he felt justified in the extravagance.</p> + +<hr class="break" /> + +<p>In the meanwhile poor Lucretia was brooding over her life in a most +dangerous fashion. All she had done and suffered for Simeon Burns came +back to her till she wondered how she had endured it all. All day long +in the midst of the glorious summer landscape she brooded.</p> + +<p>"I hate him," she thought, with a fierce blazing up through the murk of +her musing. "I hate t' live. But they ain't no hope. I'm tied down. I +can't leave the children, and I ain't got no money. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> +I couldn't make a living out in the world. I ain't never seen anything +an' don't know anything."</p> + +<p>She was too simple and too unknowing to speculate on the loss of her +beauty, which would have brought her competency once—if sold in the +right market. As she lay in her little attic bed, she was still sullenly +thinking, wearily thinking of her life. She thought of a poor old horse +which Sim had bought once, years before, and put to the plough when it +was too old and weak to work. She could see her again as in a vision, +that poor old mare, with sad head drooping, toiling, toiling, till at +last she could no longer move, and lying down under the harness in the +furrow, groaned under the whip—and died.</p> + +<p>Then she wondered if her own numbness and despair meant death, and she +held her breath to think harder upon it. She concluded at last, grimly, +that she didn't care—only for the children.</p> + +<p>The air was frightfully close in the little attic, and she heard the low +mutter of the rising storm in the west. She forgot her troubles a +little, listening to the far-off gigantic footsteps of the tempest.</p> + +<p><i>Boom, boom, boom</i>, it broke nearer and nearer, as if a vast cordon of +cannon was being drawn around the horizon. Yet she was conscious only of +pleasure. She had no fear. At last came the sweep of cool, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> fragrant +storm-wind, a short and sudden dash of rain, and then, in the cool, +sweet hush which followed, the worn and weary woman fell into a deep +sleep.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">When</span> +she woke the younger children were playing about on the floor in +their night-clothes, and little Pet was sitting in a square of sunshine, +intent on one of his shoes. He was too young to know how poor and +squalid his surroundings were—the patch of sunshine flung on the floor +glorified it all. He—little animal—was happy.</p> + +<p>The poor of the Western prairies lie almost as unhealthily close +together as do the poor of the city tenements. In the small hut of the +peasant there is as little chance to escape close and tainting contact +as in the coops and dens of the North End of proud Boston. In the midst +of oceans of land, floods of sunshine and gulfs of verdure, the farmer +lives in two or three small rooms. Poverty's eternal cordon is ever +round the poor.</p> + +<p>"Ma, why didn't you sleep with Pap last night?" asked Bob, the +seven-year-old, when he saw she was awake at last. She flushed a dull +red.</p> + +<p> +"You hush, will yeh? Because—I—it was too warm—and +there was a storm comin'. You never mind askin' such questions. Is +he gone out?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> +"Yup. I heerd him callin' the pigs. It's Sunday, ain't it, ma?"</p> + +<p>The fact seemed to startle her.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, so it is! Wal! Now, Sadie, you jump up an' dress quick 's +y' can, an' Bob an' Sile, you run down an' bring s'm' water," she +commanded, in nervous haste, beginning to dress. In the middle of the +room there was scarce space to stand beneath the rafters.</p> + +<p>When Sim came in for his breakfast he found it on the table, but his +wife was absent.</p> + +<p>"Where's y'r ma?" he asked, with a little less of the growl in his +voice.</p> + +<p>"She's upstairs with Pet."</p> + +<p>The man ate his breakfast in dead silence, till at last Bob ventured to +say:</p> + +<p>"What makes ma ac' so?"</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" was the brutal reply. The children began to take sides with +the mother—all but the oldest girl, who was ten years old. To her the +father turned now for certain things to be done, treating her in his +rough fashion as a housekeeper, and the girl felt flattered and docile +accordingly.</p> + +<p>They were pitiably clad; like many farm-children, indeed, they could +hardly be said to be clad at all. Sadie had on but two garments, a sort +of undershirt of cotton and a faded calico dress, out of which her bare, +yellow little legs protruded, lamentably dirty and covered with +scratches.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> +The boys also had two garments, a hickory shirt and a pair of pants like +their father's, made out of brown denims by the mother's never-resting +hands—hands that in sleep still sewed, and skimmed, and baked, and +churned. The boys had gone to bed without washing their feet, which now +looked like toads, calloused, brown, and chapped.</p> + +<p>Part of this the mother saw with her dull eyes as she came down, after +seeing the departure of Sim up the road with the cows. It was a +beautiful Sunday morning, and the woman might have sung like a bird if +men had been as kind to her as Nature. But she looked dully out upon the +seas of ripe grasses, tangled and flashing with dew, out of which the +bobolinks and larks sprang. The glorious winds brought her no melody, no +perfume, no respite from toil and care.</p> + +<p>She thought of the children she saw in the town,—children of the +merchant and banker, clean as little dolls, the boys in knickerbocker +suits, the girls in dainty white dresses,—and a vengeful bitterness +sprang up in her heart. She soon put the dishes away, but felt too tired +and listless to do more.</p> + +<p>"Taw-bay-wies! Pet want ta-aw-bay-wies!" cried the little one, tugging +at her dress.</p> + +<p>Listlessly, mechanically she took him in her arms, and went out into the +garden, which was fragrant and sweet with dew and sun. After picking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> +some berries for him, she sat down on the grass under the row of +cottonwoods, and sank into a kind of lethargy. A kingbird chattered and +shrieked overhead, the grasshoppers buzzed in the grasses, strange +insects with ventriloquistic voices sang all about her—she could not +tell where.</p> + +<p>"Ma, can't I put on my clean dress?" insisted Sadie.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," said the brooding woman, darkly. "Leave me alone."</p> + +<p>Oh, if she could only lie here forever, escaping all pain and weariness! +The wind sang in her ears; the great clouds, beautiful as heavenly +ships, floated far above in the vast, dazzling deeps of blue sky; the +birds rustled and chirped around her; leaping insects buzzed and +clattered in the grass and in the vines and bushes. The goodness and +glory of God was in the very air, the bitterness and oppression of man +in every line of her face.</p> + +<p>But her quiet was broken by Sadie, who came leaping like a fawn down +through the grass.</p> + +<p>"O ma, Aunt Maria and Uncle William are coming. They've jest turned in."</p> + +<p>"I don't care if they be!" she answered in the same dully-irritated way. +"What're they comin' here to-day for, I wan' to know." She stayed there +immovably, till Mrs. Councill came down to see her, piloted by two or +three of the children. Mrs. Councill, a jolly, large-framed woman, +smiled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> +brightly, and greeted her in a loud, jovial voice. She made the +mistake of taking the whole matter lightly; her tone amounted to +ridicule.</p> + +<p>"Sim says you've been having a tantrum, Creeshy. Don't know what for, he +says."</p> + +<p>"He don't," said the wife, with a sullen flash in her eyes. +"<em>He</em> don't know why! Well, then, you just tell him what I say. +I've lived in hell long enough. I'm done. I've slaved here day in and +day out f'r twelve years without pay—not even a decent word. +I've worked like no nigger ever worked 'r could work and live. I've +given him all I had, 'r ever expect to have. I'm wore out. My strength +is gone, my patience is gone. I'm done with it—that's a <em>part</em> +of what's the matter."</p> + +<p>"My sakes, Lucreeshy! You mustn't talk that way."</p> + +<p>"But I <em>will</em>," said the woman, as she supported herself on one palm and +raised the other. "I've <em>got</em> to talk that way." She was ripe for an +explosion like this. She seized upon it with eagerness. "They ain't no +use o' livin' this way, anyway. I'd take poison if it wa'n't f'r the +young ones."</p> + +<p>"Lucreeshy Burns!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I mean it."</p> + +<p>"Land sakes alive, I b'lieve you're goin' crazy!"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if I was. I've had enough t' drive an Indian crazy. +Now you jest go off an' leave me 'lone. I ain't no mind to visit—they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> +ain't no way out of it, an' I'm tired o' tryin' to <em>find</em> a way. Go off +an' let me be."</p> + +<p>Her tone was so bitterly hopeless that the great, jolly face of Mrs. +Councill stiffened into a look of horror such as she had not known for +years. The children, in two separate groups, could be heard rioting. +Bees were humming around the clover in the grass, and the kingbird +chattered ceaselessly from the Lombardy poplar tip. Both women felt all +this peace and beauty of the morning dimly, and it disturbed Mrs. +Councill because the other was so impassive under it all. At last, after +a long and thoughtful pause, Mrs. Councill asked a question whose answer +she knew would decide it all—asked it very kindly and softly:</p> + +<p>"Creeshy, are you comin' in?"</p> + +<p>"No," was the short and sullenly decisive answer. Mrs. Councill knew +that was the end, and so rose, with a sigh, and went away.</p> + +<p>"Wal, good-by," she said, simply.</p> + +<p>Looking back, she saw Lucretia lying at length, with closed eyes and +hollow cheeks. She seemed to be sleeping, half-buried in the grass. She +did not look up nor reply to her sister-in-law, whose life was one of +toil and trouble, also, but not so hard and helpless as Lucretia's. By +contrast with most of her neighbors, she seemed comfortable.</p> + +<p>"Sim Burns, what you ben doin' to that woman?" she burst out, as she +waddled up to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> +where the two men were sitting under a cottonwood tree, +talking and whittling after the manner of farmers.</p> + +<p>"Nawthin' 's fur 's I know," answered Burns, not quite honestly, and +looking uneasy.</p> + +<p>"You needn't try t' git out of it like that, Sim Burns," replied his +sister. "That woman never got into that fit f'r <em>nawthin</em>'."</p> + +<p>"Wall, if you know more about it than I do, whadgy ask <em>me</em> fur?" he +replied, angrily.</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut!" put in Councill, "hold y'r horses! Don't git on y'r ear, +children! Keep cool, and don't spile y'r shirts. Most likely you're all +t' blame. Keep cool an' swear less."</p> + +<p>"Wal, I'll bet Sim's more to blame than she is. Why, they ain't a +harder-workin' woman in the hull State of Ioway than she is"——</p> + +<p>"Except Marm Councill."</p> + +<p>"Except nobody. Look at her, jest skin and bones."</p> + +<p>Councill chuckled in his vast way. "That's so, mother; measured in that +way, she leads over you. You git fat on it."</p> + +<p>She smiled a little, her indignation oozing away. She never "<em>could</em> +stay mad," her children were accustomed to tell her. Burns refused to +talk any more about the matter, and the visitors gave it up, and got out +their team and started for home, Mrs. Councill firing this parting +shot:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> +"The best thing you can do to-day is t' let her alone. Mebbe the +children 'll bring her round ag'in. If she does come round, you see 't +you treat her a little more 's y' did when you was a-courtin' her."</p> + +<p>"This way," roared Councill, putting his arm around his wife's waist. +She boxed his ears, while he guffawed and clucked at his team.</p> + +<p>Burns took a measure of salt and went out into the pasture to salt the +cows. On the sunlit slope of the field, where the cattle came running +and bawling to meet him, he threw down the salt in handfuls, and then +lay down to watch them as they eagerly licked it up, even gnawing a bare +spot in the sod in their eagerness to get it all.</p> + +<p>Burns was not a drinking man; he was hard-working, frugal; in fact, he +had no extravagances except his tobacco. His clothes he wore until they +all but dropped from him; and he worked in rain and mud, as well as dust +and sun. It was this suffering and toiling all to no purpose that made +him sour and irritable. He didn't see why he should have so little after +so much hard work.</p> + +<p>He was puzzled to account for it all. His mind—the average mind—was +weary with trying to solve an insoluble problem. His neighbors, who had +got along a little better than himself, were free with advice and +suggestion as to the cause of his persistent poverty. +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> +Old man Bacon, the hardest-working man in the county, laid it to Burns's +lack of management. Jim Butler, who owned a dozen farms (which he had +taken on mortgages), and who had got rich by buying land at government +price and holding for a rise, laid all such cases as Burns's to "lack of +enterprise, foresight."</p> + +<p>But the larger number, feeling themselves in the same boat with Burns, +said:</p> + +<p>"I d' know. Seems as if things get worse an' worse. Corn an' wheat +gittin' cheaper 'n' cheaper. Machinery eatin' up profits—got to +<em>have</em> machinery to harvest the cheap grain, an' then the +machinery eats up profits. Taxes goin' up. Devil to pay all round; +I d' know what in thunder <em>is</em> the matter."</p> + +<p>The Democrats said protection was killing the farmers; the Republicans +said no. The Grangers growled about the middle-men; the Greenbackers +said there wasn't circulating medium enough, and, in the midst of it +all, hard-working, discouraged farmers, like Simeon Burns, worked on, +unable to find out what really was the matter.</p> + +<p>And there, on this beautiful Sabbath morning, Sim sat and thought and +thought, till he rose with an oath and gave it up.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span></p> +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">It</span> +was hot and brilliant again the next morning as Douglass Radbourn +drove up the road with Lily Graham, the teacher of the school in the +little white school-house. It was blazing hot, even though not yet nine +o'clock, and the young farmers plowing beside the fence looked longingly +and somewhat bitterly at Radbourn seated in a fine top-buggy beside a +beautiful creature in lace and cambric.</p> + +<p>Very beautiful the town-bred "school-ma'am" looked to those grimy, +sweaty fellows, superb fellows, too, physically, with bare red arms and +leather-colored faces. She was as if builded of the pink and white +clouds soaring far up there in the morning sky. So cool, and sweet, and +dainty.</p> + +<p>As she came in sight, their dusty and sweaty shirts grew biting as the +poisoned shirt of the Norse myth, their bare feet in the brown dirt grew +distressingly flat and hoof-like, and their huge, dirty, brown, chapped +and swollen hands grew so repulsive that the mere remote possibility of +some time in the far future standing a chance of having an introduction +to her caused them to wipe their palms on their trousers' legs +stealthily.</p> + +<p>Lycurgus Banks swore when he saw Radbourn. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> +"That cuss thinks he's ol' +hell this morning. He don't earn his living. But he's just the kind of +cuss to get holt of all the purty girls."</p> + +<p>Others gazed with simple, sad wistfulness upon the slender figure, pale, +sweet face, and dark eyes of the young girl, feeling that to have talk +with such a fairy-like creature was a happiness too great to ever be +their lot. And when she had passed they went back to work with a sigh +and feeling of loss.</p> + +<p>As for Lily, she felt a pang of pity for these people. She looked at +this peculiar form of poverty and hardship much as the fragile, tender +girl of the city looks upon the men laying a gas-main in the streets. +She felt, sympathetically, the heat and grime, and, though but the +faintest idea of what it meant to wear such clothing came to her, she +shuddered. Her eyes had been opened to these things by Radbourn, a +class-mate at the Seminary.</p> + +<p>The young fellow knew that Lily was in love with him, and he made +distinct effort to keep the talk upon impersonal subjects. He liked her +very much, probably because she listened so well.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellows," sighed Lily, almost unconsciously. "I hate to see them +working there in the dirt and hot sun. It seems a hopeless sort of life, +doesn't it?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> +"Oh, but this is the most beautiful part of the year," said Radbourn. +"Think of them in the mud, in the sleet; think of them husking corn in +the snow, a bitter wind blowing; think of them a month later in the +harvest; think of them imprisoned here in winter!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's dreadful! But I never felt it so keenly before. You have +opened my eyes to it. Of course, I've been on a farm, but not to live +there."</p> + +<p>"Writers and orators have lied so long about 'the idyllic' in farm life, +and said so much about the 'independent American farmer,' that he +himself has remained blind to the fact that he's one of the +hardest-working and poorest-paid men in America. See the houses they +live in—hovels."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know," said Lily; a look of deeper pain swept over her +face. "And the fate of the poor women; oh, the fate of the women!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's a matter of statistics," went on Radbourn, pitilessly, "that +the wives of the American farmers fill our insane asylums. See what a +life they lead, most of them; no music, no books. Seventeen hours a day +in a couple of small rooms—dens. Now, there is Sim Burns! What a +travesty of a home! Yet there are a dozen just as bad in sight. He works +like a fiend—so does his wife—and what is their reward? Simply +a hole to hibernate in and to sleep and eat in in summer. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> +A dreary present and +a well-nigh hopeless future. No, they have a future, if they knew it, +and we must tell them."</p> + +<p>"I know Mrs. Burns," Lily said, after a pause; "she sends several +children to my school. Poor, pathetic little things, half-clad and +wistful-eyed. They make my heart ache; they are so hungry for love, and +so quick to learn."</p> + +<p>As they passed the Burns farm, they looked for the wife, but she was not +to be seen. The children had evidently gone up to the little white +school-house at the head of the lane. Radbourn let the reins fall slack +as he talked on. He did not look at the girl; his eyebrows were drawn +into a look of gloomy pain.</p> + +<p>"It ain't so much the grime that I abhor, nor the labor that crooks +their backs and makes their hands bludgeons. It's the horrible waste of +life involved in it all. I don't believe God intended a man to be bent +to plow-handles like that, but that ain't the worst of it. The worst of +it is, these people live lives approaching automata. They become +machines to serve others more lucky or more unscrupulous than +themselves. What is the world of art, of music, of literature, to these +poor devils—to Sim Burns and his wife there, for example? Or even to +the best of these farmers?"</p> + +<p>The girl looked away over the shimmering lake +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> +of yellow-green corn. A choking came into her throat. Her gloved hand +trembled.</p> + +<p>"What is such a life worth? It's all very comfortable for us to say, +'They don't feel it.' How do we know what they feel? What do we know of +their capacity for enjoyment of art and music? They never have leisure +or opportunity. The master is very glad to be taught by preacher, and +lawyer, and novelist, that his slaves are contented and never feel any +longings for a higher life. These people live lives but little higher +than their cattle—are <em>forced</em> to live so. Their hopes and +aspirations are crushed out, their souls are twisted and deformed just +as toil twists and deforms their bodies. They are on the same level as +the city laborer. The very religion they hear is a soporific. They are +taught to be content here that they may be happy hereafter. Suppose +there isn't any hereafter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't say that, please!" Lily cried.</p> + +<p> +"But I don't <em>know</em> that there is," he went on remorselessly, "and I do +know that these people are being robbed of something more than money, of +all that makes life worth living. The promise of milk and honey in +Canaan is all very well, but I prefer to have mine here; then I'm sure +of it."</p> + +<p>"What can we do?" murmured the girl.</p> + +<p>"Do? Rouse these people for one thing; preach <em>discontent</em>, a noble +discontent."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> +"It will only make them unhappy."</p> + +<p>"No, it won't; not if you show them the way out. If it does, it's better +to be unhappy striving for higher things, like a man, than to be content +in a wallow like swine."</p> + +<p>"But what <em>is</em> the way out?"</p> + +<p>This was sufficient to set Radbourn upon his hobby-horse. He outlined +his plan of action—the abolition of all indirect taxes; the State +control of all privileges the private ownership of which interfered with +the equal rights of all. He would utterly destroy speculative holdings +of the earth. He would have land everywhere brought to its best use, by +appropriating all ground rents to the use of the State, etc., etc., to +which the girl listened with eager interest, but with only partial +comprehension.</p> + +<p>As they neared the little school-house, a swarm of midgets in pink +dresses, pink sun-bonnets, and brown legs, came rushing to meet their +teacher, with that peculiar devotion the children in the country develop +for a refined teacher.</p> + +<p>Radbourn helped Lily out into the midst of the eager little scholars, +who swarmed upon her like bees on a lump of sugar, till even Radbourn's +gravity gave way, and he smiled into her lifted eyes—an unusual smile, +that strangely enough stopped the smile on her own lips, filling her +face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> +with a wistful shadow, and her breath came hard for a moment, and +she trembled.</p> + +<p>She loved that cold, stern face, oh, so much! and to have him smile was +a pleasure that made her heart leap till she suffered a smothering pain. +She turned to him to say:</p> + +<p>"I am very thankful, Mr. Radbourn, for another pleasant ride," adding in +a lower tone: "It was a very great pleasure; you always give me so much. +I feel stronger and more hopeful."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you feel so. I was afraid I was prosy with my land-doctrine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! Indeed no! You have given me a new hope; I am exalted with the +thought; I shall try to think it all out and apply it."</p> + +<p>And so they parted, the children looking on and slyly whispering among +themselves. Radbourn looked back after awhile, but the bare little hive +had absorbed its little group, and was standing bleak as a tombstone and +hot as a furnace on the naked plain in the blazing sun.</p> + +<p>"America's pitiful boast!" said the young radical, looking back at it. +"Only a miserable hint of what it might be."</p> + +<p>All that forenoon, as Lily faced her little group of barefooted +children, she was thinking of Radbourn, of his almost fierce sympathy +for these poor, supine farmers, hopeless and in some cases content in +their narrow lives. The children almost +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> +worshiped the beautiful girl who came to them as a revelation of exquisite +neatness and taste,—whose very voice and intonation awed them.</p> + +<p>They noted, unconsciously, of course, every detail. Snowy linen, touches +of soft color, graceful lines of bust and side—the slender fingers that +could almost speak, so beautifully flexile were they. Lily herself +sometimes, when she shook the calloused, knotted, stiffened hands of the +women, shuddered with sympathetic pain, to think that the crowning +wonder and beauty of God's world should be so maimed and distorted from +its true purpose.</p> + +<p>Even in the children before her she could see the inherited results of +fruitless labor—and, more pitiful yet, in the bent shoulders of the +older ones she could see the beginnings of deformity that would soon be +permanent. And as these things came to her, she clasped the poor +wondering things to her side with a convulsive wish to make life a +little brighter for them.</p> + +<p>"How is your mother to-day?" she asked of Sadie Burns, as she was eating +her luncheon on the drab-colored table near the open window.</p> + +<p>"Purty well," said Sadie, in a hesitating way.</p> + +<p>Lily was looking out, and listening to the gophers whistling as they +raced to and fro. She could see Bob Burns lying at length on the grass +in the pasture over the fence, his heels waving in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> +the air, his hands +holding a string which formed a snare. It was like fishing to young +Izaak Walton.</p> + +<p>It was very still and hot, and the cheep and trill of the gophers and +the chatter of the kingbirds alone broke the silence. A cloud of +butterflies were fluttering about a pool near; a couple of big flies +buzzed and mumbled on the pane.</p> + +<p>"What ails your mother?" Lily asked, recovering herself and looking at +Sadie, who was distinctly ill at ease.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I dunno," Sadie replied, putting one bare foot across the other.</p> + +<p>Lily insisted.</p> + +<p>"She 'n' pa's had an awful row"——</p> + +<p>"Sadie!" said the teacher warningly, "what language!"</p> + +<p>"I mean they quarreled, an' she don't speak to him any more."</p> + +<p>"Why, how dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"An' pa he's awful cross; and she won't eat when he does, an' I haf to +wait on table."</p> + +<p>"I believe I'll go down and see her this noon," said Lily to herself, as +she divined a little of the state of affairs in the Burns family.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span></p> +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">Sim</span> +was mending the pasture fence as Lily came down the road toward him. +He had delayed going to dinner to finish his task and was just about +ready to go when Lily spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Mr. Burns. I am just going down to see Mrs. Burns. It +must be time to go to dinner—aren't you ready to go? I want to talk +with you."</p> + +<p>Ordinarily he would have been delighted with the idea of walking down +the road with the school-ma'am, but there was something in her look +which seemed to tell him that she knew all about his trouble, and, +besides, he was not in good humor.</p> + +<p>"Yes, in a minnit—soon's I fix up this hole. Them shoats, I b'lieve, +would go through a key-hole, if they could once get their snoots in."</p> + +<p>He expanded on this idea as he nailed away, anxious to gain time. He +foresaw trouble for himself. He couldn't be rude to this sweet and +fragile girl. If a <em>man</em> had dared to attack him on his domestic +shortcomings, he could have fought. The girl stood waiting for him, her +large, steady eyes full of thought, gazing down at him from the shadow +of her broad-brimmed hat.</p> + +<p>"The world is so full of misery anyway, that we ought to do the best we +can to make it less," she said at last, in a musing tone, as if her +thoughts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> +had unconsciously taken on speech. She had always appealed to +him strongly, and never more so than in this softly-uttered +abstraction—that it was an abstraction added to its power with him.</p> + +<p>He could find no words for reply, but picked up his hammer and nail-box, +and slouched along the road by her side, listening without a word to her +talk.</p> + +<p>"Christ was patient, and bore with his enemies. Surely we ought to bear +with our—friends," she went on, adapting her steps to his. He took off +his torn straw hat and wiped his face on his sleeve, being much +embarrassed and ashamed. Not knowing how to meet such argument, he kept +silent.</p> + +<p>"How <em>is</em> Mrs. Burns?" said Lily at length, determined to make him +speak. The delicate meaning in the emphasis laid on <em>is</em> did not escape +him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she's all right—I mean she's done her work jest the same as ever. +I don't see her much"——</p> + +<p>"I didn't know—I was afraid she was sick. Sadie said she was acting +strangely."</p> + +<p>"No, she's well enough—but"——</p> + +<p>"But what is the trouble? Won't you let me help you, <em>won't</em> you?" she +pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Can't anybody help us. We've got 'o fight it out, I s'pose," he +replied, a gloomy note of resentment +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> +creeping into his voice. "She's ben in a devil of a temper f'r a week."</p> + +<p>"Haven't you been in the same kind of a temper too?" demanded Lily, +firmly, but kindly. "I think most troubles of this kind come from bad +temper on both sides. Don't you? Have you done your share at being kind +and patient?"</p> + +<p>They had reached the gate now, and she laid her hand on his arm to stop +him. He looked down at the slender gloved hand on his arm, feeling as if +a giant had grasped him; then he raised his eyes to her face, flushing a +purplish red as he remembered his grossness. It seemed monstrous in the +presence of this girl-advocate. Her face was like silver; her eyes +seemed pools of tears.</p> + +<p>"I don't s'pose I have," he said at last, pushing by her. He could not +have faced her glance another moment. His whole air conveyed the +impression of destructive admission. Lily did not comprehend the extent +of her advantage or she would have pursued it further. As it was she +felt a little hurt as she entered the house. The table was set, but Mrs. +Burns was nowhere to be seen. Calling her softly, the young girl passed +through the shabby little living-room to the oven-like bed-room which +opened off it, but no one was about. She stood for a moment shuddering +at the wretchedness of the room.</p> + +<p>Going back to the kitchen, she found Sim about +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> +beginning on his dinner. Little Pet was with him; the rest of the +children were at the school-house.</p> + +<p>"Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"I d' know. Out in the garden, I expect. She don't eat with me now. I +never see her. She don't come near <em>me</em>. I ain't seen her since +Saturday."</p> + +<p>Lily was shocked inexpressibly and began to see more clearly the +magnitude of the task she had set herself to do. But it must be done; +she felt that a tragedy was not far off. It must be averted.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Burns, what have you done? What <em>have</em> you done?" she asked in +terror and horror.</p> + +<p>"Don't lay it all to <em>me</em>! She hain't done nawthin' but complain f'r ten +years. I couldn't do nothin' to suit her. She was always naggin' me."</p> + +<p>"I don't think Lucretia Burns would nag anybody. I don't say you're +<em>all</em> to blame, but I'm afraid you haven't acknowledged you were +<em>any</em> to blame. I'm afraid you've not been patient with her. +I'm going out to bring her in. If she comes, will you <em>say</em> you +were <em>part</em> to blame? You needn't beg her pardon—just say +you'll try to be better. Will you do it? Think how much she has done +for you! Will you?"</p> + +<p>He remained silent, and looked discouragingly rude. His sweaty, dirty +shirt was open at the neck, his arms were bare, his scraggly teeth were +yellow with tobacco, and his uncombed hair lay +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> +tumbled about on his +high, narrow head. His clumsy, unsteady hands played with the dishes on +the table. His pride was struggling with his sense of justice; he knew +he ought to consent, and yet it was so hard to acknowledge himself to +blame. The girl went on in a voice piercingly sweet, trembling with pity +and pleading.</p> + +<p>"What word can I carry to her from you? I'm going to go and see her. If +I could take a word from <em>you</em>, I know she would come back to the table. +Shall I tell her you feel to blame?"</p> + +<p>The answer was a long time coming; at last the man nodded an assent, the +sweat pouring from his purple face. She had set him thinking; her +victory was sure.</p> + +<p>Lily almost ran out into the garden and to the strawberry patch, where +she found Lucretia in her familiar, colorless, shapeless dress, picking +berries in the hot sun, the mosquitoes biting her neck and hands.</p> + +<p>"Poor, pathetic, dumb sufferer!" the girl thought as she ran up to her.</p> + +<p>She dropped her dish as she heard Lily coming, and gazed up into the +tender, pitying face. Not a word was spoken, but something she saw there +made her eyes fill with tears, and her throat swell. It was pure +sympathy. She put her arms around the girl's neck and sobbed for the +first time since Friday night. Then they sat down on the grass +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> under +the hedge, and she told her story, interspersed with Lily's horrified +comments.</p> + +<p>When it was all told, the girl still sat listening. She heard Radbourn's +calm, slow voice again. It helped her not to hate Burns; it helped her +to pity and understand him:</p> + +<p>"You must remember that such toil brutalizes a man; it makes him +callous, selfish, unfeeling, necessarily. A fine nature must either +adapt itself to its hard surroundings or die. Men who toil terribly in +filthy garments day after day and year after year cannot easily keep +gentle; the frost and grime, the heat and cold will soon or late enter +into their souls. The case is not all in favor of the suffering wives, +and against the brutal husbands. If the farmer's wife is dulled and +crazed by her routine, the farmer himself is degraded and brutalized."</p> + +<p>As well as she could Lily explained all this to the woman, who lay with +her face buried in the girl's lap. Lily's arms were about her thin +shoulders in an agony of pity.</p> + +<p>"It's hard, Lucretia, I know—more than you can bear—but you mustn't +forget what Sim endures too. He goes out in the storms and in the heat +and dust. His boots are hard, and see how his hands are all bruised and +broken by his work! He was tired and hungry when he said that—he didn't +really mean it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> +The wife remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Radbourn says work, as things go now, <em>does</em> degrade a man in spite +of himself. He says men get coarse and violent in spite of themselves, +just as women do when everything goes wrong in the house—when the flies +are thick, and the fire won't burn, and the irons stick to the clothes. +You see, you both suffer. Don't lay up this fit of temper against +Sim—will you?"</p> + +<p>The wife lifted her head and looked away. Her face was full of hopeless +weariness.</p> + +<p>"It ain't this once. It ain't that 't all. It's having no let-up. Just +goin' the same thing right over 'n' over—no hope of anything better."</p> + +<p>"If you had a hope of another world"——</p> + +<p>"Don't talk that. I don't want that kind o' comfert. I want a decent +chance here. I want 'o rest an' be happy <em>now</em>." Lily's big eyes were +streaming with tears. What should she say to the desperate woman? +"What's the use? We might jest as well die—all of us."</p> + +<p>The woman's livid face appalled the girl. She was gaunt, heavy-eyed, +nerveless. Her faded dress settled down over her limbs, showing the +swollen knees and thin calves; her hands, with distorted joints, +protruded painfully from her sleeves. And all about was the +ever-recurring wealth and cheer of nature that knows no fear or +favor—the bees and flies buzzing in the sun, the jay and kingbird +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> in +the poplars, the smell of strawberries, the motion of lush grass, the +shimmer of corn-blades tossed gayly as banners in a conquering army.</p> + +<p>Like a flash of keener light, a sentence shot across the girl's mind: +"Nature knows no title-deed. The bounty of her mighty hands falls as the +sunlight falls, copious, impartial; her seas carry all ships; her air is +for all lips, her lands for all feet."</p> + +<p>"Poverty and suffering such as yours will not last." There was something +in the girl's voice that roused the woman. She turned her dull eyes upon +the youthful face.</p> + +<p>Lily took her hand in both hers as if by a caress she could impart her +own faith.</p> + +<p>"Look up, dear. When nature is so good and generous, man must come to be +better, surely. Come, go in the house again. Sim is there; he expects +you; he told me to tell you he was sorry." Lucretia's face twitched a +little at that, but her head was bent. "Come; you can't live this way. +There isn't any other place to go to."</p> + +<p>No; that was the bitterest truth. Where on this wide earth, with its +forth-shooting fruits and grains, its fragrant lands and shining seas, +could this dwarfed, bent, broken, middle-aged woman go? Nobody wanted +her, nobody cared for her. But the wind kissed her drawn lips as readily +as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> +those of the girl, and the blooms of clover nodded to her as if to a +queen.</p> + +<p>Lily had said all she could. Her heart ached with unspeakable pity and a +sort of terror.</p> + +<p>"Don't give up, Lucretia. This may be the worst hour of your life. Live +and bear with it all for Christ's sake—for your children's sake. Sim +told me to tell you he was to blame. If you will only see that you are +both to blame and yet neither to blame, then you can rise above it. Try, +dear!"</p> + +<p>Something that was in the girl imparted itself to the wife, +electrically. She pulled herself together, rose silently, and started +toward the house. Her face was rigid, but no longer sullen. Lily +followed her slowly, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>As she neared the kitchen door, she saw Sim still sitting at the table; +his face was unusually grave and soft. She saw him start and shove back +his chair—saw Lucretia go to the stove and lift the tea-pot, and heard +her say, as she took her seat beside the baby:</p> + +<p>"Want some more tea?"</p> + +<p>She had become a wife and mother again, but in what spirit the puzzled +girl could not say.</p> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<div class="chapter-intro"> +<p><a name="Part_V." id="Part_V."></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> +<br /><br /><br /></p> +<h2><a href="#Contents">Part V.</a></h2> +<p class="chapter-title2" style="font-size:160%">SATURDAY NIGHT <span class="smcap">on the</span> FARM: +<span style="font-size:90%">BOYS AND HARVEST HANDS.</span></p> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf before verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf before verse in chapter introduction]" /></div> +<table summary="poem"><tr><td> +<p><i>In mystery of town and play<br /> +The splendid lady lives alway,<br /> +Inwrought with starlight, winds and streams.</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" +/></div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> +<h2>SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE FARM.</h2> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter title from text]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter title from text]" /></div> +<p><span class="first-word">A group</span> +of men were gathered in Farmer Graham's barn one rainy day in +September; the rain had stopped the stacking, and the men were amusing +themselves with feats of skill and strength. Steve Nagle was the +champion, no matter what came up; whether shouldering a sack of wheat, +or raising weights or suspending himself with one hand, he left the +others out of the race.</p> + +<p>"Aw! it's no good foolun' with such puny little men as you," he +swaggered at last, throwing himself down upon a pile of sacks.</p> + +<p>"If our hired man was here I bet he'd beat you all holler," piped a +boy's voice from the doorway.</p> + +<p>Steve raised himself up and glared.</p> + +<p>"What's that thing talkun'?"</p> + +<p>The boy held his ground. "You can brag when he ain't around, but I bet +he can lick you with one hand tied behind him; don't you, Frank?"</p> + +<p>Frank was doubtful, and kept a little out of sight. He was afraid of +Steve, as were, indeed, all the other men, for he had terrorized the +saloons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> +of the county for years. Johnny went on about his hero:</p> + +<p>"Why, he can take a sack of wheat by the corners and snap every kernel +of it clean out; he can lift a separator just as easy! You'd better brag +when he's around."</p> + +<p>Steve's anger rose, for he saw the rest laughing; he glared around at +them all like a hyena. "Bring on this whelp, let's see how he looks. I +ain't seen him yit."</p> + +<p>"Pa says if Lime went to a saloon where you'd meet him once, you +wouldn't clean out that saloon," Johnny went on in a calm voice, with a +sort of undercurrent of glee in it. He saw Steve's anger, and was +delighted.</p> + +<p>"Bring on this feller; I'll knock the everlasting spots offen 'im f'r +two cents."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell 'im that."</p> + +<p>"Tell him and be damned," roared Steve, with a wolfish gleam in his eyes +that drove the boys away whooping with mingled terror and delight.</p> + +<p>Steve saw that the men about him held Johnny's opinion of Lime, and it +made him furious. For several years he had held undisputed sovereignty +over the saloons of Rock County, and when, with both sleeves rolled up +and eyes flaming with madness, he had leaped into the center of a +bar-room floor with a wild shout, everybody got out, by doors, windows +or any other way, sometimes taking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> +sash and all, and left him roaring +with maniacal delight.</p> + +<p>No one used a revolver in those days. Shooting was almost unknown. +Fights were tests of physical strength and savagery.</p> + +<p>Harvest brought into Iowa at that time a flood of rough and hardy men +who drifted north with the moving line of ripening wheat, and on +Saturday nights the saloons of the county were filled with them, and +Steve found many chances to show his power. Among these strangers, as +they gathered in some saloon to make a night of it, he loved to burst +with his assertion of individual sovereignty.</p> + +<hr class="break" /> + +<p>Lime was out mending fence when Johnny came home to tell him what Steve +had said. Johnny was anxious to see his faith in his hero justified, and +watched Lime carefully as he pounded away without looking up. His dress +always had an easy slouch about his vast limbs, and his pantaloons, +usually of some dark stuff, he wore invariably tucked into his +boot-tops, his vest swinging unbuttoned, his hat carelessly awry.</p> + +<p>Being a quiet, sober man, he had never been in a saloon when Steve +entered to swing his hat to the floor and yell:</p> + +<p>"I'm Jack Robinson, I am! I am the man that bunted the bull off the +bridge! I'm the best man in Northern Iowa!" He had met him, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> of course, +but Steve kept a check upon himself when sober.</p> + +<p>"He says he can knock the spots off of you," Johnny said, in conclusion, +watching Lime roguishly.</p> + +<p>The giant finished nailing up the fence, and at last said: "Now run +along, sonny, and git the cows." There was a laugh in his voice that +showed his amusement at Johnny's disappointment. "I ain't got any +spots."</p> + +<p>On the following Saturday night, at dusk, as Lime was smoking his pipe +out on the horse-block, with the boys around him, there came a +swiftly-driven wagon down the road, filled with a noisy load of men. +They pulled up at the gate, with a prodigious shouting.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Lime!"</p> + +<p>"Hello, the house!"</p> + +<p>"Hurrah for the show!"</p> + +<p>"It's Al Crandall," cried Johnny, running down to the gate. Lime +followed slowly, and asked: "What's up, boys?"</p> + +<p>"All goin' down to the show; climb in!"</p> + +<p>"All right; wait till I git my coat."</p> + +<p>Lime was working one of Graham's farms on shares in the summer; in the +winter he went to the pinery.</p> + +<p>"Oh, can't we go, Lime?" pleaded the boys.</p> + +<p>"If your dad'll let you; I'll pay for the tickets."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> +The boys rushed wildly to the house and as wildly back again, and the +team resumed its swift course, for it was getting late. It was a +beautiful night; the full moon poured down a cataract of silent white +light like spray, and the dew (almost frost) lay on the grass and +reflected the glory of the autumn sky; the air was still and had that +peculiar property, common to the prairie air, of carrying sound to a +great distance.</p> + +<p>The road was hard and smooth, and the spirited little team bowled the +heavy wagon along at a swift pace. "We're late," Crandall said, as he +snapped his long whip over the heads of his horses, "and we've got to +make it in twenty-five minutes or miss part of the show." This caused +Johnny great anxiety. He had never seen a play and wanted to see it all. +He looked at the flying legs of the horses and pushed on the dashboard, +chirping at them slyly.</p> + +<p>Rock Falls was the county town and the only town where plays could be +produced. It was a place of about 3,000 inhabitants at that time, and to +Johnny's childish eyes it was a very great place indeed. To go to town +was an event, but to go with the men at night, and to a show, was +something to remember a lifetime.</p> + +<p>There was little talk as they rushed along, only some singing of a +dubious sort by Bill Young, on the back seat. At intervals Bill stopped +singing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> +and leaned over to say, in exactly the same tone of voice each +time: "Al, I hope t' God we won't be late." Then he resumed his +monotonous singing, or said something coarse to Rice, who laughed +immoderately.</p> + +<p>The play had begun when they climbed the narrow, precarious stairway +which led to the door of the hall. Every seat of the room was filled, +but as for the boys, after getting their eyes upon the players, they did +not think of sitting, or of moving, for that matter; they were literally +all eyes and ears.</p> + +<p>The hall seated about 400 persons, and the stage was a contrivance +striking as to coloring as well as variety of pieces. It added no little +to the sport of the evening by the squeaks it gave out as the heavy man +walked across, and by the falling down of the calico wings and by the +persistent refusal of the curtain to go down at the proper moment on the +tableau. At the back of the room the benches rose one above the other +until the one at the rear was near the grimy ceiling. These benches were +occupied by the toughs of the town, who treated each other to peanuts +and slapped one another over the head with their soft, shapeless hats, +and laughed inordinately when some fellow's hat was thrown out of his +reach into the crowd.</p> + +<p>The play was Wilkie Collins' "New Magdalen," and the part of Mercy was +taken by a large and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> +magnificently proportioned woman, a blonde, and in +Johnny's eyes she seemed something divine, with her grace and majesty of +motion. He took a personal pride in her at once and wanted her to come +out triumphant in the end, regardless of any conventional morality.</p> + +<p>True, his admiration for the dark little woman's tragic utterance at +times drew him away from his breathless study of the queenly Mercy, but +such moments were few. Within a half hour he was deeply in love with the +heroine and wondered how she could possibly endure the fat man who +played the part of Horace, and who pitched into the practicable supper +of cold ham, biscuit and currant wine with a gusto that suggested +gluttony as the reason for his growing burden of flesh.</p> + +<p>And so the play went on. The wonderful old lady in the cap and +spectacles, the mysterious dark little woman who popped in at short +intervals to say "Beware!" in a very deep contralto voice, the tender +and repentant Mercy, all were new and wonderful, beautiful things to the +boys, and though they stood up the whole evening through, it passed so +swiftly that the curtain's fall drew from them long sighs of regret. +From that time on they were to dream of that wonderful play and that +beautiful, repentant woman. So securely was she enthroned in their +regard that no rude and senseless jest could ever unseat her. Of +course,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> +the men, as they went out, laughed and joked in the manner of +such men, and swore in their disappointment because it was a serious +drama in place of the comedy and the farce which they had expected.</p> + +<p>"It's a regular sell," Bill said. "I wanted to hear old Plunket stid of +all that stuff about nothin'. That was a lunkin' good-lookin' woman +though," he added, with a coarse suggestion in his voice, which +exasperated Johnny to the pitch of giving him a kick on the heel as he +walked in front. "Hyare, young feller, look where you're puttin' your +hoofs!" Bill growled, looking about.</p> + +<p>John was comforted by seeing in the face of his brother the same rapt +expression which he felt was on his own. He walked along almost +mechanically, scarcely feeling the sidewalk, his thoughts still dwelling +on the lady and the play. It was after ten o'clock, and the stores were +all shut, the frost lay thick and white on the plank walk, and the moon +was shining as only a moon can shine through the rarefied air on the +Western prairies, and overhead the stars in innumerable hosts swam in +the absolutely cloudless sky.</p> + +<p>John stumbled along, keeping hold of Lime's hand till they reached the +team standing at the sidewalk, shivering with cold. The impatient horses +stretched their stiffened limbs with pleasure and made off with a +rearing plunge. The men +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> +were noisy. Bill sang another song at the top +of his voice as they rattled by the sleeping houses, but as he came to +an objectionable part of the song Lime turned suddenly and said: "Shut +up on that, will you?" and he became silent.</p> + +<p>Rock Falls, after the most extraordinary agitation, had just prohibited +the sale of liquor at any point within two miles of the school-house in +the town. This, after strenuous opposition, was enforced; the immediate +effect of the law was to establish saloons at the limit of the two miles +and to throw a large increase of business into the hands of Hank Swartz +in the retail part of his brewery, which was situated about two miles +from the town, on the bank of the river. He had immediately built a +bar-room and made himself ready for the increase of his trade, which had +previously been confined to supplying picnic parties with half-kegs of +beer or an occasional glass to teamsters passing by. Hank had an eye to +the main chance and boasted: "If the public gits ahead of me it's got to +be up and a-comin'."</p> + +<p>The road along which Crandall was driving did not lead to Hank's place, +but the river road, which branched off a little farther on, went by the +brewery, though it was a longer way around. The men grew silent at last, +and the steady roll and rumble of the wagon over the smooth road was +soothing, and John laid his head in Lime's lap and fell +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> +asleep while looking at the moon and wondering why it always seemed to go +just as fast as the team.</p> + +<p>He was awakened by a series of wild yells, the snapping of whips and the +furious rush of horses. It was another team filled with harvesters +trying to pass, and not succeeding. The fellows in the other wagon +hooted and howled and cracked the whip, but Al's little bays kept them +behind until Lime protested, "Oh, let 'em go, Al," and then with a shout +of glee the team went by and left them in a cloud of dust.</p> + +<p>"Say, boys," said Bill, "that was Pat Sheehan and the Nagle boys. +They've turned off; they're goin' down to Hank's. Let's go too. Come on, +fellers, what d'you say? I'm allfired dry. Ain't you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm willun'," said Frank Rice; "what d'you say, Lime?" John looked up +into Lime's face and said to him, in a low voice, "Let's go home; that +was Steve a-drivin'." Lime nodded and made a sign to John to keep still, +but John saw his head lift. He had heard and recognized Steve's voice.</p> + +<p>"It was Pat Sheehan, sure," repeated Bill, "an' I shouldn't wonder if +the others was the Nagle boys and Eth Cole."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was Steve," said Al. "I saw his old hat as he went by."</p> + +<p>It was perfectly intelligible to Lime that they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> +were all anxious to +have a meeting between Steve and himself. Johnny saw also that if Lime +refused to go to the brewery he would be called a coward. Bill would +tell it all over the neighborhood, and his hero would be shamed. At last +Lime nodded his head in consent and Al turned off into the river road.</p> + +<p>When they drew up at the brewery by the river the other fellows had all +entered and the door was shut. There were two or three other teams +hitched about under the trees. The men sprang out and Bill danced a jig +in anticipation of the fun to follow. "If Steve starts to lam Lime +there'll be a circus."</p> + +<p>As they stood for a moment before the door Al spoke to Lime about +Steve's probable attack. "I ain't goin' to hunt around for no row," +replied Lime, placidly, "and I don't believe Steve is. You lads," he +said to the boys, "watch the team for a little while; cuddle down under +the blankets if you git cold. It ain't no place for you in the inside. +We won't stop long," he ended, cheerily.</p> + +<p>The door opened and let out a dull red light, closed again, and all was +still except an occasional burst of laughter and noise of heavy feet +within. The scene made an indelible impress upon John, child though he +was. Fifty feet away the river sang over its shallows, broad and +whitened with foam which gleamed like frosted silver in the brilliant +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> +moonlight. The trees were dark and tall about him and loomed overhead +against the starlit sky, and the broad high moon threw a thick tracery +of shadows on the dusty white road where the horses stood. Only the +rhythmic flow of the broad, swift river, with the occasional uneasy +movement of the horses under their creaking harnesses or the dull noise +of the shouting men within the shanty, was to be heard.</p> + +<p>John nestled down into the robes and took to dreaming of the lovely lady +he had seen, and wondered if, when he became a man, he should have a +wife like her. He was awakened by Frank, who was rousing him to serve a +purpose of his own. John was ten and Frank fifteen; he rubbed his sleepy +eyes and rose under orders.</p> + +<p>"Say, Johnny, what d'yeh s'pose them fellers are doen' in there? You +said Steve was goin' to lick Lime, you did. It don't sound much like it +in there. Hear 'um laugh," he said viciously and regretfully. "Say, +John, you sly along and peek in and see what they're up to, an' come an' +tell me, while I hold the horses," he said, to hide the fact that John +was doing a good deal for his benefit.</p> + +<p>John got slowly off the wagon and hobbled on toward the saloon, stiff +with the cold. As he neared the door he could hear some one talking in a +loud voice, while the rest laughed at intervals in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> +the manner of those +who are listening to the good points in a story. Not daring to open the +door, Johnny stood around the front trying to find a crevice to look in +at. The speaker inside had finished his joke and some one had begun +singing.</p> + +<p>The building was a lean-to attached to the brewery, and was a rude and +hastily constructed affair. It had only two windows; one was on the side +and the other on the back. The window on the side was out of John's +reach, so he went to the back of the shanty. It was built partly into +the hill, and the window was at the top of the bank. John found that by +lying down on the ground on the outside he had a good view of the +interior. The window, while level with the ground on the outside, was +about as high as the face of a man on the inside. He was extremely +wide-awake now and peered in at the scene with round, unblinking eyes.</p> + +<p>Steve was making sport for the rest and stood leaning his elbow on the +bar. He was in rare good humor, for him. His hat was lying beside him +and he was in his shirt-sleeves, and his cruel gray eyes, pockmarked +face and broken nose were lighted up with a frightful smile. He was +good-natured now, but the next drink might set him wild. Hank stood +behind the high pine bar, a broad but nervous grin on his round, red +face. Two big kerosene lamps, through a couple of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> +smoky chimneys, sent +a dull red glare upon the company, which half filled the room.</p> + +<p>If Steve's face was unpleasant to look upon, the nonchalant, tiger-like +poise and flex of his body was not. He had been dancing, it seemed, and +had thrown off his coat, and as he talked he repeatedly rolled his blue +shirt-sleeves up and down as though the motion were habitual to him. +Most of the men were sitting around the room looking on and laughing at +Steve's antics, and the antics of one or two others who were just drunk +enough to make fools of themselves. Two or three sat on an old billiard +table under the window through which John was peering.</p> + +<p>Lime sat in his characteristic attitude, his elbows upon his knees and +his thumbs under his chin. His eyes were lazily raised now and then with +a lion-like action of the muscles of his forehead. But he seemed to take +little interest in the ribaldry of the other fellows. John measured both +champions critically, and exulted in the feeling that Steve was not so +ready for the row with Lime as he thought he was.</p> + +<p>After Steve had finished his story there was a chorus of roars: "Bully +for you, Steve!" "Give us another," etc. Steve, much flattered, nodded +to the alert saloon-keeper, and said: "Give us another, Hank." As the +rest all sprang up he added: "Pull out that brandy kaig this time, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> +Hank. Trot her out, you white-livered Dutchman," he roared, as Swartz +hesitated.</p> + +<p>The brewer fetched it up from beneath the bar, but he did it +reluctantly. In the midst of the hubbub thus produced, an abnormally +tall and lanky fellow known as "High" Bedloe pushed up to the bar and +made an effort to speak, and finally did say solemnly:</p> + +<p>"Gen'lmun, Steve, say, gen'lmun, do'n' less mix our drinks!"</p> + +<p>This was received with boisterous delight, in which Bedloe could not see +the joke, and looked feebly astonished.</p> + +<p>Just at this point John received such a fright as entirely took away his +powers of moving or breathing, for something laid hold of his heels with +deadly grip. He was getting his breath to yell when a familiar voice at +his ear said, in a tone somewhere between a whisper and a groan:</p> + +<p>"Say, what they up to all this while? I'm sick o' wait'n' out there."</p> + +<p>Frank had become impatient; as for John, he had been so absorbed by the +scenes within, he had not noticed how the frosty ground was slowly +stiffening his limbs and setting his teeth chattering. They were both +now looking in at the window. John had simply pointed with his mittened, +stubby thumb toward the interior, and Frank had crawled along to a place +beside him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> +Mixing the drinks had produced the disastrous effect which Hank and +Bedloe had anticipated. The fun became uproarious. There were songs and +dances by various members of the Nagle gang, but Lime's crowd, being in +the minority, kept quiet, occasionally standing treat as was the proper +thing to do.</p> + +<p>But Steve grew wilder and more irritable every moment. He seemed to have +drunk just enough to let loose the terrible force that slept in his +muscles. He had tugged at his throat until the strings of his woolen +shirt loosened, displaying the great, sloping muscles of his neck and +shoulders, white as milk and hard as iron. His eyes rolled restlessly to +and fro as he paced the floor. His panther-like step was full of a +terrible suggestiveness. The breath of the boys at the window came +quicker and quicker. They saw he was working himself into a rage that +threatened momentarily to break forth into a violence. He realized that +this was a crisis in his career; his reputation was at stake.</p> + +<p>Young as John was, he understood the whole matter as he studied the +restless Steve, and compared him with his impassive hero, sitting +immovable.</p> + +<p>"You see Lime can't go away," he explained, breathlessly, to Frank, in a +whisper, "'cause they'd tell it all over the country that he backed down +for Steve. He daresn't leave."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> +"Steve ain't no durn fool," returned the superior wisdom of Frank, in +the same cautious whisper, keeping his eyes on the bar-room. "See Lime +there, cool as a cucumber. He's from the pineries, he is." He ended in a +tone of voice intended to convey that fighting was the principal study +of the pineries, and that Lime had graduated with the highest honors. +"Steve ain't a-go'n' to pitch into him yet awhile, you bet y'r bottom +dollar; he ain't drunk enough for that."</p> + +<p>Each time the invitation for another drink was given, they noticed that +Lime kept on the outside of the crowd, and some one helped him to his +glass. "Don't you see he ain't drinkin'. He's throwin' it away," said +Frank; "there, see! He's foolun' 'em; he ain't a-go'n' to be drunk when +Steve tackles him. Oh, there'll be music in a minute or two."</p> + +<p>Steve now walked the floor, pouring forth a flood of profanity and +challenges against men who were not present. He had not brought himself +to the point of attacking the unmoved and silent giant. Some of the +younger men, and especially the pleader against mixed drinks, had +succumbed, and were sleeping heavily on the back end of the bar and on +the billiard table. Hank was getting anxious, and the forced smile on +his face was painful to see. Over the whole group there was a singular +air of waiting. No one was enjoying himself, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> +all wished that they +were on the road home, but there was no way out of it now. It was +evident that Lime purposed forcing the beginning of the battle on Steve. +He sat in statuesque repose.</p> + +<p>Steve had got his hat in his hand and held it doubled up like a club, +and every time that he turned in his restless walk he struck the bar a +resounding blow. His eyes seemed to see nothing, although they moved +wildly from side to side.</p> + +<p>He lifted up his voice in a raucous snarl. "I'm the man that struck +Billy Patterson! I'm the man that bunted the bull off the bridge! +Anybody got anything to say, now's his time. I'm here. Bring on your +champion."</p> + +<p>Foam came into the corners of his mouth, and the veins stood out on his +neck. His red face shone with its swollen veins. He smashed his fists +together, threw his hat on the floor, tramped on it, snarling out +curses. Nothing kept him in check save the imperturbability of the +seated figure. Everybody expected him to clear the saloon to prove his +power.</p> + +<p>Bedloe, who was asleep on the table, precipitated matters by rolling off +with a prodigious noise amid a pandemonium of howls and laughter. In his +anxiety to see what was going on, Frank thrust his head violently +against the window, and it crashed in, sending the glass rattling down +on the table.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> +Steve looked up, a red sheen in his eyes like that of a wild beast. +Instantly his fury burst out against this new object of attention—a +wild, unreasoning rage.</p> + +<p>"What you doen' there? Who air ye, ye mangy little dog?"</p> + +<p>Both boys sank back in tumultuous, shuddering haste, and rolled down the +embankment, while they heard the voice of Steve thundering: "Fetch the +little whelp here!"</p> + +<p>There was a rush from the inside, a sudden outpouring, and the next +moment John felt a hand touch his shoulder. Steve dragged him around to +the front of the saloon before he could draw his breath or utter a +sound. The rest crowded around.</p> + +<p>"What are y' doen' there?" said Steve, shaking him with insane +vindictiveness.</p> + +<p>"Drop that boy!" said the voice of Lime, and voice never sounded +sweeter. "Drop that boy!" he repeated, and his voice had a peculiar +sound, as if it came through his teeth.</p> + +<p>Steve dropped him, and turned with a grating snarl upon Lime, who opened +his way through the excited crowd while Johnny stumbled, leaped and +crawled out of the ring and joined Frank. </p> + +<p>"Oh, it's you, is it? You white-livered"——He did not finish, +for the arm of the blond giant shot out against his face like a beetle, +and down he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> +rolled on the grass. +The sound of the blow made Johnny give an involuntary, quick cry.</p> + +<p>"No human bein' could have stood up agin that blow," Crandall said +afterwards. "It was like a mule a-kickin'."</p> + +<p>As Steve slowly gained his feet, the silence was so great that Johnny +could hear the thumping of his heart and the fierce, almost articulate +breathing of Steve. The chatter and roar of the drunken crowd had been +silenced by this encounter of the giants. The open door, where Hank +stood, sent a reddish bar of light upon the two men as they faced each +other with a sort of terrific calm. In his swift gaze in search of his +brother, John noticed the dark wood, the river murmuring drowsily over +its foam-wreathed pebbles, and saw his brother's face white with +excitement, but not fear.</p> + +<p>Lime's blow had dazed Steve for a moment, but at the same time it had +sobered him. He came to his feet with a rising mutter that sounded like +the swelling snarl of a tiger. He had been taken by surprise before, and +he now came forward with his hands in position, to vindicate his +terrible reputation. The two men met in a frightful struggle. Blows that +meant murder were dealt by each. Each slapping thud seemed to carry the +cracking of bones in it. Steve was the more agile of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> two and +circled rapidly around, striking like a boxer.</p> + +<p>Every time his face came into view, with set teeth and ferocious scowl, +the boys' spirits fell. But when they saw the calm, determined eyes of +Lime, his watchful, confident look, they grew assured. All depended upon +him. The Nagle gang were like wolves in their growing ferocity, and as +they outnumbered the other party two to one, it was a critical quarter +of an hour. In a swift retrospect they remembered the frightful tales +told of this very spot—of the killing of Lars Peterson and his brother +Nels, and the brutal hammering a crowd of drunken men had given to Big +Ole, of the Wapsy.</p> + +<p>The blood was trickling down Lime's face from a cut on his cheek, but +Steve's face was swollen and ghastly from the three blows which he had +received. Lime was saving himself for a supreme effort. The Nagle party, +encouraged by the sound of the blows which Steve struck, began to yell +and to show that they were ready to take a hand in the contest.</p> + +<p>"Go it, Steve, we'll back yeh! Give it to 'im. We're with yeh! We'll +tend to the rest." They began to pull off their coats.</p> + +<p>Rice also threw off his coat. "Never mind these cowards, Lime. Hold on! +Fair play!" he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> +yelled, as he saw young Nagle about to strike Lime from +behind.</p> + +<p>His cry startled Lime, and with a sudden leap he dealt Steve a terrible +blow full in the face, and as he went reeling back made another leaping +lunge and struck him to the ground—a motion that seemed impossible to +one of his bulk. But as he did so one of the crowd tripped him and sent +him rolling upon the prostrate Steve, whose friends leaped like a pack +of snarling wolves upon Lime's back. There came into the giant's heart a +terrible, blind, desperate resolution. With a hoarse, inarticulate cry +he gathered himself for one supreme effort and rose from the heap like a +bear shaking off a pack of dogs; and holding the stunned and nerveless +Steve in his great hands, with one swift, incredible effort literally +swept his opponent's body in the faces of the infuriated men rushing +down upon him.</p> + +<p>"Come on, you red hellions!" he shouted, in a voice like a lion at bay. +The light streamed on his bared head, his hands were clinched, his chest +heaved in great gasps. There was no movement. The crowd waited with +their hands lowered; before such a man they could not stand for a +moment. They could not meet the blaze of his eyes. For a moment it +seemed as if no one breathed.</p> + +<p>In the silence that followed, Bill, who had kept out of sight up to this +moment, piped out in a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> +high, weak falsetto, with a comically +questioning accent: "All quiet along the Potomac, boys?"</p> + +<p>Lime unbraced, wiped his face and laughed. The others joined in +cautiously. "No, thank yez, none in mine," said Sheehan, in answer to +the challenge of Lime. "Whan Oi take to fightin' stame-ingins Oi'll lit +you knaw."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should say so," said another. "Lime, you're the best man that +walks this State."</p> + +<p>"Git out of the way, you white-livered hound, or I'll blow hell out o' +yeh," said Steve, who had recovered himself sufficiently to know what it +all meant. He lay upon the grass behind the rest and was weakly trying +to get his revolver sighted upon Lime. One of the men caught him by the +shoulder and the rest yelled:</p> + +<p>"Hyare, Steve, no shootin'. It was a fair go, and you're whipped."</p> + +<p>Steve only repeated his warnings to get out of the way. Lime turned upon +him and kicked the weapon from his outstretched hand, breaking his arm +at the wrist. The bullet went flying harmlessly into the air, and the +revolver hurtled away into the shadows.</p> + +<p>Walking through the ring, Lime took John by the hand and said: "Come, +boy, this is no place for you. Let's go home. Fellers," he drawled in +his customary lazy way, "when y' want me you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> +know where to find me. +Come, boys, the circus is over, the last dog is hung."</p> + +<p>For the first mile or two there was a good deal of talk, and Bill said +he knew that Lime could whip the whole crowd.</p> + +<p>"But where was you, Bill, about the time they had me down? I don't +remember hearin' anything of you 'long about that time, Bill."</p> + +<p>Bill had nothing to say.</p> + +<p>"Made me think somehow of Daniel in the lions' den," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, Johnny?" said Bill. "It made me think of a +circus. The circus there'll be when Lime's woman finds out what he's +been a-doin'."</p> + +<p>"Great Scott, boys, you mustn't tell on me," said Lime, in genuine +alarm.</p> + +<p>As for John, he lay with his head in Lime's lap, looking up at the glory +of the starlit night, and with a confused mingling of the play, of the +voice of the lovely woman, of the shouts and blows at the brewery in his +mind, and with the murmur of the river and the roll and rumble of the +wagon blending in his ears, he fell into a sleep which the rhythmic beat +of the horses' hoofs did not interrupt.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div class="chapter-intro"> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> +<a name="Part_VI." id="Part_VI."></a><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h2><a href="#Contents">Part VI.</a></h2> +<p class="chapter-title" style="font-size:160%">VILLAGE CRONIES: +<span style="font-size:90%">A GAME OF CHECKERS AT THE GROCERY.</span></p> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf before verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf before verse in chapter introduction]" /></div> +<table summary="poem"><tr><td> +<p><i>The village life abounds with jokers,<br /> +Shiftless, conscienceless and shrewd.</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" /></div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> +<h2>SOME VILLAGE CRONIES.</h2> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf separating chapter header from text]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf separating chapter header from text]" /></div> +<p><span class="first-word">Colonel Peavy</span> +had just begun the rubber with Squire Gordon, of Cerro +Gordo County. They were seated in Robie's grocery, behind the rusty old +cannon stove, the checker-board spread out on their knees. The Colonel +was grinning in great glee, wringing his bony yellow hands in nervous +excitement, in strong contrast to the stolid calm of the fat Squire.</p> + +<p>The Colonel had won the last game by a large margin, and was sure he had +his opponent's dodges well in hand. It was early in the evening, and the +grocery was comparatively empty. Robie was figuring at a desk, and old +Judge Brown stood in legal gravity warming his legs at the red-hot +stove, and swaying gently back and forth in speechless content. It was a +tough night outside, one of the toughest for years. The frost had +completely shut the window panes as with thick blankets of snow. The +streets were silent.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said the Judge, reflectively, to Robie, breaking the +silence in his rasping, judicial bass, "I don't know as there has been +such a night<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> +as this since the night of February 2d, '59; that was the +night James Kirk went under—Honorable Kirk, you remember—knew him +well. Brilliant fellow, ornament to Western bar. But whisky downed him. +It'll beat the oldest man—I wonder where the boys all are to-night? +Don't seem to be any one stirring on the street. Ain't frightened out by +the cold?"</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't wonder." Robie was busy at his desk, and not in humor for +conversation on reminiscent lines. The two old war-dogs at the board had +settled down to one of those long, silent struggles which ensue when two +champions meet. In the silence which followed, the Judge was looking +attentively at the back of the Colonel, and thinking that the old thief +was getting about down to skin and bone. He turned with a yawn to Robie, +saying:</p> + +<p>"This cold weather must take hold of the old Colonel terribly, he's so +damnably thin and bald, you know,—bald as a babe. The fact is, the old +Colonel ain't long for this world, anyway; think so, Hank?" Robie making +no reply, the Judge relapsed into silence for awhile, watching the cat +(perilously walking along the edge of the upper shelf) and listening to +the occasional hurrying footsteps outside. "I don't know <em>when</em> I've +seen the windows closed up so, Hank; go down to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> thirty below to-night; +devilish strong wind blowing, too; tough night on the prairies, Hank."</p> + +<p>"You bet," replied Hank, briefly.</p> + +<p>The Colonel was plainly getting excited. His razor-like back curved +sharper than ever as he peered into the intricacies of the board to spy +the trap which the fat Squire had set for him. At this point the squeal +of boots on the icy walk outside paused, and a moment later Amos Ridings +entered, with whiskers covered with ice, and looking like a huge bear in +his buffalo coat.</p> + +<p>"By Josephus! it's cold," he roared, as he took off his gloves and began +to warm his face and hands at the fire.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" asked the Judge, comfortably, rising on his tiptoes, only to +fall back into his usual attitude legal, legs well spread, shoulders +thrown back.</p> + +<p>"You bet it is!" replied Amos. "I d'know when I've felt the cold more'n +I have t'-day. It's jest snifty; doubles me up like a jack-knife, Judge. +How do you stand it?"</p> + +<p>"Toler'ble, toler'ble, Amos. But we're agin', we ain't what we were +once. Cold takes hold of us."</p> + +<p>"That's a fact," answered Amos to the retrospective musings of the +Judge. "Time was you an' me would go t' singing-school or sleigh-riding +with the girls on a night like this and never notice it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> +"Yes, sir; yes, sir!" said the Judge with a sigh. It was a little +uncertain in Robie's mind whether the Judge was regretting the lost +ability to stand the cold, or the lost pleasure of riding with the +girls.</p> + +<p>"Great days, those, gentlemen! Lived in Vermont then. Hot-blooded—lungs +like an ox. I remember, Sallie Dearborn and I used to go a-foot to +singing-school down the valley four miles. But now, wouldn't go riding +to-night with the handsomest woman in America, and the best cutter in +Rock River."</p> + +<p>"Oh! you've got both feet in the grave up t' the ankles, anyway," said +Robie, from his desk, but the Judge immovably gazed at the upper shelf +on the other side of the room, where the boilers and pans and washboards +were stored.</p> + +<p>"The Judge is a little on the sentimental order to-night," said Amos.</p> + +<p>"Hold on, Colonel! hold on. You've <em>got</em> 'o jump. Hah! hah!" roared +Gordon from the checker-board. "That's right, that's right!" he ended, +as the Colonel complied reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"Sock it to the old cuss!" commented Amos. "What I was going to say," he +resumed, rolling down the collar of his coat, "was, that when my wife +helped me bundle up t'-night, she said I was gitt'n' t' be an old +granny. We <em>are</em> agin', Judge, the's no denyin' that. We're both gray as +Norway<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> +rats now. An' speaking of us agin' reminds me,—have y' noticed +how bald the old Kyernel's gitt'n'?"</p> + +<p>"I have, Amos," answered the Judge, mournfully. "The old man's head is +showing age, showing age! Getting thin up there, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>The old Colonel bent to his work with studied abstraction, and even when +Amos said, judicially, after long scrutiny: "Yes, he'll soon be as bald +as a plate," he only lifted one yellow, freckled, bony hand, and brushed +his carroty growth of hair across the spot under discussion. Gordon +shook his fat paunch in silent laughter, nearly displacing the board.</p> + +<p>"I was just telling Robie," pursued Brown, still retaining his +reminiscent intonation, "that this storm takes the cake over +anything"——</p> + +<p>At this point Steve Roach and another fellow entered. Steve was Ridings' +hired hand, a herculean fellow, with a drawl, and a liability for taking +offense quite as remarkable.</p> + +<p>"Say! gents, I'm no spring rooster, but this jest gits away with +anything in line of cold <em>I</em> ever see."</p> + +<p>While this communication was being received in ruminative silence, Steve +was holding his ears in his hand and gazing at the intent champions at +the board. There they sat; the old Squire panting and wheezing in his +excitement, for he was planning a great "snap" on the Colonel, whose +red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> +and freckled nose almost touched the board. It was a solemn battle +hour. The wind howled mournfully outside, the timbers of the store +creaked in the cold, and the huge cannon stove roared in steady bass.</p> + +<p>"Speaking about ears," said Steve, after a silence, "dummed if I'd like +t' be quite s' bare 'round the ears as Kernel there. I wonder if any o' +you fellers has noticed how the ol' feller's lost hair this last summer. +He's gittin' bald, they's no coverin' it up—gittin' bald as a plate."</p> + +<p>"You're right, Stephen," said the Judge, as he gravely took his stand +behind his brother advocate and studied, with the eye of an adept, the +field of battle. "We were noticing it when you came in. It's a sad +thing, but it must be admitted."</p> + +<p>"It's the Kyernel's brains wearin' up through his hair, I take it," +commented Amos, as he helped himself to a handful of peanuts out of the +bag behind the counter. "Say, Steve, did y' stuff up that hole in front +of ol' Barney?"</p> + +<p>A shout was heard outside, and then a rush against the door, and +immediately two young fellows burst in, followed by a fierce gust of +snow. One was Professor Knapp, the other Editor Foster, of the <i>Morning +Call</i>.</p> + +<p>"Well, gents, how's this for high?" said Foster, in a peculiar tone of +voice, at which all began to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> +smile. He was a slender fellow with +close-clipped, assertive red hair. "In this company we now have the +majesty of the law, the power of the press, and the underpinning of the +American civilization all represented. Hello! There are a couple of old +roosters with their heads together. Gordon, my old enemy, how are you?"</p> + +<p>Gordon waved him off with a smile and a wheeze. "Don't bother me now. +I've got 'im. I'm laying f'r the old dog. Whist!"</p> + +<p>"Got nothing!" snarled the Colonel. "You try that on if you want to. +Just swing that man in there if you think it's healthy for him. Just as +like as not, you'll slip up on that little trick."</p> + +<p>"Ha! Say you so, old True Penny? The Kunnel has met a foeman worthy of +his steel," said Foster, in great glee, as he bent above the Colonel. "I +know. <em>How</em> do I know, quotha? By the curve on the Kunnel's back. The +size of the parabola described by that backbone accurately gauges his +adversary's skill. But, by the way, gentlemen, have you—but that's a +nice point, and I refer all nice points to Professor Knapp. Professor, +is it in good taste to make remarks concerning the dress or features of +another?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," answered Knapp, a handsome young fellow with a yellow +mustache.</p> + +<p>"Not when the person is an esteemed public character, like the Colonel +here? What I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> +about to remark, if it had been proper, was that the +old fellow is getting wofully bald. He'll soon be bald as an egg."</p> + +<p>"Say!" asked the Colonel, "I want to know how long you're going to keep +this thing up? Somebody's dummed sure t' get hurt soon."</p> + +<p>"There, there! Colonel," said Brown, soothingly, "don't get excited; +you'll lose the rubber. Don't mind 'em. Keep cool."</p> + +<p>"Yes, keep cool, Kunnel; it's only our solicitude for your welfare," +chipped in Foster. Then, addressing the crowd in a general sort of way, +he speculated: "Curious how a man, a plain American citizen like Colonel +Peavy, wins a place in the innermost affections of a whole people."</p> + +<p>"That's so!" murmured the rest.</p> + +<p>"He can't grow bald without deep sympathy from his fellow-citizens. It +amounts to a public calamity."</p> + +<p>The old Colonel glared in speechless wrath.</p> + +<p>"Say! gents," pleaded Gordon, "let up on the old man for the present. +He's going to need all of himself if he gets out o' the trap he's in +now." He waved his fat hand over the Colonel's head, and smiled blandly +at the crowd hugging the stove.</p> + +<p>"My head may be bald," grated the old man with a death's-head grin, +indescribably ferocious,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> +"but it's got brains enough in it to skunk any +man in this crowd three games out o' five."</p> + +<p>"The ol' man rather gits the laugh on y' there, gents," called Robie +from the other side of the counter. "I hain't seen the old skeesix play +better'n he did last night, in years."</p> + +<p>"Not since his return from Canada, after the war, I reckon," said Amos, +from the kerosene barrel.</p> + +<p>"Hold on, Amos," put in the Judge warningly, "that's outlawed. Talking +about being bald and the war reminds me of the night Walters and I—— +By the way, where is Walters to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Sick," put in the Colonel, straightening up exultantly. "I waxed him +three straight games last night. You won't see him again till spring. +Skunked him once, and beat him twice."</p> + +<p>"Oh, git out."</p> + +<p>"Hear the old seed twitter!"</p> + +<p>"Did you ever notice, gentlemen, how lying and baldness go together?" +queried Foster, reflectively.</p> + +<p>"No! Do they?"</p> + +<p>"Invariably. I've known many colossal liars, and they were all as bald +as apples."</p> + +<p>The Colonel was getting nervous, and was so slow that even Gordon (who +could sit and stare at the board a full half hour without moving) began +to be impatient.</p> + +<p>"Come, Colonel, marshal your forces a little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> +more promptly. If you're +going at me <i>echelon</i>, sound y'r bugle; I'm ready."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," answered the Colonel, in his calmest nasal. "I'll +accommodate you with all the fight you want."</p> + +<p>"Did it ever occur to you," began the Judge again, addressing the crowd +generally, as he moved back to the stove and lit another cigar, "did it +ever occur to you that it is a little singular a man should get bald on +the <em>top</em> of his head first? Curious fact. So accustomed to it we no +longer wonder at it. Now see the Colonel there. Quite a growth of hair +on his clapboarding, as it were, but devilish thin on his roof."</p> + +<p>Here the Colonel looked up and tried to say something, but the Judge +went on imperturbably:</p> + +<p>"Now, I take it that it's strictly providential that a man gets bald on +top of his head first, because, if he <em>must</em> get bald, it is best to get +bald where it can be covered up."</p> + +<p>"By jinks, that's a fact!" said Foster, in high admiration of the +Judge's ratiocination. Steve was specially pleased, and, drawing a +neck-yoke from a barrel standing near, pounded the floor vigorously.</p> + +<p>"Talking about being bald," put in Foster, "reminds me of a scheme of +mine, which is to send no one out to fight Indians but bald men. Think +how powerless they'd be in"——</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> +The talk now drifted off to Indians, politics and religion, edged round +to the war, when the grave Judge began telling Ridings and Robie just +how "Kilpatrick charged along the Granny White Turnpike," and, on a +sheet of wrapping-paper, was showing where Major John Dilrigg fell. "I +was on his left, about thirty yards, when I saw him throw up his +hand"——</p> + +<p>Foster in a low voice was telling something to the Professor and two or +three others, which made them whoop with uncontrollable merriment, when +the roaring voice of big Sam Walters was heard outside, and a moment +later he rolled into the room, filling it with his noise. Lottridge, the +watchmaker, and Erlberg, the German baker, came in with him.</p> + +<p>"<em>Hello</em>, hello, <em>hello</em>! All here, are yeh?"</p> + +<p>"All here waiting for you—and the turnkey," said Foster.</p> + +<p>"Well, here I am. Always on hand, like a sore thumb in huskin' season. +What's goin' on here? A game, hey? Hello, Gordon, it's you, is it? +Colonel, I owe you several for last night. But what the devil yo' got +your cap on fur, Colonel? Ain't it warm enough here for yeh?"</p> + +<p>The desperate Colonel, who had snatched up his cap when he heard Walters +coming, grinned painfully, pulling his straggly red and white beard +nervously. The strain was beginning to tell on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> +his iron nerves. He +removed the cap, and with a few muttered words went back to the game, +but there was a dangerous gleam in his fishy blue eyes, and the grizzled +tufts of red hair above his eyes lowered threateningly. A man who is +getting swamped in a game of checkers is not in a mood to bear +pleasantly any remarks on his bald head.</p> + +<p>"Oh! don't take it off, Colonel," went on his tormentor, hospitably. +"When a man gets as old as you are, he's privileged to wear his cap. I +wonder if any of you fellers have noticed how the Colonel is shedding +his hair."</p> + +<p>The old man leaped up, scattering the men on the checkerboard, which +flew up and struck Squire Gordon in the face, knocking him off his +stool. The old Colonel was ashy pale, and his eyes glared out from under +his huge brow like sapphires lit by flame. His spare form, clothed in a +seedy Prince Albert frock, towered with a singular dignity. His features +worked convulsively a moment, then he burst forth like the explosion of +a safety valve:</p> + +<p>"Shuttup, damyeh!"</p> + +<p>And then the crowd whooped, roared and rolled on the counters and +barrels, and roared and whooped again. They stamped and yelled, and ran +around like fiends, kicking the boxes and banging the coal scuttle in a +perfect pandemonium of mirth, leaving the old man standing there +helpless in his wrath, mad enough to shoot. Steve was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> just preparing to +seize the old man from behind, when Squire Gordon, struggling to his +feet among the spittoons, cried out, in the voice of a colonel of Fourth +of July militia:</p> + +<p>"<span class="shout">H-o-l-d!</span>"</p> + +<p>Silence was restored, and all stood around in expectant attitudes to +hear the Squire's explanation. He squared his elbows, shoved up his +sleeves, puffed out his fat cheeks, moistened his lips, and began +pompously:</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen"——</p> + +<p>"You've hit it; that's us," said some of the crowd in applause.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen of Rock River, when, in the course of human events, rumor had +blow'd to my ears the history of the checker-playing of Rock River, and +when I had waxed Cerro Gordo, and Claiborne, and Mower, then, when I say +to my ears was borne the clash of resounding arms in Rock River, the +emporium of Rock County, then did I yearn for more worlds to conquer, +and behold, I buckled on my armor and I am here."</p> + +<p>"Behold, he is here," said Foster, in confirmation of the statement. +"Good for you, Squire; git breath and go for us some more."</p> + +<p>"Hurrah for the Squire," etc.</p> + +<p>"I came seekin' whom I might devour, like a raging lion. I sought foeman +worthy of my steel. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> +I leaped into the arena and blew my challenge to +the four quarters of Rock"——</p> + +<p>"Good f'r you! Settemupagin! Go it, you old balloon," they all +applauded.</p> + +<p>"Knowing my prowess, I sought a fair fout and no favors. I met the +enemy, and he was mine. Champion after champion went down before me +like—went down like—Ahem! went <em>down</em> before me +like grass before the mighty cyclone of the Andes."</p> + +<p>"Listen to the old blowhard," said Steve.</p> + +<p>"Put him out," said the speaker, imperturbably. "Gentlemen, have I the +floor?"</p> + +<p>"You have," replied Brown, "but come to the point. The Colonel is +anxious to begin shooting." The Colonel, who began to suspect himself +victimized, stood wondering what under heaven they were going to do +next.</p> + +<p>"I am a-gitt'n' there," said the orator with a broad and sunny +condescension. "I found your champions an' laid 'em low. I waxed +Walters, and then I tackled the Colonel. I tried the <i>echelon</i>, the +'general advance,' then the 'give away' and 'flank' movements. But the +Colonel <em>was there!</em> Till this last game it was a fair field and no +favor. And now, gentlemen of Rock, I desire t' state to my deeply +respected opponent that he is still champion of Rock, and I'm not sure +but of Northern Iowa."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> +"Three cheers for the Kunnel!"</p> + +<p>And while they were being given the Colonel's brows relaxed, and the +champion of Cerro Gordo continued earnestly:</p> + +<p>"And now I wish to state to Colonel the solemn fact that I had nothing +to do with the job put up on him to-night. I scorn to use such means in +a battle. Colonel, you may be as bald as an apple, or an egg, yes, or a +<em>plate</em>, but you can play more checkers than any man I ever met; more +checkers than any other man on God's green footstool. With one single, +lone exception—myself."</p> + +<p>At this moment, somebody hit the Squire from Cerro Gordo with a decayed +apple, and as the crowd shouted and groaned Robie turned down the lights +on the tumult. The old Colonel seized the opportunity for putting a +handful of salt down Walters' neck, and slipped out of the door like a +ghost. As the crowd swarmed out on the icy walk, Editor Foster yelled:</p> + +<p>"Gents! let me give you a pointer. Keep your eye peeled for the next +edition of the Rock River <i>Morning Call</i>."</p> + +<p>And the bitter wind swept away the answering shouts of the pitiless +gang.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div class="chapter-intro"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> +<a name="Part_VII." id="Part_VII."></a><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h2><a href="#Contents">Part VII.</a></h2> +<p class="chapter-title" style="font-size:160%">DRIFTING CRANE: +<span style="font-size:90%">THE INDIAN AND THE PIONEER.</span></p> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> +<table summary="poem"><tr><td> +<p><i>Before them, surely, sullenly and slow,<br /> +The desperate and cheated Indians go.</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> +<h2>DRIFTING CRANE.</h2> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from text]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from text]" /> +</div> +<p><span class="first-word">The</span> +people of Boomtown invariably spoke of Henry Wilson as the oldest +settler in the Jim Valley, as he was of Buster County; but the Eastern +man, with his ideas of an "old settler," was surprised as he met the +short, silent, middle-aged man, who was very loath to tell anything +about himself, and about whom many strange and thrilling stories were +told by good story-tellers. In 1879 he was the only settler in the upper +part of the valley, living alone on the banks of the Elm, a slow, +tortuous stream pulsing lazily down the valley, too small to be called a +river and too long to be called a creek. For two years, it is said, +Wilson had only the company of his cattle, especially during the +winter-time, and now and then a visit from an Indian, or a trapper after +mink and musk-rats.</p> + +<p>Between his ranch and the settlements in Eastern Dakota there was the +wedge-shaped reservation known as the Sisseton Indian Reserve, on which +were stationed the customary agency and company of soldiers. But, of +course, at that time the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> +Indians were not restricted closely to the +bounds of the reserve, but ranged freely over the vast and beautiful +prairie lying between the coteaux or ranges of low hills which mark out +"the Jim Valley." The valley was unsurveyed for the most part, and the +Indians naturally felt a sort of proprietorship in it, and when Wilson +drove his cattle down into the valley and squatted, the chief, Drifting +Crane, welcomed him, as a host might, to an abundant feast whose +hospitality was presumed upon, but who felt the need of sustaining his +reputation as a host, and submitted graciously.</p> + +<p>The Indians during the first summer got to know Wilson, and liked him +for his silence, his courage, his generosity; but the older men pondered +upon the matter a great deal and watched with grave faces to see him +ploughing up the sod for his garden. There was something strange in this +solitary man thus deserting his kindred, coming here to live alone with +his cattle; they could not understand it. What they said in those +pathetic, dimly lighted lodges will never be known; but when winter +came, and the new-comer did not drive his cattle back over the hills as +they thought he would, then the old chieftains took long counsel upon +it. Night after night they smoked upon it, and at last Drifting Crane +said to two of his young men: "Go ask this cattleman why he remains in +the cold and snow with his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> +cattle. Ask him why he does not drive his +cattle home."</p> + +<p>This was in March, and one evening a couple of days later, as Wilson was +about re-entering his shanty at the close of his day's work, he was +confronted by two stalwart Indians, who greeted him pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"How d'e do? How d'e do?" he said in reply. "Come in. Come in and take a +snack."</p> + +<p>The Indians entered and sat silently while he put some food on the +table. They hardly spoke till after they had eaten. The Indian is always +hungry, for the reason that his food supply is insufficient and his +clothing poor. When they sat on the cracker-boxes and soap-boxes which +served as seats, they spoke. They told him of the chieftain's message. +They said they had come to assist him in driving his cattle back across +the hills; that he must go.</p> + +<p>To all this talk in the Indian's epigrammatic way, and in the dialect +which has never been written, the rancher replied almost as briefly: +"You go back and tell Drifting Crane that I like this place; that I'm +here to stay; that I don't want any help to drive my cattle. I'm on the +lands of the Great Father at Washington, and Drifting Crane ain't got +any say about it. Now that sizes the whole thing up. I ain't got +anything against you nor against him, but I'm a settler; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> that's my +constitution; and now I'm settled I'm going to stay."</p> + +<p>While the Indians discussed his words between themselves he made a bed +of blankets on the floor and said: "I never turn anybody out. A white +man is just as good as an Indian as long as he behaves himself as well. +You can bunk here."</p> + +<p>The Indians didn't understand his words fully, but they did understand +his gesture, and they smiled and accepted the courtesy, so like their +own rude hospitality. Then they all smoked a pipe of tobacco in silence, +and at last Wilson turned in and went serenely off to sleep, hearing the +mutter of the Indians lying before the fire.</p> + +<p>In the morning he gave them as good a breakfast as he had—bacon and +potatoes, with coffee and crackers. Then he shook hands, saying: "Come +again. I ain't got anything against you. You've done y'r duty. Now go +back and tell your chief what I've said. I'm at home every day. Good +day."</p> + +<p>The Indians smiled kindly, and drawing their blankets over their arms, +went away toward the east.</p> + +<p>During April and May two or three reconnoitering parties of land-hunters +drifted over the hills and found him out. He was glad to see them, for, +to tell the truth, the solitude of his life was telling on him. The +winter had been severe, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> +and he had hardly caught a glimpse of a white +face during the three midwinter months, and his provisions were scanty.</p> + +<p>These parties brought great news. One of them was the advance surveying +party for a great Northern railroad, and they said a line of road was to +be surveyed during the summer if their report was favorable.</p> + +<p>"Well, what d'ye think of it?" Wilson asked, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Think! It's immense!" said a small man in the party, whom the rest +called Judge Balser. "Why, they'll be a town of four thousand +inhabitants in this valley before snow flies. We'll send the surveyors +right over the divide next month."</p> + +<p>They sent some papers to Wilson a few weeks later, which he devoured as +a hungry dog might devour a plate of bacon. The papers were full of the +wonderful resources of the Jim Valley. It spoke of the nutritious +grasses for stock. It spoke of the successful venture of the lonely +settler Wilson, how his stock fattened upon the winter grasses without +shelter, etc., what vegetables he grew, etc., etc.</p> + +<p>Wilson was reading this paper for the sixth time one evening in May. He +had laid off his boots, his pipe was freshly filled, and he sat in the +doorway in vast content, unmindful of the glory of color that filled the +western sky, and the superb +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> +evening chorus of the prairie-chickens, +holding conventions on every hillock. He felt something touch him on the +shoulder, and looked up to see a tall Indian gazing down upon him with a +look of strange pride and gravity. Wilson sprang to his feet and held +out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Drifting Crane, how d'e do?"</p> + +<p>The Indian bowed, but did not take the settler's hand. Drifting Crane +would have been called old if he had been a white man, and there was a +look of age in the fixed lines of his powerful, strongly modeled face, +but no suspicion of weakness in the splendid poise of his broad, +muscular body. There was a smileless gravity about his lips and eyes +which was very impressive.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to see you. Come in and get something to eat," said Wilson, +after a moment's pause.</p> + +<p>The chief entered the cabin and took a seat near the door. He took a cup +of milk and some meat and bread silently, and ate while listening to the +talk of the settler.</p> + +<p>"I don't brag on my biscuits, chief, but they <em>eat</em>, if a man is hungry +enough. An' the milk's all right. I suppose you've come to see why I +ain't moseying back over the divide?"</p> + +<p>The chief, after a long pause, began to speak in a low, slow voice, as +if choosing his words. He spoke in broken English, of course, but his +speech was very direct and plain, and had none of those +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> absurd figures +of rhetoric which romancers invariably put into the mouths of Indians. +His voice was almost lion-like in its depth, and yet was not unpleasant. +It was easy to see that he was a chief by virtue of his own personality.</p> + +<p>"Cattleman, my young men brought me bad message from you. They brought +your words to me, saying he will not go away."</p> + +<p>"That's about the way the thing stands," replied Wilson, in response to +the question that was in the old chief's steady eyes. "I'm here to stay. +This ain't your land. This is Uncle Sam's land, and part of it'll be +mine as soon as the surveyors come to measure it off."</p> + +<p>"Who gave it away?" asked the chief. "My people were cheated out of it. +They didn't know what they were doing."</p> + +<p>"I can't help that. That's for Congress to say. That's the business of +the Great Father at Washington." Wilson's voice changed. He knew and +liked the chief; he didn't want to offend him. "They ain't no use making +a fuss, chief. You won't gain anything."</p> + +<p>There was a look of deep sorrow in the old man's face. At last he spoke +again: "The cattleman is welcome; but he must go, because whenever one +white man goes and calls it good, the others come. Drifting Crane has +seen it far in the east, twice. The white men come thick as the grass. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> +They tear up the sod. They build houses. They scare the buffalo away. +They spoil my young men with whisky. Already they begin to climb the +eastern hills. Soon they will fill the valley, and Drifting Crane and +his people will be surrounded. The sod will all be black."</p> + +<p>"I hope you're right," was the rancher's grim reply.</p> + +<p>"But they will not come if the cattleman go back to say the water is not +good. There is no grass, and the Indians own the land."</p> + +<p>Wilson smiled at the childish faith of the chief. "Won't do, +chief—won't do. That won't do any good. I might as well stay."</p> + +<p>The chief rose. He was touched by the settler's laugh; his eyes flashed; +his voice took on a sterner note. "The white man <em>must</em> go!"</p> + +<p>Wilson rose also. He was not a large man, but he was a very resolute +one. "I shan't go!" he said, through his clinched teeth. Each man +understood the tones of the other perfectly.</p> + +<p>It was a thrilling, a significant scene. It was in absolute truth the +meeting of the modern vidette of civilization with one of the rear-guard +of retreating barbarism. Each man was a type; each was wrong, and each +was right. The Indian as true and noble from the barbaric point of view +as the white man. He was a warrior and hunter—made so by circumstances +over which he had no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> +control. Guiltless as the panther, because war to +a savage is the necessity of life.</p> + +<p>The settler represented the unflagging energy and fearless heart of the +American pioneer. Narrow-minded, partly brutalized by hard labor and a +lonely life, yet an admirable figure for all that. As he looked into the +Indian's face he seemed to grow in height. He felt behind him all the +weight of the millions of westward-moving settlers; he stood the +representative of an unborn State. He took down a rifle from the +wall—the magazine rifle, most modern of guns; he patted the stock, +pulled the crank, throwing a shell into view.</p> + +<p>"You know this thing, chief?"</p> + +<p>The Indian nodded slightly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll go when—this—is—empty."</p> + +<p>"But my young men are many."</p> + +<p>"So are the white men—my brothers."</p> + +<p>The chief's head dropped forward. Wilson, ashamed of his boasting, put +the rifle back on the wall.</p> + +<p>"I'm not here to fight. You can kill me any time. You could 'a' killed +me to-night, but it wouldn't do any good. It 'ud only make it worse for +you. Why, they'll be a town in here bigger'n all your tribe before two +grass from now. It ain't no use, Drifting Crane; it's <em>got</em> to be. You +an' I can't help n'r hinder it. I know just how you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span> feel about it, but +I tell yeh it ain't no use to fight."</p> + +<p>Drifting Crane turned his head and gazed out on the western sky, still +red with the light of the fallen sun. His face was rigid as bronze, but +there was a dreaming, prophetic look in his eyes. A lump came into the +settler's throat; for the first time in his life he got a glimpse of the +infinite despair of the Indian. He forgot that Drifting Crane was the +representative of a "vagabond race;" he saw in him, or rather <em>felt</em> in +him, something almost magnetic. He was a <em>man</em>, and a man of sorrows. +The settler's voice was husky when he spoke again, and his lips +trembled.</p> + +<p>"Chief, I'd go to-morrow if it 'ud do any good, but it won't—not a +particle. You know that, when you stop to think a minute. What good did +it do to massa<em>cree</em> all them settlers at New Ulm? What good will it do +to murder me and a hundred others? Not a bit. A thousand others would +take our places. So I might just as well stay, and we might just as well +keep good friends. Killin' is out o' fashion; don't do any good."</p> + +<p>There was a twitching about the stern mouth of the Indian chief. He +understood all too well the irresistible logic of the pioneer. He kept +his martial attitude, but his broad chest heaved painfully, and his eyes +grew dim. At last he said: "Good-by. Cattleman right; Drifting Crane +wrong.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> +Shake hands. Good-by." He turned and strode away.</p> + +<p>The rancher watched him till he mounted his pony, picketed down by the +river; watched him as, with drooping head and rein flung loose upon the +neck of his horse, he rode away into the dusk, hungry, weary and +despairing, to face his problem alone. Again, for the thousandth time, +the impotence of the Indian's arm and the hopelessness of his fate were +shown as perfectly as if two armies had met and soaked the beautiful +prairie sod with blood.</p> + +<p>"This is all wrong," muttered the settler. "There's land enough for us +all, or ought to be. I don't understand——Well, I'll leave it +to Uncle Sam anyway." He ended with a sigh.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + + +<div class="chapter-intro"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> +<a name="PART_VIII." id="PART_VIII."></a><br /><br /><br /></p> +<h2><a href="#Contents">PART VIII.</a></h2> +<p class="chapter-title" style="font-size:160%">OLD DADDY DEERING: +<span style="font-size:90%">THE COUNTRY FIDDLER.</span></p> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> +<table summary="poem"><tr><td> +<p><i><span style="margin-left: 3em">Like Scotland's harper,</span><br /> +Or Irish piper, with his droning lays,<br /> +Before the spread of modern life and light<br /> +The country fiddler slowly disappears</i>.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> +<h2>DADDY DEERING.</h2> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from text]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from text]" /> +</div> +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">They</span> +were threshing on Farmer Jennings' place when Daddy made his very +characteristic appearance. Milton, a boy of thirteen, was gloomily +holding sacks for the measurer, and the glory of the October day was +dimmed by the suffocating dust, and poisoned by the smarting beards and +chaff which had worked their way down his neck. The bitterness of the +dreaded task was deepened also by contrast with the gambols of his +cousin Billy, who was hunting rats with Growler amid the last sheaves of +the stack bottom. The piercing shrieks of Billy, as he clapped his hands +in murderous glee, mingled now and again with the barking of the dog.</p> + +<p>The machine seemed to fill the world with its snarling boom, which +became a deafening yell when the cylinder ran empty for a moment. It was +nearly noon, and the men were working silently, with occasional glances +toward the sun to see how near dinner-time it was. The horses, dripping +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> +with sweat, and with patches of foam under their harness, moved round +and round steadily to the cheery whistle of the driver.</p> + +<p>The wild, imperious song of the bell-metal cog-wheel had sung into +Milton's ears till it had become a torture, and every time he lifted his +eyes to the beautiful far-off sky, where the clouds floated like ships, +a lump of rebellious anger rose in his throat. Why should he work in +this choking dust and deafening noise while the hawks could sail and +sweep from hill to hill with nothing to do but play?</p> + +<p>Occasionally his uncle, the feeder, smiled down upon him, his face black +as a negro, great goggles of glass and wire-cloth covering his merry +eyes. His great good-nature shone out in the flash of his white teeth, +behind his dusky beard, and he tried to encourage Milton with his smile. +He seemed tireless to the other hands. He was so big and strong. He had +always been Milton's boyish hero. So Milton crowded back the tears that +came into his eyes, and would not let his uncle see how childish he was.</p> + +<p>A spectator riding along the road would have remarked upon the lovely +setting for this picturesque scene—the low swells of prairie, shrouded +with faint, misty light from the unclouded sky, the flaming colors of +the trees, the faint sound of cow-bells, and the cheery sound of the +machine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> +But to be a tourist and to be a toiler in a scene like this +are quite different things.</p> + +<p>They were anxious to finish the setting by noon, and so the feeder was +crowding the cylinder to its limit, rolling the grain in with slow and +apparently effortless swaying from side to side, half-buried in the +loose yellow straw. But about eleven o'clock the machine came to a +stand, to wait while a broken tooth was being replaced, and Milton fled +from the terrible dust beside the measuring-spout, and was shaking the +chaff out of his clothing, when he heard a high, snappy, nasal voice +call down from the straw-pile. A tall man, with a face completely masked +in dust, was speaking to Mr. Jennings:</p> + +<p>"Say, young man, I guess you'll haf to send another man up here. It's +poorty stiff work f'r two; yes, sir, poorty stiff."</p> + +<p>"There, there! I thought you'd cry 'cavy,'" laughed Mr. Jennings. "I +told you it wasn't the place for an old man."</p> + +<p>"Old man," snarled the figure in the straw. "I ain't so old but I can +daown you, sir—yessir, condemmit, yessir!"</p> + +<p>"I'm your man," replied Jennings, smiling up at him.</p> + +<p>The man rolled down the side of the stack, disappearing in a cloud of +dust and chaff. When he came to light, Milton saw a tall, gaunt old man +of sixty years of age, or older. Nothing could be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> seen but a dusty +expanse of face, ragged beard, and twinkling, sharp little eyes. His +color was lost, his eyes half hid. Without waiting for ceremony, the men +clinched. The crowd roared with laughter, for though Jennings was the +younger, the older man was a giant still, and the struggle lasted for +some time. He made a gallant fight, but his breath gave out, and he lay +at last flat on his back.</p> + +<p>"I wish I was your age, young man," he said ruefully, as he rose. "I'd +knock the heads o' these young scamps t'gether—yessir!—I could do it, +too!".</p> + +<p>"Talk's a good dog, uncle," said a young man.</p> + +<p>The old man turned on him so ferociously that he fled.</p> + +<p>"Run, condemn yeh! I own y' can beat me at that."</p> + +<p>His face was not unpleasant, though his teeth were mainly gone, and his +skin the color of leather and wrinkled as a pan of cream. His eyes had a +certain sparkle of fun that belied his rasping voice, which seemed to +have the power to lift a boy clean off his feet. His frame was bent and +thin, but of great height and breadth, bony and tough as hickory. At +some far time vast muscles must have rolled on those giant limbs, but +toil had bent and stiffened him.</p> + +<p>"Never been sick a day 'n my life; no, sir!" he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> +said, in his rapid, +rasping, emphatic way, as they were riding across the stubble to dinner. +"And by gol! I c'n stand as long at the tail of a stacker as any man, +sir. Dummed if I turn my hand for any man in the State; no, sir; no, +sir! But if I do two men's works, I am goin' to have two men's +pay—that's all, sir!"</p> + +<p>Jennings laughed and said: "All right, uncle. I'll send another man up +there this afternoon."</p> + +<p>The old man seemed to take a morbid delight in the hard and dirty +places, and his endurance was marvelous. He could stand all day at the +tail of a stacker, tirelessly pushing the straw away with an indifferent +air, as if it were all mere play.</p> + +<p>He measured the grain the next day, because it promised to be a noisier +and dustier job than working in the straw, and it was in this capacity +that Milton came to know and to hate him, and to associate him with that +most hated of all tasks, the holding of sacks. To a twelve-year-old boy +it seems to be the worst job in the world.</p> + +<p>All day while the hawks wheel and dip in the glorious air, and the trees +glow like banks of roses; all day, while the younger boys are tumbling +about the sun-lit straw, to be forced to stand holding sacks, like a +convict, was maddening. Daddy, whose rugged features, bent shoulders and +ragged cap loomed through the suffocating, blinding dust, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> necessarily +came to seem like the jailer who held the door to freedom.</p> + +<p>And when the dust and noise and monotony seemed the very hardest to bear +the old man's cackling laugh was sure to rise above the howl of the +cylinder.</p> + +<p>"Nem mind, sonny! Chaff ain't pizen; dust won't hurt ye a mite." And +when Milton was unable to laugh the old man tweaked his ear with his +leathery thumb and finger.</p> + +<p>Then he shouted long, disconnected yarns, to which Milton could make +neither head nor tail, and which grew at last to be inaudible to him, +just as the steady boom and snarl of the great machine did. Then he fell +to studying the old man's clothes, which were a wonder to him. He spent +a good deal of time trying to discover which were the original sections +of the coat, and especially of the vest, which was ragged and yellow +with age, with the cotton-batting working out; and yet Daddy took the +greatest care of it, folding it carefully and putting it away during the +heat of the day out of reach of the crickets.</p> + +<p>One of his peculiarities, as Mrs. Jennings learned on the second day, +was his habit of coming to breakfast. But he always earned all he got, +and more too; and, as it was probable that his living at home was +frugal, Mrs. Jennings smiled at his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> +thrift, and quietly gave him his +breakfast if he arrived late, which was not often.</p> + +<p>He had bought a little farm not far away, and settled down into a mode +of life which he never afterward changed. As he was leaving at the end +of the third day, he said:</p> + +<p>"Now, sir; if you want any bootcherin' done, I'm y'r man. I don't turn +m' hand over f'r any man in the State; no, sir! I c'n git a hawg on the +gambrils jest a leetle quicker'n any other man I ever see; yes, sir; by +gum!"</p> + +<p>"All right, uncle; I'll send for you when I'm ready to kill."</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">Hog-killing</span> +was one of the events of a boy's life on a Western farm, and +Daddy was destined to be associated in the minds of Shep and Milton with +another disagreeable job, that of building the fire and carrying water.</p> + +<p>It was very early on a keen, biting morning in November when Daddy came +driving into the yard with his rude, long-runnered sled, one horse half +his length behind the other in spite of the driver's clucking. He was +delighted to catch the boys behind in the preparation.</p> + +<p>"A-a-h-h-r-r-h-h!" he rasped out, "you lazy vagabon's? Why ain't you got +that fire blazin'?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> +<span class="shout">What</span> +the devil do y' mean, you rascals! Here it is +broad daylight, and that fire not built. I vum, sir, you need a +thrashin', the whole kit an bilun' of ye; yessir! Come, come, come! +hustle now, stir your boots! hustle y'r boots—Ha! ha! ha!"</p> + +<p>It was of no use to plead cold weather and damp chips.</p> + +<p>"What has that got to do with it, sir? I vum, sir, when I was your age, +I could make a fire of green red-oak; yessir! Don't talk to me of colds! +Stir your stumps and get warm, sir!"</p> + +<p>The old man put up his horses (and fed them generously with oats), and +then went to the house to ask for "a leetle something hot—mince pie or +sassidge." His request was very modest, but, as a matter of fact, he sat +down and ate a very hearty breakfast, while the boys worked away at the +fire under the big kettle.</p> + +<p>The hired man, under Daddy's direction, drew the bob-sleighs into +position on the sunny side of the corn-crib, and arranged the barrel at +the proper slant while the old man ground his knives, Milton turning the +grindstone—another hateful task, which Daddy's stories could not +alleviate.</p> + +<p>Daddy never finished a story. If he started in to tell about a +horse-trade, it infallibly reminded him of a cattle trade, and talking +of cattle switched him off upon logging, and logging reminded him of +some heavy snow-storms he had known. Each +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> +parenthesis outgrew its +proper limits, till he forgot what should have been the main story. His +stories had some compensation, for when he stopped to try to recollect +where he was, the pressure on the grindstone was released.</p> + +<p>At last the water was hot, and the time came to seize the hogs. This was +the old man's great moment. He stood in the pen and shrieked with +laughter while the hired men went rolling, one after the other, upon the +ground, or were bruised against the fence by the rush of the burly +swine.</p> + +<p>"You're a fine lot," he laughed. "Now, then, sir, <em>grab 'im</em>! Why don't +ye nail 'im? I vum, sir, if I couldn't do better'n that, sir, I'd sell +out; I would, sir, by gol! Get out o' the way!"</p> + +<p>With a lofty scorn he waved aside all help and stalked like a gladiator +toward the pigs huddled in one corner of the pen. And when the selected +victim was rushing by him, his long arm and great bony hand swept out, +caught him by the ear and flung him upon his side, squealing with +deafening shrillness. But in spite of his smiling concealment of effort, +Daddy had to lean against the fence and catch his breath even while he +boasted:</p> + +<p>"I'm an old codger, sir, but I'm worth—a dozen o' you—spindle-legged +chaps; dum me if I ain't, sir!"</p> + +<p>His pride in his ability to catch and properly kill a hog was as genuine +as the old knight-errant's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> +pride in his ability to stick a knife into +another steel-clothed brigand like himself. When the slain shote was +swung upon the planking on the sled before the barrel, Daddy rested, +while the boys filled the barrel with water from the kettle.</p> + +<p>There was always a weird charm about this stage of the work to the boys. +The sun shone warm and bright in the lee of the corn-crib; the steam +rose up, white and voluminous, from the barrel; the eaves dropped +steadily; the hens ventured near, nervously, but full of curiosity, +while the men laughed and joked with Daddy, starting him off on long +stories, and winking at each other when his back was turned.</p> + +<p>At last he mounted his planking, selecting Mr. Jennings to pull upon the +other handle of the hog-hook. He considered he conferred a distinct +honor in this selection.</p> + +<p>"The time's been, sir, when I wouldn't thank any man for his help. No, +sir, wouldn't thank 'im."</p> + +<p>"What do you do with these things?" asked one of the men, kicking two +iron candlesticks which the old man laid conveniently near.</p> + +<p>"Scrape a hawg with them, sir? What did y' s'pose, you numbskull?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I never saw anything"——</p> + +<p>"You'll have a chance mighty quick, sir. Grab ahold, sir! Swing 'im +around—there! Now +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> +easy, easy! Now, then, one, two; one, two—that's +right."</p> + +<p>While he dipped the porker in the water, pulling with his companion +rhythmically upon the hook, he talked incessantly, mixing up scraps of +stories and boastings of what he could do, with commands of what he +wanted the other man to do.</p> + +<p> +"The best man I ever worked with. <em>Now turn 'im, turn 'im!</em>" he yelled, +reaching over Jennings' wrist. "Grab under my wrist. There! won't ye +never learn how to turn a hawg? <em>Now, out with 'im!</em>" was his next wild +yell, as the steaming hog was jerked out of the water upon the planking. +"Now try the hair on them ears! Beautiful scald," he said, clutching his +hand full of bristles and beaming with pride. "Never see anything finer. +Here, Bub, a pail of hot water, quick! Try one of them candlesticks! +They ain't no better scraper than the bottom of an old iron candlestick; +no, sir! Dum your new-fangled scrapers! I made a bet once with old Jake +Ridgeway that I could scrape the hair off'n two hawgs, by gum, quicker'n +he could one. Jake was blowin' about a new scraper he had …</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes, dump it right into the barrel. Condemmit! Ain't you got +no gumption?... So Sim Smith, he held the watch. Sim was a mighty good +hand t' work with; he was about the only man I ever sawed with who didn't +ride the saw. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> +He could jerk a cross-cut saw.… Now let him in again, now; +<i>he-ho</i>, once again! <em>Roll him over now</em>; that foreleg needs +a tech o' water. Now out with him again; that's right, that's right! +By gol, a beautiful scald as ever I see!"</p> + +<p>Milton, standing near, caught his eye again. "Clean that ear, sir! What +the devil you standin' there for?" He returned to his story after a +pause. "A—n—d Jake he scraped away—<em>Hyare</em>," +he shouted, suddenly, "don't ruggle the skin like that! Can't you see the +way I do it? Leave it smooth as a baby, sir—yessir!"</p> + +<p>He worked on in this way all day, talking unceasingly, never shirking a +hard job, and scarcely showing fatigue at any moment.</p> + +<p>"I'm short o' breath a leetle, that's all; never git tired, but my wind +gives out. Dum cold got on me, too."</p> + +<p>He ate a huge supper of liver and potatoes, still working away hard at +an ancient horse-trade, and when he drove off at night, he had not yet +finished a single one of the dozen stories he had begun.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">But</span> +pitching grain and hog-killing were on the lower levels of his art, +for above all else Daddy loved to be called upon to play the fiddle for +dances. He "officiated" for the first time at a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> +dance given by one of +the younger McTurgs. They were all fiddlers themselves—had been for +three generations—but they seized the opportunity of helping Daddy and +at the same time of relieving themselves of the trouble of furnishing +the music while the rest danced.</p> + +<p>Milton attended this dance, and saw Daddy for the first time earning his +money pleasantly. From that time on the associations around his +personality were less severe, and they came to like him better. He came +early, with his old fiddle in a time-worn white-pine box. His hair was +neatly combed to the top of his long, narrow head, and his face was very +clean. The boys all greeted him with great pleasure, and asked him where +he would sit.</p> + +<p>"Right on that table, sir; put a chair up there."</p> + +<p>He took his chair on the kitchen-table as if it were a throne. He wore +huge moccasins of moose-hide on his feet, and for special occasions like +this added a paper collar to his red woolen shirt. He took off his coat +and laid it across his chair for a cushion. It was all very funny to the +young people, but they obeyed him laughingly, and while they "formed +on," he sawed his violin and coaxed it up to concert pitch, and twanged +it and banged it into proper tunefulness.</p> + +<p>"A-a-a-ll-ready there!" he rasped out, with prodigious force. "Everybody +git into his place!" +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> +Then, lifting one huge foot, he put the fiddle under his chin, and, +raising his bow till his knuckles touched the strings, he yelled, +"Already, <span class="shout">g'lang</span>!" and brought his foot +down with a startling bang on the first note. <i>Rye doodle doo, +doodle doo.</i></p> + +<p>As he went on and the dancers fell into rhythm, the clatter of heavy +boots seemed to thrill him with old-time memories, and he kept +boisterous time with his foot while his high, rasping nasal rang high +above the confusion of tongues and heels and swaying forms.</p> + +<p>"<em>Ladies</em>' gran' change! <span class="shout">Four</span> hands +round! <em>Bal</em>-ance all! <em>Elly</em>-man left! Back to play-cis."</p> + +<p>His eyes closed in a sort of intoxication of pleasure, but he saw all +that went on in some miraculous way.</p> + +<p>"<em>First</em> lady lead to the right—<i>toodle rum rum! Gent</i> +foller after (step along thar)! Four hands round"——</p> + +<p>The boys were immensely pleased with him. They delighted in his antics +rather than in his tunes, which were exceedingly few and simple. They +seemed never to be able to get enough of one tune which he called +"Honest John," and which he played in his own way, accompanied by a +chant which he meant, without doubt, to be musical.</p> + +<p>"<span class="shout">Hon</span>-ers tew your pardners—<i>tee +teedle deedle dee dee dee dee!</i> Stand up straight an' put on your +style! <em>Right</em> an' left four"——</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> +The hat was passed by the floor-manager during the evening, and Daddy +got nearly three dollars, which delighted Milton very much.</p> + +<p>At supper he insisted on his prerogative, which was to take the +prettiest girl out to supper.</p> + +<p>"Look-a-here, Daddy, ain't that crowdin' the mourners?" objected the +others.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, sir? No, sir! Always done it, in Michigan and +Yark State both; yes, sir."</p> + +<p>He put on his coat ceremoniously, while the tittering girls stood about +the room waiting. He did not delay. His keen eyes had made selection +long before, and, approaching Rose Watson with old-fashioned, elaborate +gallantry, he said: "<em>May</em> I have the pleasure?" and marched out +triumphantly, amidst shouts of laughter.</p> + +<p>His shrill laugh rang high above the rest at the table, as he said: "I'm +the youngest man in this crowd, sir! Demmit, I bet a hat I c'n dance +down any man in this crowd; yes, sir. The old man can do it yet."</p> + +<p>They all took sides in order to please him.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet he can," said Hugh McTurg; "I'll bet a dollar on Daddy."</p> + +<p>"I'll take the bet," said Joe Randall, and with great noise the match +was arranged to come the first thing after supper.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> +"All right, sir; any time, sir. I'll let you know the old man is on +earth yet."</p> + +<p>While the girls were putting away the supper dishes, the young man lured +Daddy out into the yard for a wrestling-match, but some of the others +objected.</p> + +<p>"Oh, now, that won't do! If Daddy was a young man"——</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, sir? I am young enough for you, sir. Just let me get +ahold o' you, sir, and I'll show you, you young rascal! you dem +jackanapes!" he ended, almost shrieking with rage, as he shook his fist +in the face of his grinning tormentors.</p> + +<p>The others held him back with much apparent alarm, and ordered the other +fellows away.</p> + +<p>"There, there, Daddy, I wouldn't mind him! I wouldn't dirty my hands on +him; he ain't worth it. Just come inside, and we'll have that +dancing-match now."</p> + +<p>Daddy reluctantly returned to the house, and, having surrendered his +violin to Hugh McTurg, was ready for the contest. As he stepped into the +middle of the room he was not altogether ludicrous. His rusty trousers +were bagged at the knee, and his red woolen stockings showed between the +tops of his moccasins and his pantaloon-legs; and his coat, utterly +characterless as to color and cut, added to the stoop in his shoulders, +and yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> +there was a rude sort of grace and a certain dignity about his +bearing which kept down laughter. They were to have a square dance of +the old-fashioned sort.</p> + +<p> +"<em>Farrm</em> on," he cried, and the fiddler struck out the first note of the +Virginia Reel. Daddy led out Rose, and the dance began. He straightened +up till his tall form towered above the rest of the boys like a +weather-beaten pine-tree, as he balanced and swung and led and called +off the changes with a voice full of imperious command.</p> + +<p>The fiddler took a malicious delight toward the last in quickening the +time of the good old dance, and that put the old man on his mettle.</p> + +<p>"Go it, ye young rascal!" he yelled. He danced like a boy and yelled +like a demon, catching a laggard here and there, and hurling them into +place like tops, while he kicked and stamped, wound in and out and waved +his hands in the air with a gesture which must have dated back to the +days of Washington. At last, flushed, breathless, but triumphant, he +danced a final break-down to the tune of "Leather Breeches," to show he +was unsubdued.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">But</span> +these rare days passed away. As the country grew older it lost the +wholesome simplicity of pioneer days, and Daddy got a chance to play but +seldom. He no longer pleased the boys and girls—his music was too +monotonous and too simple. He felt this very deeply. Once in a while he +broke out to some of the old neighbors in protest against the changes.</p> + +<p>"The boys I used to trot on m' knee are gittin' too high-toned. They +wouldn't be found dead with old Deering, and then the preachers are +gittin' thick, and howlin' agin dancin', and the country's filling up +with Dutchmen, so't I'm left out."</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, there were few homes now where Daddy could sit on +the table, in his ragged vest and rusty pantaloons, and play "Honest +John," while the boys thumped about the floor. There were few homes +where the old man was even a welcome visitor, and he felt this rejection +keenly. The women got tired of seeing him about, because of his +uncleanly habits of spitting and his tiresome stories. Many of the old +neighbors had died or moved away, and the young people had gone West or +to the cities. Men began to pity him rather than laugh at him, which +hurt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> +him more than their ridicule. They began to favor him at threshing +or at the fall hog-killing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're getting old, Daddy; you'll have to give up this heavy work. +Of course, if you feel able to do it, why, all right! Like to have you +do it, but I guess we'll have to have a man to do the heavy lifting, I +s'pose."</p> + +<p>"I s'pose not, sir! I am jest as able to yank a hawg as ever, sir; yes, +sir, demmit—demmit! Do you think I've got one foot in the grave?"</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Daddy often failed to come to time on appointed days, and +it was painful to hear him trying to explain, trying to make light of it +all.</p> + +<p>"M' caugh wouldn't let me sleep last night. A gol-dum leetle, nasty, +ticklin' caugh, too; but it kept me awake, fact was, an'—well, m' wife, +she said I hadn't better come. But don't you worry, sir; it won't happen +again, sir; no, sir."</p> + +<p>His hands got stiffer year by year, and his simple tunes became +practically a series of squeaks and squalls. There came a time when the +fiddle was laid away almost altogether, for his left hand got caught in +the cog-wheels of the horse-power, and all four of the fingers on that +hand were crushed. Thereafter he could only twang a little on the +strings. It was not long after this that he struck his foot with the ax +and lamed himself for life.</p> + +<p>As he lay groaning in bed, Mr. Jennings went +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> +in to see him and tried to +relieve the old man's feelings by telling him the number of times he had +practically cut his feet off, and said he knew it was a terrible hard +thing to put up with.</p> + +<p>"Gol dummit, it ain't the pain," the old sufferer yelled, "it's the dum +awkwardness. I've chopped all my life; I can let an ax in up to the +maker's name, and hew to a hair-line; yes, sir! It was jest them dum new +mittens my wife made; they was s' slippery," he ended, with a groan.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the one accident hinged upon the other. It was the +failure of his left hand, with its useless fingers, to do its duty, that +brought the ax down upon his foot. The pain was not so much physical as +mental. To think that he, who could hew to a hair-line, right and left +hand, should cut his own foot like a ten-year-old boy—that scared him. +It brought age and decay close to him. For the first time in his life he +felt that he was fighting a losing battle.</p> + +<p>A man like this lives so much in the flesh that when his limbs begin to +fail him, everything else seems slipping away. He had gloried in his +strength. He had exulted in the thrill of his life-blood and in the +swell of his vast muscles; he had clung to the idea that he was strong +as ever, till this last blow came upon him, and then he began to think +and to tremble.</p> + +<p>When he was able to crawl about again, he was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> +not the same man. He was +gloomy and morose, snapping and snarling at all that came near him, like +a wounded bear. He was alone a great deal of the time during the winter +following his hurt. Neighbors seldom went in, and for weeks he saw no +one but his hired hand, and the faithful, dumb little old woman, his +wife, who moved about without any apparent concern or sympathy for his +suffering. The hired hand, whenever he called upon the neighbors, or +whenever questions were asked, said that Daddy hung around over the +stove most of the time, paying no attention to any one or anything. "He +ain't dangerous 'tall," he said, meaning that Daddy was not dangerously +ill.</p> + +<p>Milton rode out from school one winter day with Bill, the hand, and was +so much impressed with his story of Daddy's condition that he rode home +with him. He found the old man sitting bent above the stove, wrapped in +a quilt, shivering and muttering to himself. He hardly looked up when +Milton spoke to him, and seemed scarcely to comprehend what he said.</p> + +<p>Milton was much alarmed at the terrible change, for the last time he had +seen him he had towered above him, laughingly threatening to "warm his +jacket," and now here he sat, a great hulk of flesh, his mind flickering +and flaring under every wind of suggestion, soon to go out altogether.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> +In reply to questions he only muttered with a trace of his old spirit: +"I'm all right. Jest as good a man as I ever was, only I'm cold. I'll be +all right when spring comes, so 't I c'n git outdoors. Somethin' to warm +me up, yessir; I'm cold, that's all."</p> + +<p>The young fellow sat in awe before him, but the old wife and Bill moved +about the room, taking very little interest in what the old man said or +did. Bill at last took down the violin. "I'll wake him up," he said. +"This always fetches the old feller. Now watch 'im."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't do that!" Milton said, in horror. But Bill drew the bow +across the strings in the same way that Daddy always did when tuning up.</p> + +<p>He lifted his head as Bill dashed into "Honest John," in spite of +Milton's protest. He trotted his feet after a little and drummed with +his hands on the arms of his chair, then smiled a little in a pitiful +way. Finally he reached out his right hand for the violin and took it +into his lap. He tried to hold the neck with his poor, old, mutilated +left hand and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Don't you do that again, Bill," Milton said. "It's better for him to +forget that. Now you take the best care of him you can to-night. I don't +think he's going to live long; I think you ought to go for the doctor +right off."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's been like this for the last two weeks; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span> +he ain't sick, he's +jest old, that's all," replied Bill, brutally.</p> + +<p>And the old lady, moving about without passion and without speech, +seemed to confirm this; and yet Milton was unable to get the picture of +the old man out of his mind. He went home with a great lump in his +throat.</p> + +<hr class="break" /> + +<p>The next morning, while they were at breakfast, Bill burst wildly into +the room.</p> + +<p>"Come over there, all of you; we want you."</p> + +<p>They all looked up much scared. "What's the matter, Bill?"</p> + +<p>"Daddy's killed himself," said Bill, and turned to rush back, followed +by Mr. Jennings and Milton.</p> + +<p>While on the way across the field Bill told how it all happened.</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't go to bed, the old lady couldn't make him, and when I got +up this morning I didn't think nothin' about it. I s'posed, of course, +he'd gone to bed all right, but when I was going out to the barn I +stumbled across something in the snow, and I felt around, and there he +was. He got hold of my revolver someway. It was on the shelf by the +washstand, and I s'pose he went out there so 't we wouldn't hear him." +"I dassn't touch him," he said, with a shiver; "and the old woman, she +jest slumped down in a chair an set +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> +there—wouldn't do a thing—so I come over to see you."</p> + +<p>Milton's heart swelled with remorse. He felt guilty because he had not +gone directly for the doctor. To think that the old sufferer had killed +himself was horrible and seemed impossible.</p> + +<p>The wind was blowing the snow, cold and dry, across the yard, but the +sun shone brilliantly upon the figure in the snow as they came up to it. +There Daddy lay. The snow was in his scant hair and in the hollow of his +vast, half-naked chest. A pistol was in his hand, but there was no mark +upon him, and Milton's heart leaped with quick relief. It was delirium, +not suicide.</p> + +<p>There was a sort of majesty in the figure half-buried in the snow. His +hands were clenched, and there was a frown of resolution on his face, as +if he had fancied Death coming and had gone defiantly forth to meet +him.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div class="chapter-intro"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> +<a name="PART_IX." id="PART_IX."></a><br /><br /><br /></p> +<h2><a href="#Contents">PART IX.</a></h2> +<p class="chapter-title" style="font-size:160%">THE SOCIABLE AT DUDLEY'S: +<span style="font-size:90%">DANCING THE "WEEVILY WHEAT."</span></p> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf leading verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> +<table summary="poem"><tr><td> +<p style="font-style: italic"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Good night, Lettie!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Goodnight, Ben!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">(The moon is sinking at the west.)</span><br /> +"Good night, my sweetheart." Once again<br /> +The parting kiss, while comrades wait<br /> +Impatient at the roadside gate,<br /> +And the red moon sinks beyond the west.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf following verse in chapter introduction]" /> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> +<h2>THE SOCIABLE AT DUDLEY'S.</h2> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from text]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from text]" /> +</div> + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">John Jennings</span> +was not one of those men who go to a donation party with +fifty cents' worth of potatoes and eat and carry away two dollars' worth +of turkey and jelly-cake. When he drove his team around to the front +door for Mrs. Jennings, he had a sack of flour and a quarter of a fine +fat beef in his sleigh and a five-dollar bill in his pocket-book, a +contribution to Elder Wheat's support.</p> + +<p>Milton, his twenty-year-old son, was just driving out of the yard, +seated in a fine new cutter, drawn by a magnificent gray four-year-old +colt. He drew up as Mr. Jennings spoke.</p> + +<p>"Now be sure and don't never leave him a minute untied. And see that the +harness is all right. Do you hear, Milton?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I hear!" answered the young fellow, rather impatiently, for he +thought himself old enough and big enough to look out for himself.</p> + +<p>"Don't race, will y', Milton?" was his mother's anxious question from +the depth of her shawls.</p> + +<p>"Not if I can help it," was his equivocal response as he chirruped to +Marc Antony. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> +grand brute made a rearing leap that brought a cry +from the mother and a laugh from the young driver, and swung into the +road at a flying pace. The night was clear and cold, the sleighing +excellent, and the boy's heart was full of exultation.</p> + +<p>It was a joy just to control such a horse as he drew rein over that +night. Large, with the long, lithe body of a tiger and the broad, clear +limbs of an elk, the gray colt strode away up the road, his hoofs +flinging a shower of snow over the dasher. The lines were like steel +rods; the sleigh literally swung by them; the traces hung slack inside +the thills. The bells clashed out a swift clamor; the runners seemed to +hiss over the snow as the duck-breasted cutter swung round the curves +and softly rose and fell along the undulating road.</p> + +<p>On either hand the snow stood billowed against the fences and amid the +wide fields of corn-stalks bleached in the wind. Over in the east, above +the line of timber skirting Cedar Creek, the vast, slightly gibbous moon +was rising, sending along the crusted snow a broad path of light. Other +sleighs could be heard through the still, cold air. Far away a party of +four or five were singing a chorus as they spun along the road.</p> + +<p>Something sweet and unnamable was stirring in the young fellow's brain +as he spun along in the marvelously still and radiant night. He wished +Eileen were with him. The vast and cloudless +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> +blue vault of sky +glittered with stars, which even the radiant moon could not dim. Not a +breath of air was stirring save that made by the swift, strong stride of +the horse.</p> + +<p>It was a night for youth and love and bells, and Milton felt this +consciously, and felt it by singing:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p> +"Stars of the summer night,<br /> +Hide in your azure deeps,—<br /> +She sleeps—my lady sleeps." +</p></div> + +<p>He was on his way to get Bettie Moss, one of his old sweethearts, who +had become more deeply concerned with the life of Edwin Blackler. He had +taken the matter with sunny philosophy even before meeting Eileen +Deering at the Seminary, and he was now on his way to bring about peace +between Ed and Bettie, who had lately quarreled. Incidentally he +expected to enjoy the sleigh-ride.</p> + +<p>"Stiddy, boy! Ho, boy! <em>Stiddy</em>, old fellow," he called soothingly to +Marc, as he neared the gate and whirled up to the door. A girl came to +the door as he drove up, her head wrapped in a white hood, a shawl on +her arms. She had been waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Milt. That you?"</p> + +<p>"It's me. Been waiting?"</p> + +<p>"I should say I had. Begun t' think you'd gone back on me. Everybody +else's gone."</p> + +<p>"Well! Hop in here before you freeze; we'll not be the last ones there. +Yes, bring the shawl;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> +you'll need it t' keep the snow off your face," +he called, authoritatively.</p> + +<p>"'Tain't snowin', is it?" she asked as she shut the door and came to the +sleigh's side.</p> + +<p>"Clear as a bell," he said as he helped her in.</p> + +<p>"Then where'll the snow come from?"</p> + +<p>"From Marc's heels."</p> + +<p>"Goodness sakes! you don't expect me t' ride after <em>that</em> wild-headed +critter, do you?"</p> + +<p>His answer was a chirp which sent Marc half-way to the gate before +Bettie could catch her breath. The reins stiffened in his hands. Bettie +clung to him, shrieking at every turn in the road.</p> + +<p>"Milton Jennings, if you tip us over, I'll"——</p> + +<p>Milton laughed, drew the colt down to a steady, swift stride, and Bettie +put her hands back under the robe.</p> + +<p>"I wonder who that is ahead?" he asked after a few minutes, which +brought them in sound of bells.</p> + +<p>"I guess it's Cy Hurd; it sounded like his bells when he went past. I +guess it's him and Bill an' Belle an' Cad Hines."</p> + +<p>"Expect to see Ed there?" asked Milton after a little pause.</p> + +<p>"I don't care whether I ever see him again or not," she snapped.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you do!" he answered, feeling somehow her insincerity.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> +"Well—I don't!"</p> + +<p>Milton didn't care to push the peace-making any further. However, he had +curiosity enough to ask, "What upset things 'tween you 'n Ed?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing."</p> + +<p>"You mean none o' my business?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say so."</p> + +<p>"No, you didn't need to," he laughed, and she joined in.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's Cy Hurd. I know that laugh of his far's I c'n hear it," +said Bettie as they jingled along. "I wonder who's with him?"</p> + +<p>"We'll mighty soon see," said Milton, as he wound the lines around his +hands and braced his feet, giving a low whistle, which seemed to run +through the colt's blood like fire. His stride did not increase in rate, +but its reach grew majestic as he seemed to lengthen and lower. His +broad feet flung great disks of hard-packed snow over the dasher, and +under the clash of his bells the noise of the other team grew plainer.</p> + +<p>"Get out of the way," sang Milton, as he approached the other team. +There was challenge and exultation in his tone.</p> + +<p>"Hello! In a hurry?" shouted those in front, without increasing their +own pace.</p> + +<p>"Ya-as, something of a hurry," drawled Milton in a disguised voice.</p> + +<p>"Wa-al? Turn out an' go by if you are."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> +"No, thankee, I'll just let m' nag nibble the hay out o' your box an' +take it easy."</p> + +<p>"Sure o' that?"</p> + +<p>"You bet high I am." Milton nudged Bettie, who was laughing with +delight. "It's Bill an' his bays. He thinks there isn't a team in the +country can keep up with him. Get out o' the way there!" he shouted +again. "I'm in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"Let 'em out! Let 'em out, Bill," they heard Cy say, and the bays sprang +forward along the level road, the bells ringing like mad, the snow +flying, the girls screaming at every lurch of the sleighs. But Marc's +head still shook haughtily above the end-gate; still the foam from his +lips fell upon the hay in the box ahead.</p> + +<p>"Git out o' this! Yip!" yelled Bill to his bays, but Marc merely made a +lunging leap and tugged at the lines as if asking for more liberty. +Milton gave him his head and laughed to see the great limbs rise and +fall like the pistons of an engine. They swept over the weeds like a +hawk skimming the stubble of a wheat field.</p> + +<p>"Get out o' the way or I'll run right over your back," yelled Milton +again.</p> + +<p>"Try it," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Grab hold of me, Bettie, and lean to the right. When we turn this +corner I'm going to take the inside track and pass 'em."</p> + +<p>"You'll tip us over"——</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> +"No, I won't! Do as I tell you."</p> + +<p>They were nearing a wide corner, where the road turned to the right and +bore due south through the woods. Milton caught sight of the turn, gave +a quick twist of the lines around his hands, leaned over the dasher and +spoke shrilly:</p> + +<p>"Git out o' this, Marc!"</p> + +<p>The splendid brute swerved to the right and made a leap that seemed to +lift the sleigh and all into the air. The snow flew in such stinging +showers Milton could see nothing. The sleigh was on one runner, heeling +like a yacht in a gale; the girl was clinging to his neck; he could hear +the bells of the other sleigh to his left; Marc was passing them; he +heard shouts and the swish of a whip. Another convulsive effort of the +gray, and then Milton found himself in the road again, in the moonlight, +where the apparently unwearied horse, with head out-thrust, nostril +wide-blown and body squared, was trotting like a veteran on the track. +The team was behind.</p> + +<p>"Stiddy, boy!"</p> + +<p>Milton soothed Marc down to a long, easy pace; then turned to Bettie, +who had uncovered her face again.</p> + +<p>"How d' y' like it?"</p> + +<p>"My sakes! I don't want any more of that. If I'd 'a' known you was goin' +t' drive like that I wouldn't 'a' come. You're worse'n Ed. I expected +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span> +every minute we'd be down in the ditch. But, oh! ain't he jest +splendint?" she added, in admiration of the horse.</p> + +<p>"Don't y' want to drive him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; let me try. I drive our teams."</p> + +<p>She took the lines, and at Milton's suggestion wound them around her +hands. She looked very pretty with the moon shining on her face, her +eyes big and black with excitement, and Milton immediately put his arm +around her and laid his head on her shoulder.</p> + +<p> "Milton Jennings, you don't"——</p> + +<p>"Look out," he cried in mock alarm, "don't you drop those lines!" He +gave her a severe hug.</p> + +<p>"Milton Jennings, you let go me!"</p> + +<p>"That's what you said before."</p> + +<p>"Take these lines."</p> + +<p>"Can't do it," he laughed; "my hands are cold. Got to warm them, see?" He +pulled off his mitten and put his icy hand under her chin. The horse was +going at a tremendous pace again.</p> + +<p>"O-o-o-oh! If you don't take these lines I'll drop 'em, so there!"</p> + +<p>"Don't y' do it," he called warningly, but she did, and boxed his ears +soundly while he was getting Marc in hand again. Bettie's rage was +fleeting as the blown breath from Marc's nostrils, and when Milton +turned to her again all was as if his deportment had been grave and +cavalier.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span> +The stinging air made itself felt, and they drew close under their huge +buffalo robes as Marc strode steadily forward. The dark groves fell +behind, the clashing bells marked the rods and miles and kept time to +the songs they hummed.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p> +"Jingle, bells! Jingle, bells!<br /> +Jingle all the way.<br /> +Oh, what joy it is to ride<br /> +In a one-horse open sleigh."</p> +</div> + +<p>They overtook another laughing, singing load of young folks—a great +wood sleigh packed full with boys and girls, two and two—hooded girls, +and boys with caps drawn down over their ears. A babel of tongues arose +from the sweeping, creaking bob-sleigh, and rose into the silent air +like a mighty peal of laughter.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> + +<div class="minor" /> +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">A school-house</span> +set beneath the shelter of great oaks was the center of +motion and sound. On one side of it the teams stood shaking their bells +under their insufficient blankets, making a soft chorus of fitful trills +heard in the pauses of the merry shrieks of the boys playing "pom-pom +pullaway" across the road before the house, which radiated light and +laughter. A group of young men stood on the porch as Milton drove up.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span> +"Hello, Milt," said a familiar voice as he reined Marc close to the +step.</p> + +<p>"That you, Shep?"</p> + +<p>"Chuss, it's me," replied Shep.</p> + +<p>"How'd you know me so far off?"</p> + +<p>"Puh! Don't y' s'pose I know that horse an' those bells—Miss Moss, +allow me"——He helped her out with elaborate courtesy. "The supper +and the old folks are <em>here</em>, and the girls and boys and the fun is +over to Dudley's," he explained as he helped Bettie out.</p> + +<p>"I'll be back soon's I put my horse up," said Milton to Bettie. "You go +in and get good 'n' warm, and then we'll go over to the house."</p> + +<p>"I saved a place in the barn for you, Milt. I knew you'd never let Marc +stand out in the snow," said Shephard as he sprang in beside Milton.</p> + +<p>"I knew you would. What's the news? Is Ed here t'night?"</p> + +<p>"Yeh-up. On deck with S'fye Kinney. It'll make him <em>swear</em> when he finds +out who Bettie come with."</p> + +<p>"Let him. Are the Yohe boys here?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. They're alwiss on hand, like a sore thumb. Bill's been drinking, +and is likely to give Ed trouble. He never'll give Bettie up without a +fight. Look out he don't jump onto <em>your</em> neck."</p> + +<p>"No danger o' that," said Milton coolly.</p> + +<p>The Yohe boys were strangers in the neighborhood. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> They had come in with +the wave of harvest help from the South and had stayed on into the +winter, making few friends and a large number of enemies among the young +men of "the crick." Everybody admitted that they had metal in them, for +they instantly paid court to the prettiest girls in the neighborhood, +without regard to any prior claims.</p> + +<p>And the girls were attracted by these Missourians, their air of +mysterious wickedness and their muscular swagger, precisely as a flock +of barnyard fowl are interested in the strange bird thrust among them.</p> + +<p>But the Southerners had muscles like wild-cats, and their feats of broil +and battle commanded a certain respectful consideration. In fact, most +of the young men of the district were afraid of the red-faced, bold-eyed +strangers, one of the few exceptions being Milton, and another Shephard +Watson, his friend and room-mate at the Rock River Seminary. Neither of +these boys being at all athletic, it was rather curious that Bill and +Joe Yohe should treat them with so much consideration.</p> + +<p>Bill was standing before the huge cannon stove, talking with Bettie, +when Milton and Shephard returned to the school-house. The man's hard, +black eyes were filled with a baleful fire, and his wolfish teeth shone +through his long red mustache. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span> +It made Milton mutter under his breath +to see how innocently Bettie laughed with him. She never dreamed and +could not have comprehended the vileness of the man's whole life and +thought. No lizard reveled in the mud more hideously than he. His +conversation reeked with obscenity. His tongue dropped poison each +moment when among his own sex, and his eye blazed it forth when in the +presence of women.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Bill," said Milton, with easy indifference. "How goes it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, 'bout so-so. You rather got ahead o' me t'night, didn't yeh?"</p> + +<p>"Well, rather. The man that gets ahead o' me has got t' drive a good +team, eh?" He looked at Bettie.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to try it," said Bill.</p> + +<p>"Well, let's go across the road," said Milton to Bettie, anxious to get +her out of the way of Bill.</p> + +<p>They had to run the gauntlet of the whooping boys outside, but Bettie +proved too fleet of foot for them all.</p> + +<p>When they entered the Dudley house opposite, her cheeks were hot with +color, but the roguish gleam in her eyes changed to a curiously haughty +and disdainful look as she passed Blackler, who stood desolately beside +the door, looking awkward and sullen.</p> + +<p>Milton was a great favorite, and he had no time +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> to say anything more to +Bettie as peace-maker. He reached Ed as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>"Ed, what's up between you and Bettie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. I can't find out," Blackler replied, and he spurred +himself desperately into the fun.</p> + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p><span class="first-word">"It'll</span> +make Ed Blackler squirm t' see Betsey come in on Milt Jennings' +arm," said Bill to Shephard after Milton went out.</p> + +<p>"Wal, chuss. I denk it will." Shephard was looking round the room, where +the old people were noisily eating supper, and the steaming oysters and +the cold chicken's savory smell went to his heart. One of the motherly +managers of the feast bustled up to him.</p> + +<p>"Shephard, you c'n run over t' the house an' tell the young folks that +they can come over t' supper about eight o'clock; that'll be in a half +an hour. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so hungry! Can't y' give me a hunk o' chicken t' stay m' +stomach?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Councill laughed. "I'll fish you out a drumstick," she said. And he +went away, gnawing upon it hungrily. Bill went with him, still belching +forth against Blackler.</p> + +<p>"Jim said he heard <em>he</em> said he'd slap my face f'r +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> +a cent. I wish he would. I'd lick the life out of 'im in a minnit."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you pitch into Milt? He's got her now. He's the one y'd orto +be dammin'."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he don't mean nothin' by it. He don't care for her. I saw him down +to town at the show with the girl he's after. He's jest makin' Ed mad."</p> + +<p>A game of "Copenhagen" was going on as they entered. Bettie was in the +midst of it, but Milton, in the corner, was looking on and talking with +a group of those who had outgrown such games.</p> + +<p>The ring of noisy, flushed and laughter-intoxicated young people filled +the room nearly to the wall, and round and round the ring flew Bettie, +pursued by Joe Yohe.</p> + +<p>"Go it, Joe!" yelled Bill.</p> + +<p>"You're good f'r 'im," yelled Shephard.</p> + +<p>Milton laughed and clapped his hands. "Hot foot, Bettie!"</p> + +<p>Like another Atalanta, the superb young girl sped, now dodging through +the ring, now doubling as her pursuer tried to catch her by turning +back. At last she made the third circuit, and, breathless and laughing, +took her place in the line. But Joe rushed upon her, determined to steal +a kiss anyhow.</p> + +<p>"H'yare! H'yare! None o' that."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> +"That's no fair," cried the rest, and he was caught by a dozen hands.</p> + +<p>"She didn't go round three times," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she did," cried a dozen voices.</p> + +<p>"You shut up," he retorted, brutally, looking at Ed Blackler, who had +not spoken at all. Ed glared back, but said nothing. Bettie ignored Ed, +and the game went on.</p> + +<p>"There's going to be trouble here to-night," said Milton to Shephard.</p> + +<p>Shephard, as the ring dissolved, stepped into the middle of the room and +flourished his chicken-leg as if it were a baton. After the burst of +laughter, his sonorous voice made itself heard.</p> + +<p>"Come to supper! Everybody take his girl if he can, and if he can't—get +the other feller's girl."</p> + +<p>Bill Yohe sprang toward Bettie, but Milton had touched her on the arm.</p> + +<p>"Not t'night, Bill," he grinned.</p> + +<p>Bill grinned in reply and made off toward another well-known belle, Ella +Pratt, who accepted his escort. Ed Blackler, with gloomy desperation, +took Maud Buttles, the most depressingly plain girl in the room, an +action that did not escape Bettie's eyes, and which softened her heart +toward him; but she did not let him see it.</p> + +<p>Supper was served on the desks, each couple seated in the drab-colored +wooden seats as if they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> +were at school. A very comfortable arrangement +for those who occupied the back seats, but torture to the adults who +were obliged to cramp their legs inside the desk where the primer class +sat on school-days.</p> + +<p>Bettie saw with tenderness how devotedly poor Ed served Maud. He could +not have taken a better method of heaping coals of fire on her head.</p> + +<p>Ed was entirely unconscious of her softening, however, for he could not +look around from where he sat. He heard her laughing and believed she +was happy. He had not taken poor Maud for the purpose of showing his +penitence, for he had no such feeling in his heart; he was, on the +contrary, rather gloomy and reckless. He was not in a mood to show a +front of indifference.</p> + +<p>The oysters steamed; the heels of the boys' boots thumped in wild +delight; the women bustled about; the girls giggled, and the men roared +with laughter. Everybody ate as if he and she had never tasted +oyster-soup and chicken before, and the cakes and pies went the way of +the oyster-soup like corn before a troup of winter turkeys.</p> + +<p>Bill Yohe, by way of a joke, put some frosting down the back of Cy Hurd, +and, by way of delicate attention to Ella, alternately shoved her out of +the seat and pulled her back again, while Joe hurled a chicken-leg at +Cad Hines as she stood in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> +the entry-way. Will Kinney told Sary Hines +for the fourth time how his team had run away, interrupted by his fear +that some kind of pie would get away untasted.</p> + +<p>"An' so I laid the lines down—H'yare! Gimme another handful of +crackers, Merry—an' I laid the lines down while I went t' fine—nary a +noyster I can hold any more. Mrs. Moss, I'm ready f'r pie now—an' so I +noticed ole Frank's eye kind o' roll, but thinksi, I c'n git holt o' the +lines if he—Yes'm, I alwiss eat mince; won't you try some, +Sary?—an'—an'—so, jest as I gut my ax—You bet! I'm goin' t' try a +piece of every kind if it busts my stummick. Gutta git my money's +worth."</p> + +<p>Milton was in his best mood and was very attractive in his mirth. His +fine teeth shone and his yellow curls shook under the stress of his +laughter. He wrestled with Bettie for the choice bits of cake, +delighting in the touch of her firm, sweet flesh; and, as for Bettie, +she was almost charmed to oblivion of Ed by the superior attractions of +Milton's town-bred gallantry. Ed looked singularly awkward and lonesome +as he sat sprawled out in one of the low seats, and curiously enough his +uncouthness and disconsolateness of attitude won her heart back again.</p> + +<p>Everybody, with the usual rustic freedom, had remarks to make upon the +situation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span> +"Wal, Bettie, made a swop, hev yeh?" said Councill.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Milt; thought you had a girl down town."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I keep one at each end of the line," Milton replied, with his ready +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Wal, I swan t' gudgeon! I can't keep track o' you town fellers. You're +too many f'r me!" said Mrs. Councill.</p> + +<p>Carrie Hines came up behind Milton and Bettie and put her arms around +their necks, bringing their cheeks together. Bettie grew purple with +anger and embarrassment, but Milton, with his usual readiness, said, +"Thank you," and reached for the tittering malefactor's waist. Nobody +noticed it, for the room was full of such romping.</p> + +<p>The men were standing around the stove discussing political outlooks, +and the matrons were busy with the serving of the supper. Out of doors +the indefatigable boys were beginning again on "pom-pom pullaway."</p> + +<p>Supper over, the young folks all returned to the house across the way, +leaving the men of elderly blood to talk on the Grange and the +uselessness of the middlemen. Sport began again in the Dudley farm-house +by a dozen or so of the young people "forming on" for "Weevily Wheat."</p> + +<p>"Weevily Wheat" was a "donation dance." As it would have been wicked to +have a fiddle to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span> +play the music, singers were substituted with stirring +effect, and a song was sung, while the couples bowed and balanced and +swung in rhythm to it:</p> + +<div style="margin:auto; width:20em; text-indent:-.5em; font-size:small;"> +<p>"Come <em>hither</em>, my love, and <em>trip</em> together<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">In the morning early.</span><br /> +I'll give to <em>you</em> the parting hand,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Although I love you dearly.</span><br /> +But I <em>won't</em> have none of y'r weevily wheat,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">An' I <em>won't</em> have <em>none</em> of y'r barley,</span><br /> +But have some flour in a half an hour<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To bake a cake for Charley.</span></p> +<p> +"Oh, Charley, <em>he</em> is a fine young man;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Charley, he is a dandy.</span><br /> +Oh, Charley, <em>he's</em> a fine young man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">F'r he buys the girls some candy.</span><br /> +Oh, I <em>won't</em> have none o' y'r weevily wheat,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">I won't have <em>none</em> o' y'r barley,</span><br /> +But have some flour in a half an hour<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To bake a cake for Charley.</span></p> +<p> +"Oh, Charley, he's," etc.</p></div> + +<p>Milton was soon in the thick of this most charming old-fashioned dance, +which probably dates back to dances on the green in England or Norway. +Bettie was a good dancer, and as she grew excited with the rhythm and +swing of the quaint, plaintive music her form grew supple at the waist +and her large limbs light. The pair moved up and back between the two +ranks of singers, then down the outside, and laughed in glee when they +accelerated the pace at the time when they were swinging down the +center. All faces were aglow and eyes shining.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> +Bill's red face and bullet eyes were not beautiful, but the grace and +power of his body were unmistakable. He was excited by the music, the +alcohol he had been drinking, and by the presence of the girls, and +threw himself into the play with dangerous abandon.</p> + +<p>Under his ill-fitting coat his muscles rolled swift and silent. His tall +boots were brilliantly blue and starred with gold at the top, and his +pantaloons were tucked inside the tops to let their glory strike the +eye. His physical strength and grace and variety of "steps" called forth +many smiles and admiring exclamations from the girls, and caused the +young men to lose interest in "Weevily Wheat."</p> + +<p>When a new set was called for, Bill made a determined assault on Bettie +and secured her, for she did not have the firmness to refuse. But the +singers grew weary, and the set soon broke up. A game of forfeit was +substituted. This also dwindled down to a mere excuse for lovers to kiss +each other, and the whole company soon separated into little groups to +chatter and romp. Some few sat at the table in the parlor and played +"authors."</p> + +<p>Bettie was becoming annoyed by the attentions of Bill, and, to get rid +of him, went with Miss Lytle, Milton and two or three others into +another room and shut the door. This was not very unusual, but poor +Blackler seemed to feel it a direct +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> +affront to him and was embittered. +He was sitting by Ella Pratt when Bill Yohe swaggered up to him.</p> + +<p>"Say! Do you know where your girl is?"</p> + +<p>"No, an' I don't care."</p> + +<p>"Wal! It's <em>time</em> y' cared. She's in the other room there. +Milt Jennings has cut you out."</p> + +<p>"You're a liar," cried the loyal lover, leaping to his feet.</p> + +<p> +<i>Spat!</i> Yohe's open palm resounded upon the pale face of Blackler, +whose eyes had a wild glare in them, and the next moment they were rolling +on the floor like a couple of dogs, the stronger and older man above, the +valiant lover below. The house resounded with sudden screams, and then +came the hurry of feet, then a hush, in the midst of which was heard the +unsubdued voice of Blackler as he rose to his feet. </p> + +<p>"You're a"——</p> + +<p>Another dull stroke with the knotted fist, and the young fellow went to +the floor again, while Joe Yohe, like a wild beast roused at the sight +of blood, stood above the form of his brother (who had leaped upon the +fallen man), shouting with the hoarse, raucous note of a tiger:</p> + +<p>"Give 'im hell! I'll back yeh."</p> + +<p>Bettie pushed through the ring of men and women who were looking on in +delicious horror—pushed through quickly and yet with dignity. Her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> head +was thrown back, and the strange look on her face was thrilling. Facing +the angry men with a gesture of superb scorn and fearlessness, she +spoke, and in the deep hush her quiet words were strangely impressive:</p> + +<p>"Bill Yohe, what do you think you're doing?"</p> + +<p>For a moment the men were abashed, and, starting back, they allowed +Blackler, dazed, bleeding and half strangled, to rise to his feet. He +would have sprung against them both, for he had not heard or realized +who was speaking, but Bettie laid her hand on his arm, and the haughty +droop of her eyelids changed as she said in a tender voice:</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Ed; they ain't worth mindin'!"</p> + +<p>Her usual self came back quickly as she led him away. Friends began to +mutter now, and the swagger of the brothers threatened further trouble. +Their eyes rolled, their knotted hands swung about like bludgeons. +Threats, horrible snarls and oaths poured from their lips. But there +were heard at this critical moment rapid footsteps—a round, jovial +voice—and bursting through the door came the great form and golden head +of Lime Gilman.</p> + +<p>"Hold on here! What's all this?" he said, leaping with an ominously +good-natured smile into the open space before the two men, whose +restless pacing stopped at the sound of his voice. His sunny, laughing +blue eyes swept around him, taking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> +in the situation at a glance. He +continued to smile, but his teeth came together.</p> + +<p>"Git out o' this, you hounds! Git!" he said, in the same jovial tone. +"You! <em>You</em>," he said to Bill, slapping him lightly on the breast with +the back of his lax fingers. Bill struck at him ferociously, but the +slope-shouldered giant sent it by with his left wrist, kicking the feet +of the striker from under him with a frightful swing of his right +foot—a trick which appalled Joe.</p> + +<p>"Clear the track there," ordered Lime. "It's against the law t' fight at +a donation; so out y' go."</p> + +<p>Bill crawled painfully to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I'll pay you for this yet."</p> + +<p>"<em>Any</em> time but now. Git out, 'r I'll kick you out." Lime's voice +changed now. The silent crowd made way for them, and, seizing Joe by the +shoulder and pushing Bill before him, the giant passed out into the open +air. There he pushed Bill off the porch into the snow, and kicked his +brother over him with this parting word:</p> + +<p>"You infernal hyenies! Kickin's too good f'r you. If you ever want me, +look around an' you'll find me."</p> + +<p>Then, to the spectators who thronged after, he apologized:</p> + +<p>"I hate t' fight, and especially to kick a man; but they's times when a +man's <em>got</em> t' do it. Now, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> +jest go back and have a good time. Don't let +them hyenies spoil all y'r fun."</p> + +<p>That ended it. All knew Lime. Everybody had heard how he could lift one +end of the separator and toss a two-bushel sack filled with wheat over +the hind wheel of a wagon, and the terror of his kick was not unknown to +them. They all felt sure that the Yohes would not return, and all went +back into the house and attempted to go on with the games. But it was +impossible; such exciting events must be discussed, and the story was +told and retold by each one.</p> + +<p>When Milton returned to the parlor, he saw Bettie, tender, dignified and +grave, bending over Blackler, bathing his bruised face. Milton had never +admired her more than at that moment; she looked so womanly. She no +longer cared what people thought.</p> + +<p>The other girls, pale and tearful and a little hysterical, stood about, +close to their sweethearts. They enjoyed the excitement, however, and +the fight appealed to something organic in them.</p> + +<p>The donation party was at an end, that was clear, and the people began +to get ready to go home. Bettie started to thank Lyman for his help.</p> + +<p>"Don't say anything. I'd 'a' done it jest the same f'r anybody. It ain't +the thing to come to a donation and git up a row."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> +Milton hardly knew whether to ask Bettie to go back with him or not, but +Blackler relieved him from embarrassment by rousing up and saying:</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm all right now, Bettie. Hyere's yer girl, Milt. See the eye I've +got on me? She says she won't ride home with any such"——</p> + +<p>"Ed, what in the world do you mean?" Bettie could hardly understand her +lover's sudden exultation; it was still a very serious matter to her, in +spite of the complete reconciliation which had come with the assault. +She felt in a degree guilty, and that feeling kept her still tearful and +subdued, but Ed leered and winked with his good eye in uncontrollable +delight. Milton turned to Bettie at last, and said:</p> + +<p>"Well! I'll get Marc around to the door in a few minutes. Get your +things on."</p> + +<p>Bettie and Ed stood close together by the door. She was saying:</p> + +<p>"You'll forgive me, won't you, Ed?"</p> + +<p>"Why, course I will, Bettie. I was as much to blame as you was. I no +business to git mad till I knew what I was gittin' mad <em>at</em>."</p> + +<p>They were very tender now.</p> + +<p>"I'll—I'll go home with you, if you want me to, 'stead of with Milt," +she quavered.</p> + +<p>"No, I've got to take S'fye home. It's the square thing."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span> +"All right, Ed, but come an' let me talk it all straight."</p> + +<p>"It's all straight now; let's let it all go, whaddy y' say?"</p> + +<p>"All right, Ed."</p> + +<p>There was a kiss that the rest pretended not to hear. And bidding them +all good-night, Bettie ran out to the fence, where Milton sat waiting.</p> + +<p>The moon was riding high in the clear, cold sky, but falling toward the +west, as they swung into the wood-road. Through the branches of the oaks +the stars, set in the deep-blue, fathomless night, peered cold and +bright. There was no wind save the rush of air caused by the motion of +the sleigh. Neither of the young people spoke for some time. They lay +back in the sleigh under the thick robes, listening to the chime of the +bells, the squeal of the runners, and the weirdly-sweet distant singing +of another sleigh-load of young people far ahead.</p> + +<p>Milton pulled Marc down to a slow trot, and, tightening his arm around +Bettie's shoulders in a very brotherly hug, said:</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm glad you and Ed have fixed things up again. You'd always have +been sorry."</p> + +<p>"It was all my fault anyway," replied the girl, with a little tremor in +her voice, "and it was all my fault to-night, too. I no business to 'a' +gone off an' left him that way."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> +"Well, it's all over now anyway, and so I wouldn't worry any more about +it," said Milton, soothingly, and then they fell into silence again.</p> + +<p>The sagacious Marc Antony strode steadily away, and the two young lovers +went on with their dreaming. Bettie was silent mainly, and Milton was +trying to fancy that she was Eileen, and was remembering the long rides +they had had together. And the horse's hoofs beat a steady rhythm, the +moon fell to the west, and the bells kept cheery chime. The breath of +the horse rose into the air like steam. The house-dogs sent forth +warning howls as they went by. Once or twice they passed houses where +the windows were still lighted and where lanterns were flashing around +the barn, where the horses were being put in for the night.</p> + +<p>The lights were out at the home of Bettie when they drove up, for the +young people, however rapidly they might go to the sociable, always +returned much slower than the old folks. Milton leaped out and held up +his arms to help his companion out. As she shook the robes down, stood +up and reached out for his arms, he seized her round the waist, and, +holding her clear of the ground, kissed her in spite of her struggles.</p> + +<p>"Milton!"</p> + +<p>"The las' time, Bettie; the las' time," he said, in extenuation. With +this mournful word on his lips +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> +he leaped into the sleigh and was off +like the wind. But the listening girl heard his merry voice ringing out +on the still air. Suddenly something sweet and majestic swept upon the +girl. Something that made her look up into the glittering sky with vast +yearning. In the awful hush of the sky and the plain she heard the beat +of her own blood in her ears. She longed for song to express the +swelling of her throat and the wistful ache of her heart.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span></p> +<p class="center" style="font-size:160%">AN AFTERWORD:<br /> +<span style="font-size:90%">OF WINDS, SNOWS AND THE STARS</span></p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus-leaf-reverse.png" width="38" height="28" +alt="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from the text]" +title="[Illustration: Leaf separating the chapter heading from the text]" /> +</div> +<p style="margin:auto; width:20em; font-style:italic"> +O witchery of the winter night<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(With broad moon shouldering to the west)!</span><br /> +<br /> +In city streets the west wind sweeps<br /> +Before my feet in rustling flight;<br /> +The midnight snows in untracked heaps<br /> +Lie cold and desolate and white.<br /> +I stand and wait with upturned eyes,<br /> +Awed with the splendor of the skies<br /> +And star-trained progress of the moon.<br /> +<br /> +The city walls dissolve like smoke<br /> +Beneath the magic of the moon,<br /> +And age falls from me like a cloak;<br /> +I hear sweet girlish voices ring<br /> +Clear as some softly stricken string—<br /> +(The moon is sailing to the west.)<br /> +The sleigh-bells clash in homeward flight;<br /> +With frost each horse's breast is white—<br /> +(The big moon sinking to the west.)</p> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<p style="margin:auto; width:20em; font-style:italic"> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Good night, Lettie!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Good night, Ben!"</span><br /> +(The moon is sinking at the west.)<br /> +"Good night, my sweetheart," Once again<br /> +The parting kiss while comrades wait<br /> +Impatient at the roadside gate,<br /> +And the red moon sinks beyond the west.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p> + <br /><br /><br /> +</p> + +<h2><a href="#Contents">Transcriber's Notes</a></h2> +<div id="notes"> +<p> +Welcome to <span class="pg">Project Gutenberg's</span> edition of +the first version of <i>Prairie Folks</i> by Hamlin Garland. We +have used the 1893 edition of the book published by F. J. Schulte +and Company for this transcription. This book is available through +the Internet Archive courtesy of the New York Public Library.</p> +<p>In 1899, Garland published a revised edition of Prairie Folks with +many changes:</p> +<ul> + <li>The short stories Saturday Night on the Farm and Uncle Ethan's + Speculation were omitted from the 1899 edition.</li> + <li>The short stories Aidgewise Feelings, Black Ephram, and The + Wapseypinnicon Tiger were added to the 1899 edition.</li> + <li>The order of Elder Pill and Bacon's Man were switched; some parts + of Elder Pill were modified to make the story appear as if it was + written after Bacon's Man. These alterations involved changed dialogue + and the revision of scenes involving Mrs. Bacon and Merry Etty.</li> + <li>A page or more of verse was added between each story.</li> + <li>Some tinkering was done with the title and text of the rest of the + short stories.</li> +</ul> +<h3>Notes:</h3> +<p>The following alternate spellings of words or phrases were found in +the text:</p> +<ul> +<li>every which-way (page 51);<br /> every-which-way (page 91).</li> +<li>checkerboard (page 180);<br />checker-board (pages 169, 172)</li> +</ul> +<p>On page 132, change faught to fought.</p> +<p>On page 138, 'Just goin' the same thing right over,' might sound better +replacing doin' with goin' but Garland used goin'.</p> +<p>On page 156, transcribe forehead without the hyphen (see pages +16, 42, and 102).</p> +<p>On page 188, transcribe new-comer with the hyphen (see page 21).</p> +<p>On page 191, transcribe doorway without the hyphen (see pages 14 +and 143).</p> +<p>On page 235, transcribe pom-pom pullaway without the hyphen in +pullaway (see page 244).</p> +<p>On page 237, transcribe barnyard without the hyphen (see pages +36 and 91).</p> +<p>On page 246, place left quote before my hands are cold in the sentence: +"Can't do it," he laughed; "my hands are cold. Got to warm them, see?"</p> +<p>On page 248, remove quote after Gilman in the clause +"through the door came the great form and golden head +of Lime Gilman."</p> +<p>Several words hyphenated and split between two lines for spacing +could be spelled with the hyphen or not: night-gown (page 27), +meal-time (page 80), and jacka-napes (page 216).</p> +</div> + +<div class="boilerplate"> +<p class="end"> +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRAIRIE FOLKS *** +</p> +<br /> +<p> +***** This file should be named 20697-h.htm or 20697-h.zip ***** +</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:</p> +<p class="file-location">https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/9/20697/</p> +<p> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions +will be renamed. +</p> +<br /> +<p> +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Prairie Folks + +Author: Hamlin Garland + +Release Date: February 27, 2007 [EBook #20697] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRAIRIE FOLKS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +PRAIRIE FOLKS + +By HAMLIN GARLAND, AUTHOR OF +"MAIN-TRAVELED ROADS," "A MEMBER OF +THE THIRD HOUSE," "A SPOIL OF OFFICE," +ETC., ETC. + +F. J. SCHULTE & COMPANY + +PUBLISHERS CHICAGO. M DCCC XCIII + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +Copyright, 1892, +by HAMLIN GARLAND. + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +Prairie Folks. + +Pioneers. + + They rise to mastery of wind and snow; + They go like soldiers grimly into strife, + To colonize the plain; they plow and sow, + And fertilize the sod with their own life + As did the Indian and the buffalo. + +Settlers. + + Above them soars a dazzling sky, + In winter blue and clear as steel, + In summer like an Arctic sea + Wherein vast icebergs drift and reel + And melt like sudden sorcery. + + Beneath them plains stretch far and fair, + Rich with sunlight and with rain; + Vast harvests ripen with their care + And fill with overplus of grain + Their square, great bins. + + Yet still they strive! I see them rise + At dawn-light, going forth to toil: + The same salt sweat has filled my eyes, + My feet have trod the self-same soil + Behind the snarling plow. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +CONTENTS + +UNCLE ETHAN'S SPECULATION 11 + +THE TEST OF ELDER PILL 33 + +WILLIAM BACON'S HIRED MAN 73 + +SIM BURNS'S WIFE 101 + +SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE FARM 143 + +VILLAGE CRONIES 169 + +DRIFTING CRANE 187 + +OLD DADDY DEERING 201 + +THE SOCIABLE AT DUDLEY'S 227 + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART I. + +UNCLE ETHAN'S SPECULATION IN PATENT MEDICINES + + A certain guileless trust in human kind + Too often leads them into nets + Spread by some wandering trader, + Smooth, and deft, and sure. + + +UNCLE ETHAN RIPLEY. + + +Uncle Ethan had a theory that a man's character could be told by the way +he sat in a wagon seat. + +"A mean man sets right plumb in the _middle_ o' the seat, as much as to +say, 'Walk, gol darn yeh, who cares?' But a man that sets in one corner +o' the seat, much as to say, 'Jump in--cheaper t' ride 'n to walk,' you +can jest tie to." + +Uncle Ripley was prejudiced in favor of the stranger, therefore, before +he came opposite the potato patch, where the old man was "bugging his +vines." The stranger drove a jaded-looking pair of calico ponies, +hitched to a clattering democrat wagon, and he sat on the extreme end of +the seat, with the lines in his right hand, while his left rested on his +thigh, with his little finger gracefully crooked and his elbows akimbo. +He wore a blue shirt, with gay-colored armlets just above the elbows, +and his vest hung unbuttoned down his lank ribs. It was plain he was +well pleased with himself. + +As he pulled up and threw one leg over the end of the seat, Uncle Ethan +observed that the left spring was much more worn than the other, which +proved that it was not accidental, but that it was the driver's habit to +sit on that end of the seat. + +"Good afternoon," said the stranger, pleasantly. + +"Good afternoon, sir." + +"Bugs purty plenty?" + +"Plenty enough, I gol! I don't see where they all come fum." + +"Early Rose?" inquired the man, as if referring to the bugs. + +"No; Peachblows an' Carter Reds. My Early Rose is over near the house. +The old woman wants 'em near. See the darned things!" he pursued, +rapping savagely on the edge of the pan to rattle the bugs back. + +"How do yeh kill 'em--scald 'em?" + +"Mostly. Sometimes I"---- + +"Good piece of oats," yawned the stranger, listlessly. + +"That's barley." + +"So 'tis. Didn't notice." + +Uncle Ethan was wondering what the man was. He had some pots of black +paint in the wagon, and two or three square boxes. + +"What do yeh think o' Cleveland's chances for a second term?" continued +the man, as if they had been talking politics all the while. + +Uncle Ripley scratched his head. "Waal--I dunno--bein' a Republican--I +think "---- + +"That's so--it's a purty scaly outlook. I don't believe in second terms +myself," the man hastened to say. + +"Is that your new barn acrost there?" pointing with his whip. + +"Yes, sir, it is," replied the old man, proudly. After years of planning +and hard work he had managed to erect a little wooden barn, costing +possibly three hundred dollars. It was plain to be seen he took a +childish pride in the fact of its newness. + +The stranger mused. "A lovely place for a sign," he said, as his eyes +wandered across its shining yellow broadside. + +Uncle Ethan stared, unmindful of the bugs crawling over the edge of his +pan. His interest in the pots of paint deepened. + +"Couldn't think o' lettin' me paint a sign on that barn?" the stranger +continued, putting his locked hands around one knee, and gazing away +across the pig-pen at the building. + +"What kind of a sign? Gol darn your skins!" Uncle Ethan pounded the pan +with his paddle and scraped two or three crawling abominations off his +leathery wrist. + +It was a beautiful day, and the man in the wagon seemed unusually loath +to attend to business. The tired ponies slept in the shade of the +lombardies. The plain was draped in a warm mist, and shadowed by vast, +vaguely defined masses of clouds--a lazy June day. + +"Dodd's Family Bitters," said the man, waking out of his abstraction +with a start, and resuming his working manner. "The best bitter in the +market." He alluded to it in the singular. "Like to look at it? No +trouble to show goods, as the fellah says," he went on hastily, seeing +Uncle Ethan's hesitation. + +He produced a large bottle of triangular shape, like a bottle for +pickled onions. It had a red seal on top, and a strenuous caution in red +letters on the neck, "None genuine unless 'Dodd's Family Bitters' is +blown in the bottom." + +"Here's what it cures," pursued the agent, pointing at the side, where, +in an inverted pyramid, the names of several hundred diseases were +arranged, running from "gout" to "pulmonary complaints," etc. + +"I gol! she cuts a wide swath, don't she?" exclaimed Uncle Ethan, +profoundly impressed with the list. + +"They ain't no better bitter in the world," said the agent, with a +conclusive inflection. + +"What's its speshy-_al_ity? Most of 'em have some speshy-_al_ity." + +"Well--summer complaints--an'--an'--spring an' fall troubles--tones ye +up, sort of." + +Uncle Ethan's forgotten pan was empty of his gathered bugs. He was +deeply interested in this man. There was something he liked about him. + +"What does it sell fur?" he asked, after a pause. + +"Same price as them cheap medicines--dollar a bottle--big bottles, too. +Want one?" + +"Wal, mother ain't to home, an' I don't know as she'd like this kind. We +ain't been sick f'r years. Still, they's no tellin'," he added, seeing +the answer to his objection in the agent's eyes. "Times is purty close, +too, with us, y' see; we've jest built that stable "---- + +"Say, I'll tell yeh what I'll do," said the stranger, waking up and +speaking in a warmly generous tone. "I'll give you ten bottles of the +bitter if you'll let me paint a sign on that barn. It won't hurt the +barn a bit, and if you want 'o, you can paint it out a year from date. +Come, what d' ye say?" + +"I guess I hadn't better." + +The agent thought that Uncle Ethan was after more pay, but in reality he +was thinking of what his little old wife would say. + +"It simply puts a family bitter in your home that may save you fifty +dollars this comin' fall. You can't tell." + +Just what the man said after that Uncle Ethan didn't follow. His voice +had a confidential purring sound as he stretched across the wagon-seat +and talked on, eyes half shut. He straightened up at last, and concluded +in the tone of one who has carried his point: + +"So! If you didn't want to use the whole twenty-five bottles y'rself, +why! sell it to your neighbors. You can get twenty dollars out of it +easy, and still have five bottles of the best family bitter that ever +went into a bottle." + +It was the thought of this opportunity to get a buffalo-skin coat that +consoled Uncle Ethan as he saw the hideous black letters appearing under +the agent's lazy brush. + +It was the hot side of the barn, and painting was no light work. The +agent was forced to mop his forehead with his sleeve. + +"Say, hain't got a cooky or anything, and a cup o' milk handy?" he said +at the end of the first enormous word, which ran the whole length of the +barn. + +Uncle Ethan got him the milk and cooky, which he ate with an +exaggeratedly dainty action of his fingers, seated meanwhile on the +staging which Uncle Ripley had helped him to build. This lunch infused +new energy into him, and in a short time "DODD'S FAMILY BITTERS, Best +in the Market," disfigured the sweet-smelling pine boards. + + * * * * * + +Ethan was eating his self-obtained supper of bread and milk when his +wife came home. + +"Who's been a-paintin' on that barn?" she demanded, her bead-like eyes +flashing, her withered little face set in an ominous frown. "Ethan +Ripley, what you been doin'?" + +"Nawthin'," he replied, feebly. + +"Who painted that sign on there?" + +"A man come along an' he wanted to paint that on there, and I let 'im; +and it's my barn, anyway. I guess I can do what I'm a min' to with it," +he ended, defiantly; but his eyes wavered. + +Mrs. Ripley ignored the defiance. "What under the sun p'sessed you to do +such a thing as that, Ethan Ripley? I declare I don't see! You git +fooler an' fooler ev'ry day you live, I _do_ believe." + +Uncle Ethan attempted a defense. + +"Well, he paid me twenty-five dollars f'r it, anyway." + +"Did 'e?" She was visibly affected by this news. + +"Well, anyhow, it amounts to that; he give me twenty-five bottles"---- + +Mrs. Ripley sank back in her chair. "Well, I swan to Bungay! Ethan +Ripley--wal, you beat all I _ever_ see!" she added in despair of +expression. "I thought you had _some_ sense left, but you hain't, not +one blessed scimpton. Where _is_ the stuff?" + +"Down cellar, an' you needn't take on no airs, ol' woman. I've known you +to buy things you didn't need time an' time 'n' agin, tins and things, +an' I guess you wish you had back that ten dollars you paid for that +illustrated Bible." + +"Go 'long an' bring that stuff up here. I never see such a man in my +life. It's a wonder he didn't do it f'r two bottles." She glared out at +the sign, which faced directly upon the kitchen window. + +Uncle Ethan tugged the two cases up and set them down on the floor of +the kitchen. Mrs. Ripley opened a bottle and smelled of it like a +cautious cat. + +"Ugh! Merciful sakes, what stuff! It ain't fit f'r a hog to take. What'd +you think you was goin'to do with it?" she asked in poignant disgust. + +"I expected to take it--if I was sick. Whaddy ye s'pose?" He defiantly +stood his ground, towering above her like a leaning tower. + +"The hull cartload of it?" + +"No. I'm goin' to sell part of it an' git me an overcoat"---- + +"Sell it!" she shouted. "Nobuddy'll buy that sick'nin' stuff but an old +numbskull like you. Take that slop out o' the house this minute! Take +it right down to the sink-hole an' smash every bottle on the stones." + +Uncle Ethan and the cases of medicine disappeared, and the old woman +addressed her concluding remarks to little Tewksbury, her grandson, who +stood timidly on one leg in the doorway, like an intruding pullet. + +"Everything around this place 'ud go to rack an' ruin if I didn't keep a +watch on that soft-pated old dummy. I thought that lightenin'-rod man +had give him a lesson he'd remember, but no, he must go an' make a +reg'lar"---- + +She subsided in a tumult of banging pans, which helped her out in the +matter of expression and reduced her to a grim sort of quiet. Uncle +Ethan went about the house like a convict on shipboard. Once she caught +him looking out of the window. + +"I should _think_ you'd feel proud o' that." + +Uncle Ethan had never been sick a day in his life. He was bent and +bruised with never-ending toil, but he had nothing especial the matter +with him. + +He did not smash the medicine, as Mrs. Ripley commanded, because he had +determined to sell it. The next Sunday morning, after his chores were +done, he put on his best coat of faded diagonal, and was brushing his +hair into a ridge across the center of his high, narrow head, when Mrs. +Ripley came in from feeding the calves. + +"Where you goin' now?" + +"None o' your business," he replied. "It's darn funny if I can't stir +without you wantin' to know all about it. Where's Tewky?" + +"Feedin' the chickens. You ain't goin' to take him off this mornin' now! +I don't care where you go." + +"Who's a-goin' to take him off? I ain't said nothin' about takin' him +off." + +"Wall, take y'rself off, an' if y' ain't here f'r dinner, I ain't goin' +to get no supper." + +Ripley took a water-pail and put four bottles of "the bitter" into it, +and trudged away up the road with it in a pleasant glow of hope. All +nature seemed to declare the day a time of rest, and invited men to +disassociate ideas of toil from the rustling green wheat, shining grass, +and tossing blooms. Something of the sweetness and buoyancy of all +nature permeated the old man's work-calloused body, and he whistled +little snatches of the dance tunes he played on his fiddle. + +But he found neighbor Johnson to be supplied with another variety of +bitter, which was all he needed for the present. He qualified his +refusal to buy with a cordial invitation to go out and see his shotes, +in which he took infinite pride. But Uncle Ripley said: "I guess I'll +haf t' be goin'; I want 'o git up to Jennings' before dinner." + +He couldn't help feeling a little depressed when he found Jennings away. +The next house along the pleasant lane was inhabited by a "new-comer." +He was sitting on the horse-trough, holding a horse's halter, while his +hired man dashed cold water upon the galled spot on the animal's +shoulder. + +After some preliminary talk Ripley presented his medicine. + +"Hell, no! What do I want of such stuff? When they's anything the matter +with me, I take a lunkin' ol' swig of popple-bark and bourbon. That +fixes me." + +Uncle Ethan moved off up the lane. He hardly felt like whistling now. At +the next house he set his pail down in the weeds beside the fence, and +went in without it. Doudney came to the door in his bare feet, buttoning +his suspenders over a clean boiled shirt. He was dressing to go out. + +"Hello, Ripley. I was just goin' down your way. Jest wait a minute an' +I'll be out." + +When he came out fully dressed, Uncle Ethan grappled him. "Say, what d' +you think o' paytent med"---- + +"Some of 'em are boss. But y' want 'o know what y're gitt'n'." + +"What d' ye think o' Dodd's"---- + +"Best in the market." + +Uncle Ethan straightened up and his face lighted. Doudney went on: + +"Yes, sir; best bitter that ever went into a bottle. I know, I've tried +it. I don't go much on patent medicines, but when I get a good"---- + +"Don't want 'o buy a bottle?" + +Doudney turned and faced him. + +"Buy! No. I've got nineteen bottles I want 'o _sell_." Ripley glanced up +at Doudney's new granary and there read "Dodd's Family Bitters." He was +stricken dumb. Doudney saw it all and roared. + +"Wal, that's a good one! We two tryin' to sell each other bitters. +Ho--ho--ho--har, whoop! wal, this is rich! How many bottles did you +git?" + +"None o' your business," said Uncle Ethan, as he turned and made off, +while Doudney screamed with merriment. + +On his way home Uncle Ethan grew ashamed of his burden. Doudney had +canvassed the whole neighborhood, and he practically gave up the +struggle. Everybody he met seemed determined to find out what he had +been doing, and at last he began lying about it. + +"Hello, Uncle Ripley, what y' got there in that pail?" + +"Goose eggs f'r settin'." + +He disposed of one bottle to old Gus Peterson. Gus never paid his debts, +and he would only promise fifty cents "on tick" for the bottle, and yet +so desperate was Ripley that this _quasi_ sale cheered him up not a +little. + +As he came down the road, tired, dusty and hungry, he climbed over the +fence in order to avoid seeing that sign on the barn, and slunk into the +house without looking back. + +He couldn't have felt meaner about it if he had allowed a Democratic +poster to be pasted there. + +The evening passed in grim silence, and in sleep he saw that sign +wriggling across the side of the barn like boa-constrictors hung on +rails. He tried to paint them out, but every time he tried it the man +seemed to come back with a sheriff, and savagely warned him to let it +stay till the year was up. In some mysterious way the agent seemed to +know every time he brought out the paint-pot, and he was no longer the +pleasant-voiced individual who drove the calico ponies. + +As he stepped out into the yard next morning, that abominable, +sickening, scrawling advertisement was the first thing that claimed his +glance--it blotted out the beauty of the morning. + +Mrs. Ripley came to the window, buttoning her dress at the throat, a +whisp of her hair sticking assertively from the little knob at the back +of her head. + +"Lovely, ain't it! An' _I_'ve got to see it all day long. I can't look +out the winder but that thing's right in my face." It seemed to make her +savage. She hadn't been in such a temper since her visit to New York. "I +hope you feel satisfied with it." + +Ripley walked off to the barn. His pride in its clean, sweet newness was +gone. 'He slyly tried the paint to see if it couldn't be scraped off, +but it was dried in thoroughly. Whereas before he had taken delight in +having his neighbors turn and look at the building, now he kept out of +sight whenever he saw a team coming. He hoed corn away in the back of +the field, when he should have been bugging potatoes by the roadside. + +Mrs. Ripley was in a frightful mood about it, but she held herself in +check for several days. At last she burst forth: + +"Ethan Ripley, I can't stand that thing any longer, and I ain't goin' +to, that's all! You've got to go and paint that thing out, or I will. +I'm just about crazy with it." + +"But, mother, I promised "---- + +"I don't care _what_ you promised, it's got to be painted out. I've got +the nightmare now, seem' it. I'm goin' to send f'r a pail o' red paint, +and I'm goin' to paint that out if it takes the last breath I've got to +do it." + +"I'll tend to it, mother, if you won't hurry me"---- + +"I can't stand it another day. It makes me boil every time I look out +the winder." + +Uncle Ethan hitched up his team and drove gloomily off to town, where he +tried to find the agent. He lived in some other part of the county, +however, and so the old man gave up and bought a pot of red paint, not +daring to go back to his desperate wife without it. + +"Goin' to paint y'r new barn?" inquired the merchant, with friendly +interest. + +Uncle Ethan turned with guilty sharpness; but the merchant's face was +grave and kindly. + +"Yes, I thought I'd touch it up a little--don't cost much." + +"It pays--always," the merchant said emphatically. + +"Will it--stick jest as well put on evenings?" inquired Uncle Ethan, +hesitatingly. + +"Yes--won't make any difference. Why? Ain't goin' to have"---- + +"Waal,--I kind o' thought I'd do it odd times night an' mornin.'--kind +o' odd times"---- + +He seemed oddly confused about it, and the merchant looked after him +anxiously as he drove away. + +After supper that night he went out to the barn, and Mrs. Ripley heard +him sawing and hammering. Then the noise ceased, and he came in and sat +down in his usual place. + +"What y' ben makin'?" she inquired. Tewksbury had gone to bed. She sat +darning a stocking. + +"I jest thought I'd git the stagin' ready f'r paintin'," he said, +evasively. + +"Waal! I'll be glad when it's covered up." When she got ready for bed, +he was still seated in his chair, and after she had dozed off two or +three times she began to wonder why he didn't come. When the clock +struck ten, and she realized that he had not stirred, she began to get +impatient. "Come, are y' goin' to sit there all night?" There was no +reply. She rose up in bed and looked about the room. The broad moon +flooded it with light, so that she could see he was not asleep in his +chair, as she had supposed. There was something ominous in his +disappearance. + +"Ethan! Ethan Ripley, where are yeh?" There was no reply to her sharp +call. She rose and distractedly looked about among the furniture, as if +he might somehow be a cat and be hiding in a corner somewhere. Then she +went upstairs where the boy slept, her hard little heels making a +curious _tunking_ noise on the bare boards. The moon fell across the +sleeping boy like a robe of silver. He was alone. + +She began to be alarmed. Her eyes widened in fear. All sorts of vague +horrors sprang unbidden into her brain. She still had the mist of sleep +in her brain. + +She hurried down the stairs and out into the fragrant night. The +katydids were singing in infinite peace under the solemn splendor of the +moon. The cattle sniffed and sighed, jangling their bells now and then, +and the chickens in the coops stirred uneasily as if overheated. The old +woman stood there in her bare feet and long nightgown, horror-stricken. +The ghastly story of a man who had hung himself in his barn because his +wife deserted him came into her mind and stayed there with frightful +persistency. Her throat filled chokingly. + +She felt a wild rush of loneliness. She had a sudden realization of how +dear that gaunt old figure was, with its grizzled face and ready smile. +Her breath came quick and quicker, and she was at the point of bursting +into a wild cry to Tewksbury, when she heard a strange noise. It came +from the barn, a creaking noise. She looked that way, and saw in the +shadowed side a deeper shadow moving to and fro. A revulsion to +astonishment and anger took place in her. + +"Land o' Bungay! If he ain't paintin' that barn, like a perfect old +idiot, in the night." + +Uncle Ethan, working desperately, did not hear her feet pattering down +the path, and was startled by her shrill voice. + +"Well, Ethan Ripley, whaddy y' think you're doin' now?" + +He made two or three slapping passes with the brush, and then snapped, +"I'm a-paintin' this barn--whaddy ye s'pose? If ye had eyes y' wouldn't +ask." + +"Well, you come right straight to bed. What d'you mean by actin' so?" + +"You go back into the house an' let me be. I know what I'm a-doin'. +You've pestered me about this sign jest about enough." He dabbed his +brush to and fro as he spoke. His gaunt figure towered above her in +shadow. His slapping brush had a vicious sound. + +Neither spoke for some time. At length she said more gently, "Ain't you +comin' in?" + +"No--not till I get a-ready. You go 'long an' tend to y'r own business. +Don't stan' there an' ketch cold." + +She moved off slowly toward the house. His voice subdued her. Working +alone out there had rendered him savage; he was not to be pushed any +farther. She knew by the tone of his voice that he must not be +assaulted. She slipped on her shoes and a shawl, and came back where he +was working, and took a seat on a saw-horse. + +"I'm a-goin' to set right here till you come in, Ethan Ripley," she +said, in a firm voice, but gentler than usual. + +"Waal, you'll set a good while," was his ungracious reply. But each felt +a furtive tenderness for the other. He worked on in silence. The boards +creaked heavily as he walked to and fro, and the slapping sound of the +paint-brush sounded loud in the sweet harmony of the night. The majestic +moon swung slowly round the corner of the barn, and fell upon the old +man's grizzled head and bent shoulders. The horses inside could be heard +stamping the mosquitoes away, and chewing their hay in pleasant chorus. + +The little figure seated on the saw-horse drew the shawl closer about +her thin shoulders. Her eyes were in shadow, and her hands were wrapped +in her shawl. At last she spoke in a curious tone. + +"Well, I don't know as you _was_ so very much to blame. I _didn't_ want +that Bible myself--I held out I did, but I didn't." + +Ethan worked on until the full meaning of this unprecedented surrender +penetrated his head, and then he threw down his brush. + +"Waal, I guess I'll let 'er go at that. I've covered up the most of it, +anyhow. Guess we'd better go in." + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART II. + +THE TEST OF ELDER PILL: THE COUNTRY PREACHER + + The lonely center of their social life, + The low, square school-house, stands + Upon the wind-swept plain, + Hacked by thoughtless boyish hands, + And gray, and worn, and warped with strife + Of sleet and autumn rain. + + +ELDER PILL, PREACHER. + +I. + + +Old man Bacon was pinching forked barbs on a wire fence one rainy day in +July, when his neighbor Jennings came along the road on his way to town. +Jennings never went to town except when it rained too hard to work +outdoors, his neighbors said; and of old man Bacon it was said he +_never_ rested _nights_ nor Sundays. + +Jennings pulled up. "Good morning, neighbor Bacon." + +"Mornin'," rumbled the old man without looking up. + +"Taking it easy, as usual, I see. Think it's going to clear up?" + +"May, an' may not. Don't make much differunce t' me," growled Bacon, +discouragingly. + +"Heard about the plan for a church?" + +"Naw." + +"Well, we're goin' to hire Elder Pill from Douglass to come over and +preach every Sunday afternoon at the school-house, an' we want help t' +pay him--the laborer is worthy of his hire." + +"Sometimes he is an' then agin he ain't. Y' needn't look t' me f'r a +dollar. I ain't got no intrust in y'r church." + +"Oh, yes, you have--besides, y'r wife "---- + +"She ain't got no more time 'n I have t' go t' church. We're obleeged to +do 'bout all we c'n stand t' pay our debts, let alone tryun' to support +a preacher." And the old man shut the pinchers up on a barb with a +vicious grip. + +Easy-going Mr. Jennings laughed in his silent way. "I guess you'll help +when the time comes," he said, and, clucking to his team, drove off. + +"I guess I won't," muttered the grizzled old giant as he went on with +his work. Bacon was what is called land-poor in the West, that is, he +had more land than money; still he was able to give if he felt disposed. +It remains to say that he was _not_ disposed, being a sceptic and a +scoffer. It angered him to have Jennings predict so confidently that he +would help. + +The sun was striking redly through a rift in the clouds, about three +o'clock in the afternoon, when he saw a man coming up the lane, walking +on the grass at the side of the road, and whistling merrily. The old man +looked at him from under his huge eyebrows with some curiosity. As he +drew near, the pedestrian ceased to whistle, and, just as the farmer +expected him to pass, he stopped and said, in a free and easy style: + +"How de do? Give me a chaw t'baccer. I'm Pill, the new minister. I take +fine-cut when I can get it," he said, as Bacon put his hand into his +pocket. "Much obliged. How goes it?" + +"Tollable, tollable," said the astounded farmer, looking hard at Pill as +he flung a handful of tobacco into his mouth. + +"Yes, I'm the new minister sent around here to keep you fellows in the +traces and out of hell-fire. Have y' fled from the wrath?" he asked, in +a perfunctory way. + +"You are, eh?" said Bacon, referring back to his profession. + +"I am just! How do you like that style of barb fence? Ain't the twisted +wire better?" + +"I s'pose they be, but they cost more." + +"Yes, costs more to go to heaven than to hell. You'll think so after I +board with you a week. Narrow the road that leads to light, and broad +the way that leads--how's your soul anyway, brother?" + +"Soul's all right. I find more trouble to keep m' body go'n'." + +"Give us your hand; so do I. All the same we must prepare for the next +world. We're gettin' old; lay not up your treasures where moth and rust +corrupt and thieves break through and steal." + +Bacon was thoroughly interested in the preacher, and was studying him +carefully. He was tall, straight, and superbly proportioned; +broad-shouldered, wide-lunged, and thewed like a Greek racer. His rather +small steel-blue eyes twinkled, and his shrewd face and small head, set +well back, completed a remarkable figure. He wore his reddish beard in +the usual way of Western clergymen, with mustache chopped close. + +Bacon spoke slowly: + +"You look like a good, husky man to pitch in the barnyard; you've too +much muscle f'r preachun'." + +"Come and hear me next Sunday, and if you say so then, I'll quit," +replied Mr. Pill, quietly. "I give ye my word for it. I believe in +preachers havin' a little of the flesh and the devil; they can +sympathize better with the rest of ye." The sarcasm was lost on Bacon, +who continued to look at him. Suddenly he said, as if with an +involuntary determination: + +"Where ye go'n' to stay t'night?" + +"I don' know; do you?" was the quick reply. + +"I reckon ye can hang out with me, 'f ye feel like ut. We ain't very +purty, ol' woman an' me, but we eat. You go along down the road and tell +'er I sent yeh. Y'll find an' ol' dusty Bible round some'rs--I s'pose ye +spend y'r spare time read'n about Joshua an' Dan'l"---- + +"I spend more time reading men. Well, I'm off! I'm hungrier 'n a gray +wolf in a bear-trap." + +And off he went as he came. But he did not whistle; he chewed. + +Bacon felt as if he had made too much of a concession, and had a strong +inclination to shout after him, and retract his invitation; but he did +not, only worked on, with an occasional bear-like grin. There was +something captivating in this fellow's free and easy way. + +When he came up to the house an hour or two later, in singular good +humor for him, he found the Elder in the creamery, with "the old woman" +and Marietta. Marietta was not more won by him than was Jane Bacon, he +was so genial and put on so few religious frills. + +Mrs. Bacon never put on frills of any kind. She was a most frightful +toiler, only excelled (if excelled at all) by her husband. She was still +muscular in her age and shapelessness. Unlovely at her best, when about +her work in her faded calico gown and flat shoes, hair wisped into a +slovenly knot, she was depressing. But she was a good woman, of sterling +integrity, and ambitious for her girl. + +Marietta was as attractive as her mother was depressing. She was very +young at this time and had the physical perfection--at least as regards +body--that her parents must have had in youth. She was above the average +height of woman, with strong swell of bosom and glorious, erect +carriage of head. Her features were coarse, but regular and pleasing, +and her manner boyish. + +Elder Pill was on the best of terms with them as he watched the milk +being skimmed out of the "submerged cans" ready for the "caaves and +hawgs," as Mrs. Bacon called them. + +"Dad told you t' come here 'nd stay t' supper, did he? What's come over +him?" said the girl, with a sort of audacious humor. + +"Dad has an awful grutch agin preachers," said Mrs. Bacon, as she wiped +her hands on her apron. "I declare, I don't see how "---- + +"_Some_ preachers, not _all_ preachers," laughed Pill, in his mellow +nasal. "There are preachers, and then again preachers. I'm one o' the +t'other kind." + +"I sh'd think y' was," laughed the girl. + +"Now, Merry Etty, you run right t' the pig-pen with that milk, whilst I +go in an' set the tea on." + +Mr. Pill seized the can of milk, saying, with a twang: "Show me the way +that I may walk therein," and, accompanied by the laughing girl, made +rapid way to the pig-pen just as the old man set up a ferocious shout to +call the hired hand out of the cornfield. + +"How'd y' come to send _him_ here?" asked Mrs. Bacon, nodding toward +Pill. + +"Damfino! I kind o' liked him--no nonsense about him," answered Bacon, +going into temporary eclipse behind his hands as he washed his face at +the cistern. + +At the supper table Pill was "easy as an old shoe," ate with his knife, +talked on fatting hogs, suggested a few points on raising clover, told +of pioneer experiences in Michigan, and soon won them--hired man and +all--to a most favorable opinion of himself. But he did not trench on +religious matters at all. + +The hired man in his shirt-sleeves, and smelling frightfully of tobacco +and sweat (as did Bacon), sat with open month, at times forgetting to +eat, in his absorbing interest in the minister's yarns. + +"Yes, I've got a family, too much of a family, in fact--that is, I think +so sometimes when I'm pinched. Our Western people are so indigent--in +plain terms, poor--they _can't_ do any better than they do. But we pull +through--we pull through! John, you look like a stout fellow, but I'll +bet a hat I can _down_ you three out of five." + +"I bet you can't," grinned the hired man. It was the climax of all, that +bet. + +"I'll take y' in hand an' flop y' both," roared Bacon from his lion-like +throat, his eyes glistening with rare good-nature from the shadow of his +gray brows. But he admired the minister's broad shoulders at the same +time. If this fellow panned out as he promised, he was a rare specimen. + +After supper the Elder played a masterly game of croquet with Marietta, +beating her with ease; then he wandered out to the barn and talked +horses with the hired man, and finished by stripping off his coat and +putting on one of Mrs. Bacon's aprons to help milk the cows. + + * * * * * + +But at breakfast the next morning, when the family were about pitching +into their food as usual without ceremony, "_Wait!_" said the visitor, +in an imperious tone and with lifted hand. "Let us look to the Lord for +His blessing." + +They waited till the grace was said, but it threw a depressing +atmosphere over the meal; evidently they considered the trouble begun. +At the end of the meal the minister asked: + +"Have you a Bible in the house?" + +"I reckon there's one in the house somewhere. Merry, go 'n see 'f y' +can't raise one," said Mrs. Bacon, indifferently. + +"Have you any objection to family devotion?" asked Pill, as the book was +placed in his hands by the girl. + +"No; have all you want," said Bacon, as he rose from the table and +passed out the door. + +"I guess I'll see the thing through," said the hand. "It ain't just +square to leave the women folks to bear the brunt of it." + +It was shortly after breakfast that the Elder concluded he'd walk up to +Brother Jennings' and see about church matters. + +"I shall expect you, Brother Bacon, to be at the service at 2:30." + +"All right, go ahead expectun'," responded Bacon, with an inscrutable +sidewise glance. + +"You promised, you remember?" + +"The--devil--I did!" the old man snarled. + +The Elder looked back with a smile, and went off whistling in the warm, +bright morning. + + + + +II. + + +The school-house down on the creek was known as "Hell's Corners" all +through the county, because of the frequent rows that took place therein +at "corkuses" and the like, and also because of the number of teachers +that had been "ousted" by the boys. In fact, it was one of those places +still to be found occasionally in the West, far from railroads and +schools, where the primitive ignorance and ferocity of men still prowl, +like the panthers which are also found sometimes in the deeps of the +Iowa timber lands. + +The most of this ignorance and ferocity, however, was centered in the +family of Dixons, a dark-skinned, unsavory group of Missourians. It +consisted of old man Dixon and wife, and six sons, all man-grown, great, +gaunt, sinewy fellows, with no education, but superstitious as savages. +If anything went wrong in 'Hell's Corners' everybody knew that the +Dixons were "on the rampage again." The school-teachers were warned +against the Dixons, and the preachers were besought to convert the +Dixons. + +In fact, John Jennings, as he drove Pill to the school-house next day, +said: + +"If you can convert the Dixon boys, Elder, I'll give you the best horse +in my barn." + +"I work not for such hire," said Mr. Pill, with a look of deep solemnity +on his face, belied, indeed, by a twinkle in his small, keen eye--a +twinkle which made Milton Jennings laugh candidly. + +There was considerable curiosity, expressed by a murmur of lips and +voices, as the minister's tall figure entered the door and stood for a +moment in a study of the scene before him. It was a characteristically +Western scene. The women were rigidly on one side of the school-room, +the men as rigidly on the other; the front seats were occupied by +squirming boys and girls in their Sunday splendor. + +On the back, to the right, were the young men, in their best vests, with +paper collars and butterfly neckties, with their coats unbuttoned, their +hair plastered down in a fascinating wave on their brown foreheads. Not +a few were in their shirt-sleeves. The older men sat immediately +between the youths and boys, talking in hoarse whispers across the +aisles about the state of the crops and the county ticket, while the +women in much the same way conversed about children and raising onions +and strawberries. It was their main recreation, this Sunday meeting. + +"Brethren!" rang out the imperious voice of the minister, "let us pray." + +The audience thoroughly enjoyed the Elder's prayer. He was certainly +gifted in that direction, and his petition grew genuinely eloquent as +his desires embraced the "ends of the earth and the utterm'st parts of +the seas thereof." But in the midst of it a clatter was heard, and five +or six strapping fellows filed in with loud thumpings of their brogans. + +Shortly after they had settled themselves with elaborate impudence on +the back seat, the singing began. Just as they were singing the last +verse, every individual voice wavered and all but died out in +astonishment to see William Bacon come in--an unheard-of thing! And with +a clean shirt, too! Bacon, to tell the truth, was feeling as much out of +place as a cat in a bath-tub, and looked uncomfortable, even shamefaced, +as he sidled in, his shapeless hat gripped nervously in both hands; +coatless and collarless, his shirt open at his massive throat. The girls +tittered, of course, and the boys hammered each other's ribs, moved by +the unusual sight. Milton Jennings, sitting beside Marietta, said: + +"Well! may I jump straight up and never come down!" + +And Shep Watson said: "May I never see the back o' my neck!" Which +pleased Marietta so much that she grew purple with efforts to conceal +her laughter; she always enjoyed a joke on her father. + +But all things have an end, and at last the room became quiet as Mr. +Pill began to read the Scripture, wondering a little at the commotion. +He suspected that those dark-skinned, grinning fellows on the back seat +were the Dixon boys, and knew they were bent on fun. The physique of the +minister being carefully studied, the boys began whispering among +themselves, and at last, just as the sermon opened, they began to push +the line of young men on the long seat over toward the girls' side, +squeezing Milton against Marietta. This pleasantry encouraged one of +them to whack his neighbor over the head with his soft hat, causing +great laughter and disturbance. The preacher stopped. His cool, +penetrating voice sounded strangely unclerical as he said: + +"There are some fellows here to-day to have fun with me. If they don't +keep quiet, they'll have more fun than they can hold." At this point a +green crab-apple bounded up the aisle. "I'm not to be bulldozed." + +He pulled off his coat and laid it on the table before him, and, amid a +wondering silence, took off his cuffs and collar, saying: + +"I can preach the word of the Lord just as well without my coat, and I +can throw rowdies out the door a little better in my shirt-sleeves." + +Had the Dixon boys been a little shrewder as readers of human character, +or if they had known why old William Bacon was there, they would have +kept quiet; but it was not long before they began to push again, and at +last one of them gave a squeak, and a tussle took place. The preacher +was in the midst of a sentence: + +"An evil deed, brethren, is like unto a grain of mustard seed. It is +small, but it grows steadily, absorbing its like from the earth and air, +sending out roots and branches, till at last"---- + +There was a scuffle and a snicker. Mr. Pill paused, and gazed intently +at Tom Dixon, who was the most impudent and strongest of the gang; then +he moved slowly down on the astonished young savage. As he came his eyes +seemed to expand like those of an eagle in battle, steady, remorseless, +unwavering, at the same time that his brows shut down over them--a +glance that hushed every breath. The awed and astounded ruffians sat as +if paralyzed by the unuttered yet terribly ferocious determination of +the preacher's eyes. His right hand was raised, the other was clenched +at his waist. There was a sort of solemnity in his approach, like a +tiger creeping upon a foe. + +At last, after what seemed minutes to the silent, motionless +congregation, his raised hand came down on the shoulder of the leader +with the exact, resistless precision of the tiger's paw, and the ruffian +was snatched from his seat to the floor sprawling. Before he could rise, +the steel-like grip of the roused preacher sent him half way to the +door, and then out into the dirt of the road. + +Turning, Pill came back down the aisle; as he came the half-risen +congregation made way for him, curiously. When he came within reach of +Dick, the fellow struck savagely out at the preacher, only to have his +blow avoided by a lithe, lightning-swift movement of the body above the +hips (a trained boxer's trick), and to find himself also lying bruised +and dazed on the floor. + +By this time the rest of the brothers had recovered from their stupor, +and, with wild curses, leaped over the benches toward the fearless Pill. + +But now a new voice was heard in the sudden uproar--a new but familiar +voice. It was the raucous snarl of William Bacon, known far and wide as +a terrible antagonist, a man who had never been whipped. He was like a +wild beast excited to primitive savagery by the smell of blood. + +"_Stand back_, you hell-hounds!" he said, leaping between them and the +preacher. "You know me. Lay another hand on that man an', by the livun' +God, you answer t' me. Back thear!" + +Some of the men cheered, most stood irresolute. The women crowded +together, the children began to scream with terror, while through it all +Pill was dragging his last assailant toward the door. + +Bacon made his way down to where the Dixons had halted, undecided what +to do. If the preacher had the air and action of the tiger, Bacon looked +the grizzly bear--his eyebrows working up and down, his hands clenched +into frightful bludgeons, his breath rushing through his hairy nostrils. + +"Git out o' hyare," he growled. "You've run things here jest about long +enough. Git out!" + +His hands were now on the necks of two of the boys, and he was hustling +them toward the door. + +"If you want 'o whip the preacher, meet him in the public road--one at a +time; he'll take care o' himself. Out with ye," he ended, kicking them +out. "Show your faces here agin, an' I'll break ye in two." + +The non-combative farmers now began to see the humor of the whole +transaction and began to laugh; but they were cut short by the calm +voice of the preacher at his desk: + +"But a _good_ deed, brethren, is like unto a grain of wheat planted in +good earth, that bringeth forth fruit in due season an hundred fold." + + + + +III. + + +Mr. Pill, with all his seeming levity, was a powerful hand at revivals, +as was developed at the "protracted" meetings held at the Corners during +December. Indeed, such was the pitiless intensity of his zeal that a +gloom was cast over the whole township; the ordinary festivities stopped +or did not begin at all. + +The lyceum, which usually began by the first week in December, was put +entirely out of the question, as were the spelling-schools and +"exhibitions." The boys, it is true, still drove the girls to meeting in +the usual manner; but they all wore a furtive, uneasy air, and their +laughter was not quite genuine at its best, and died away altogether +when they came near the school-house, and they hardly recovered from the +effects of the preaching till a mile or two had been spun behind the +shining runners. It took all the magic of the jingle of the bells and +the musical creak of the polished steel on the snow to win them back to +laughter. + +As for Elder Pill, he was as a man transformed. He grew more intense +each night, and strode back forth behind his desk and pounded the Bible +like an assassin. No more games with the boys, no more poking the girls +under the chin! When he asked for a chew of tobacco now it was with an +air which said: "I ask it as sustenance that will give me strength for +the Lord's service," as if the demands of the flesh had weakened the +spirit. + +Old man Bacon overtook Milton Jennings early one Monday morning, as +Milton was marching down toward the Seminary at Rock River. It was +intensely cold and still, so cold and still that the ring of the cold +steel of the heavy sleigh, the snort of the horses, and the old man's +voice came with astonishing distinctness to the ears of the hurrying +youth, and it seemed a very long time before the old man came up. + +"Climb on!" he yelled, out of his frosty beard. He was seated on the +"hind bob" of a wood-sleigh, on a couple of blankets. Milton clambered +on, knowing well he'd freeze to death there. + +"Reckon I heerd you prowlun' around the front door with my girl last +night," Bacon said at length. "The way you both 'tend out t' meetun' +ought 'o sanctify yeh; must 'a' stayed to the after-meetun', didn't +yeh?" + +"Nope. The front part was enough for"---- + +"Danged if I was any more fooled with a man in m' life. I b'lieve the +whole thing is a little scheme on the bretheren t' raise a dollar." + +"Why so?" + +"Waal, y' see Pill ain't got much out o' the app'intment thus fur, and +he ain't likely to, if he don't shake 'em up a leetle. Borrud ten +dollars o' me t'other day." + +Well, thought Milton, whatever his real motive is, Elder Pill is earning +all he gets. Standing for two or three hours in his place night after +night, arguing, pleading, but mainly commanding them to be saved. + +Milton was describing the scenes of the meeting to Bradley Talcott and +Douglas Radbourn the next day, and Radbourn, a young law student said: + +"I'd like to see him. He must be a character." + +"Let's make up a party and go out," said Milton, eagerly. + +"All right; I'll speak to Lily Graham." + +Accordingly, that evening a party of students, in a large sleigh, drove +out toward the school-house, along the drifted lanes and through the +beautiful aisles of the snowy woods. A merry party of young people, who +had no sense of sin to weigh them down. Even Radbourn and Lily joined in +the songs which they sang to the swift clanging of the bells, until the +lights of the school-house burned redly through the frosty air. + +Not a few of the older people present felt scandalized by the singing +and by the dancing of the "town girls," who could not for the life of +them take the thing seriously. The room was so little, and hot, and +smoky, and the men looked so queer in their rough coats and hair +every-which-way. + +But they took their seats demurely on the back seat, and joined in the +opening songs, and listened to the halting prayers of the brethren and +the sonorous prayers of the Elder, with commendable gravity. Miss Graham +was a devout Congregationalist, and hushed the others into gravity when +their eyes began to dance dangerously. + +However, as Mr. Pill warmed to his work, the girls grew sober enough. He +awed them, and frightened them with the savagery of his voice and +manner. His small gray eyes were like daggers unsheathed, and his small, +round head took on a cat-like ferocity, as he strode to and fro, hurling +out his warnings and commands in a hoarse howl that terrified the +sinner, and drew 'amens' of admiration from the saints. + +"Atavism; he has gone back to the era of the medicine man," Radbourn +murmured. + +As the speaker went on, foam came upon his thin lips; his lifted hand +had prophecy and threatening in it. His eyes reflected flames; his voice +had now the tone of the implacable, vindictive judge. He gloated on the +pictures that his words called up. By the power of his imagination the +walls widened, the floor was no longer felt, the crowded room grew +still as death, every eye fixed on the speaker's face. + +"I tell you, you must repent or die. I can see the great judgment angel +now!" he said, stopping suddenly and pointing above the stove-pipe. "I +can see him as he stands weighing your souls as a man 'ud weigh wheat +and chaff. Wheat goes into the Father's garner; chaff is blown to hell's +devouring flame! I can see him _now_! He seizes a poor, damned, +struggling soul by the _neck_, he holds him over the flaming forge of +_hell_ till his bones melt like wax; he shrivels like thread in a flame +of a candle; he is nothing but a charred husk, and the angel flings him +back into _outer darkness_; life was not in him." + +It was this astonishing figure, powerfully acted, that scared poor Tom +Dixon into crying out for mercy. The effect on the rest was awful. To +see so great a sinner fall terror-stricken seemed like a providential +stroke of confirmatory evidence, and nearly a dozen other young people +fell crying. Whereat the old people burst out into amens with +unspeakable fervor. But the preacher, the wild light still in his eyes, +tore up and down, crying above the tumult: + +"The Lord is come with _power_! His hand is visible _here_. Shout +_aloud_ and spare _not_. Fall before him as _dust_ to his feet! +Hypocrites, vipers, scoffers! the _lash_ o' the _Lord_ is on ye!" + +In the intense pause which followed as he waited with expectant, +uplifted face--a pause so deep even the sobbing sinners held their +breath--a dry, drawling, utterly matter-of-fact voice broke the tense +hush. + +"S-a-y, Pill, ain't you a bearun' down on the boys a _leetle too_ hard?" + +The preacher's extended arm fell as if life had gone out of it. His face +flushed and paled; the people laughed hysterically, some of them the +tears of terror still on their cheeks; but Radbourn said, "Bravo, +Bacon!" + +Pill recovered himself. + +"Not hard enough for _you_, neighbor Bacon." + +Bacon rose, retaining the same dry, prosaic tone: + +"I ain't bitin' that kind of a hook, an' I ain't goin' to be _yanked_ +into heaven when I c'n _slide_ into hell. Waal! I must be goin'; I've +got a new-milk's cow that needs tendin' to." + +The effect of all this was indescribable. From being at the very mouth +of the furnace, quivering with fear and captive to morbid imaginings, +Bacon's dry intonation had brought them all back to earth again. They +saw a little of the absurdity of the whole situation. + +Pill was beaten for the first time in his life. He had been struck below +the belt by a good-natured giant. The best he could do, as Bacon +shuffled calmly out, was to stammer: "Will some one please sing?" And +while they sang, he stood in deep thought. Just as the last verse was +quivering into silence, the full, deep tones of Radbourn's voice rose +above the bustle of feet and clatter of seats: + +"And all _that_ he preaches in the name of Him who came bringing peace +and good-will to men." + +Radbourn's tone had in it reproach and a noble suggestion. The people +looked at him curiously. The deacons nodded their heads together in +counsel, and when they turned to the desk Pill was gone! + +"Gee whittaker! That was tough," said Milton to Radbourn; "knocked the +wind out o' him like a cannon-ball. What'll he do now? + +"He can't do anything but acknowledge his foolishness." + +"You no business t' come here an' 'sturb the Lord's meetin'," cried old +Daddy Brown to Radbourn. "You're a sinner and a scoffer." + +"I thought Bacon was the disturbing ele"---- + +"You're just as bad!" + +"He's all _right_," said William Councill. "I've got sick, m'self, of +bein' _scared_ into religion. I never was so fooled in a man in my life. +If I'd tell you what Pill said to me the other day, when we was in +Robie's store, you'd fall in a fit. An' to hear him talkin' here +t'night, is enough to make a horse laugh." + +"You're all in league with the devil," said the old man wildly; and so +the battle raged on. + +Milton and Radbourn escaped from it, and got out into the clear, cold, +untainted night. + +"The heat of the furnace don't reach as far as the horses," Radbourn +moralized, as he aided in unhitching the shivering team. "In the vast, +calm spaces of the stars, among the animals, such scenes as we have just +seen are impossible." He lifted his hand in a lofty gesture. The light +fell on his pale face and dark eyes. + +The girls were a little indignant and disposed to take the preacher's +part. They thought Bacon had no right to speak out that way, and Miss +Graham uttered her protest, as they whirled away on the homeward ride +with pleasant jangle of bells. + +"But the secret of it all was," said Radbourn in answer, "Pill knew he +was acting a part. I don't mean that he meant to deceive, but he got +excited, and his audience responded as an audience does to an actor of +the first class, and he was for the time in earnest; his imagination +_did_ see those horrors,--he was swept away by his own words. But when +Bacon spoke, his dry tone and homely words brought everybody, preacher +and all, back to the earth with a thump! Every body saw that, after +weeping and wailing there for an hour, they'd go home, feed the calves, +hang up the lantern, put out the cat, wind the clock, and go to bed. In +other words, they all came back out of their barbaric _powwow_ to their +natural modern selves." + +This explanation had palpable truth, but Lily had a dim feeling that it +had wider application than to the meeting they had just left. + +"They'll be music around this clearing to-morrow," said Milton, with a +sigh; "wish I was at home this week." + +"But what'll become of Mr. Pill?" + +"Oh, he'll come out all right," Radbourn assured her, and Milton's clear +tenor rang out as he drew Eileen closer to his side: + + "O silver moon, O silver moon, + You set, you set too soon-- + The morrow day is far away, + The night is but begun." + + + + +IV. + + +The news, grotesquely exaggerated, flew about the next day, and at +night, though it was very cold and windy, the house was jammed to +suffocation. On these lonely prairies life is so devoid of anything but +work, dramatic entertainments are so few, and appetite so keen, that a +temperature of twenty degrees below zero is no bar to a trip of ten +miles. The protracted meeting was the only recreation for many of them. +The gossip before and after service was a delight not to be lost, and +this last sensation was dramatic enough to bring out old men and women +who had not dared to go to church in winter for ten years. + +Long before seven o'clock, the school-house blazed with light and buzzed +with curious speech. Team after team drove up to the door, and as the +drivers leaped out to receive the women, they said in low but eager +tones to the bystanders: + +"Meeting begun yet?" + +"Nope!" + +"What kind of a time y' havin' over here, any way?" + +"A mighty solumn time," somebody would reply to a low laugh. + +By seven o'clock every inch of space was occupied; the air was +frightful. The kerosene lamps gave off gas and smoke, the huge stove +roared itself into an angry red on its jack-oak grubs, and still people +crowded in at the door. + +Discussion waxed hot as the stove; two or three Universalists boldly +attacked everybody who came their way. A tall man stood on a bench in +the corner, and, thumping his Bible wildly with his fist, exclaimed, at +the top of his voice: + +"There is _no_ hell at _all_! The Bible says the _wicked_ perish +_utterly_. They are _consumed_ as _ashes_ when they die. They _perish_ +as _dogs_!" + +"What kind o' docterin' is that?" asked a short man of Councill. + +"I d'know. It's ol' Sam Richards. Calls himself a +Christian--Christadelphian 'r some new-fangled name." + +At last people began to inquire, "Well, ain't he comin'?" + +"Most time f'r the Elder to come, ain't it?" + +"Oh, I guess he's preparin' a sermon." + +John Jennings pushed anxiously to Daddy Brown. + +"Ain't the Elder comin'?" + +"I d'know. He didn't stay at my house." + +"He didn't?" + +"No. Thought he went home with you." + +"I ain't see 'im 't all. I'll ask Councill. Brother Councill, seen +anything of the Elder?" + +"No. Didn't he go home with Bensen?" + +"I d'n know. I'll see." + +This was enough to start the news that "Pill had skipped." + +This the deacons denied, saying "he'd come or send word." + +Outside, on the leeward side of the house, the young men who couldn't +get in stood restlessly, now dancing a jig, now kicking their huge boots +against the underpinning to warm their toes. They talked spasmodically +as they swung their arms about their chests, speaking from behind their +huge buffalo-coat collars. + +The wind roared through the creaking oaks; the horses stirred +complainingly, the bells on their backs crying out querulously; the +heads of the fortunates inside were shadowed outside on the snow, and +the restless young men amused themselves betting on which head was +Bensen and which Councill. + +At last some one pounded on the desk inside. The suffocating but lively +crowd turned with painful adjustment toward the desk, from whence Deacon +Benson's high, smooth voice sounded: + +"Brethren an' sisters, Elder Pill hain't come--and, as it's about eight +o'clock, he probably won't come to-night. After the disturbances last +night, it's--a--a--we're all the more determined to--the--a--need of +reforming grace is more felt than ever. Let us hope nothing has happened +to the Elder. I'll go see to-morrow, and if he is unable to come--I'll +see Brother Wheat, of Cresco. After prayer by Brother Jennings, we will +adjourn till to-morrow night. Brother Jennings, will you lead us in +prayer?" (Some one snickered.) "I hope the disgraceful--a--scenes of +last night will not be repeated." + +"Where's Pill?" demanded a voice in the back part of the room. "That's +what I want to know." + +"He's a bad pill," said another, repeating a pun already old. + +"I guess so! He borrowed twenty dollars o' me last week," said the first +voice. + +"He owes me for a pig," shouted a short man, excitedly. "I believe he's +skipped to get rid o' his debts." + +"So do I. I allus said he was a mighty queer preacher." + +"He'd bear watchin' was my idee fust time I ever see him." + +"Careful, brethren--_careful_. He may come at any minute." + +"I don't care if he does. I'd bone him f'r pay f'r that shote, preacher +'r no preacher," said Bartlett, a little nervously. + +High words followed this, and there was prospect of a fight. The +pressure of the crowd, however, was so great it was well-nigh impossible +for two belligerents to get at each other. The meeting broke up at last, +and the people, chilly, soured, and disappointed at the lack of +developments, went home saying Pill was _scaly_; no preacher who chawed +terbacker was to be trusted; and when it was learned that the horse and +buggy he drove he owed Jennings and Bensen for, everybody said, "He's a +fraud." + + + + +V. + + +In the meantime, Andrew Pill was undergoing the most singular and awful +mental revolution. + +When he leaped blindly into his cutter and gave his horse the rein, he +was wild with rage and shame, and a sort of fear. As he sat with bent +head, he did not hear the tread of the horse, and did not see the trees +glide past. The rabbit leaped away under the shadow of the thick groves +of young oaks; the owl, scared from its perch, went fluttering off into +the cold, crisp air; but he saw only the contemptuous, quizzical face of +old William Bacon--one shaggy eyebrow lifted, a smile showing through +his shapeless beard. + +He saw the colorless, handsome face of Radbourn, with a look of reproach +and a note of suggestion--Radbourn, one of the best thinkers and +speakers in Rock River, and the most generally admired young man in Rock +County. + +When he saw and heard Bacon, his hurt pride flamed up in wrath, but the +calm voice of Radbourn, and the look in his stern, accusing eyes, made +his head fall in thought. As he rode, things grew clearer. As a matter +of fact, his whole system of religious thought was like the side of a +shelving sand-bank--in unstable equilibrium--needing only a touch to +send it slipping into a shapeless pile at the river's edge. That touch +had been given, and he was now in the midst of the motion of his falling +faith. He didn't know how much would stand when the sloughing ended. + +Andrew Pill had been a variety of things, a farmer, a dry-goods +merchant, and a traveling salesman, but in a revival quite like this of +his own, he had been converted and his life changed. He now desired to +help his fellow-men to a better life, and willingly went out among the +farmers, where pay was small. It was not true, therefore, that he had +gone into it because there was little work and good pay. He was really +an able man, and would have been a success in almost anything he +undertook; but his reading and thought, his easy intercourse with men +like Bacon and Radbourn, had long since undermined any real faith in the +current doctrine of retribution, and to-night, as he rode into the +night, he was feeling it all and suffering it all, forced to acknowledge +at last what had been long moving. + +The horse took the wrong road, and plodded along steadily, carrying him +away from his home, but he did not know it for a long time. When at last +he looked up and saw the road leading out upon the wide plain between +the belts of timber, leading away to Rock River, he gave a sigh of +relief. He could not meet his wife then; he must have a chance to think. + +Over him, the glittering, infinite sky of winter midnight soared, +passionless, yet accusing in its calmness, sweetness and majesty. What +was he that he could dogmatize on eternal life and the will of the Being +who stood behind that veil? And then would come rushing back that scene +in the school-house, the smell of the steaming garments, the gases from +the lamps, the roar of the stove, the sound of his own voice, strident, +dominating, so alien to his present mood, he could only shudder at it. + +He was worn out with the thinking when he drove into the stable at the +Merchants' House and roused up the sleeping hostler, who looked at him +suspiciously and demanded pay in advance. This seemed right in his +present mood. He was not to be trusted. + +When he flung himself face downward on his bed, the turmoil in his brain +was still going on. He couldn't hold one thought or feeling long; all +seemed slipping like water from his hands. + +He had in him great capacity for change, for growth. Circumstances had +been against his development thus far, but the time had come when growth +seemed to be defeat and failure. + + + + +VI. + + +Radbourn was thinking about him, two days after, as he sat in his friend +Judge Brown's law office, poring over a volume of law. He saw that +Bacon's treatment had been heroic; he couldn't get that pitiful +confusion of the preacher's face out of his mind. But, after all, +Bacon's seizing of just that instant was a stroke of genius. + +Some one touched him on the arm. + +"Why,--Elder,--Mr. Pill, how de do? Sit down. Draw up a chair." + +There was trouble in the preacher's face. "Can I see you, Radbourn, +alone?" + +"Certainly; come right into this room. No one will disturb us there." + +"Now, what can I do for you?" he said, as they sat down. + +"I want to talk with you about--about religion," said Pill, with a +little timid pause in his voice. + +Radbourn looked grave. "I'm afraid you've come to a dangerous man." + +"I want you to tell me what you think. I know you're a student. I want +to talk about my case," pursued the preacher, with a curious hesitancy. +"I want to ask a few questions on things." + +"Very well; sail in. I'll do the best I can," said Radbourn. + +"I've been thinking a good deal since that night. I've come to the +conclusion that I don't believe what I've been preaching. I thought I +did, but I didn't. I don't know _what_ I believe. Seems as if the land +had slid from under my feet. What am I to do?" + +"Say so," replied Radbourn, his eyes kindling. "Say so, and get out of +it. There's nothing worse than staying where you are. What have you +saved from the general land-slide?" + +Pill smiled a little. "I don't know." + +"Want me to cross-examine you and see, eh? Very well, here goes." He +settled back with a smile. "You believe in square dealing between man +and man?" + +"Certainly." + +"You believe in good deeds, candor and steadfastness?" + +"I do." + +"You believe in justice, equality of opportunity, and in liberty?" + +"Certainly I do." + +"You believe, in short, that a man should do unto others as he'd have +others do unto him; think right and live out his thoughts?" + +"All that I steadfastly believe." + +"Well, I guess your land-slide was mostly imaginary. The face of the +eternal rock is laid bare. You didn't recognize it at first, that's all. +One question more. You believe in truth?" + +"Certainly." + +"Well, truth is only found from the generalizations of facts. Before +calling a thing true, study carefully all accessible facts. Make your +religion practical. The matter-of-fact tone of Bacon would have had no +force if you had been preaching an earnest morality in place of an +antiquated terrorism." + +"I know it; I know it," sighed Pill, looking down. + +"Well, now, go back and tell 'em so. And then, if you can't keep your +place preaching what you do believe, get into something else. For the +sake of all morality and manhood, don't go on cursing yourself with +hypocrisy." + +Mr. Pill took a chew of tobacco, rather distractedly, and said: + +"I'd like to ask you a few questions." + +"No, not now. You think out your present position yourself. Find out +just what you have saved from your land-slide." + +The elder man rose; he hardly seemed the same man who had dominated his +people a few days before. He turned with still greater embarrassment. + +"I want to ask a favor. I'm going back to my family. I'm going to say +something of what you've said, to my congregation--but--I'm in debt--and +the moment they know I'm a backslider, they're going to bear down on me +pretty heavy. I'd like to be independent." + +"I see. How much do you need?" mused Radbourn. + +"I guess two hundred would stave off the worst of them." + +"I guess Brown and I can fix that. Come in again to-night. Or no, I'll +bring it round to you." + +The two men parted with a silent pressure of the hand that meant more +than any words. + +When Mr. Pill told his wife that he could preach no more, she cried, and +gasped, and scolded till she was in danger of losing her breath +entirely. "A guinea-hen sort of a woman" Councill called her. "She can +talk more an' say less'n any woman I ever see," was Bacon's verdict, +after she had been at dinner at his house. She was a perpetual irritant. + +Mr. Pill silenced her at last with a note of impatience approaching a +threat, and he drove away to the Corners to make his confession without +her. It was Saturday night, and Elder Wheat was preaching as he entered +the crowded room. A buzz and mumble of surprise stopped the orator for a +few moments, and he shook hands with Mr. Pill dubiously, not knowing +what to think of it all, but as he was in the midst of a very effective +oratorical scene, he went on. + +The silent man at his side felt as if he were witnessing a burlesque of +himself as he listened to the pitiless and lurid description of torment +which Elder Wheat poured forth--the same figures and threats he had used +a hundred times. He stirred uneasily in his seat, while the audience +paid so little attention that the perspiring little orator finally +called for a hymn, saying: + +"Elder Pill has returned from his unexpected absence, and will exhort in +his proper place." + +When the singing ended, Mr. Pill rose, looking more like himself than +since the previous Sunday. A quiet resolution was in his eyes and voice +as he said: + +"Elder Wheat has more right here than I have. I want 'o say that I'm +going to give up my church in Douglass and"---- A murmur broke out, +which he silenced with his raised hand. "I find I don't believe any +longer what I've been believing and preaching. Hold on! let me go on. I +don't quite know where I'll bring up, but I think my religion will +simmer down finally to about this: A full half-bushel to the half-bushel +and sixteen ounces to the pound." Here two or three cheered. "Do unto +others as you'd have others do unto you." Applause from several, quickly +suppressed as the speaker went on, Elder Wheat listening as if +petrified, with his mouth open. + +"I'm going out of preaching, at least for the present. After things get +into shape with me again, I may set up to teach people how to live, but +just now I can't do it. I've got all I can do to instruct myself. Just +one thing more. I owe two or three of you here. I've got the money for +William Bacon, James Bartlett and John Jennings. I turn the mare and +cutter over to Jacob Bensen, for the note he holds. I hain't got much +religion left, but I've got some morality. That's all I want to say +now." + +When he sat down there was a profound hush; then Bacon arose. + +"That's _man's_ talk, that is! An' I jest want 'o say, Andrew Pill, that +you kin jest forgit you owe me anything. An' if ye want any help come to +me. Y're jest gittun' ready to preach, 'n' I'm ready to give ye my +support." + +"That's the talk," said Councill. "I'm with ye on that." + +Pill shook his head. The painful silence which followed was broken by +the effusive voice of Wheat: + +"Let us pray--and remember our lost brother." + + * * * * * + +The urgings of the people were of no avail. Mr. Pill settled up his +affairs, and moved to Cresco, where he went back into trade with a +friend, and for three years attended silently to his customers, lived +down their curiosity and studied anew the problem of life. Then he moved +away, and no one knew whither. + +One day, last year, Bacon met Jennings on the road. + +"Heerd anything o' Pill lately?" + +"No; have you?" + +"Waal, yes. Brown told me he ran acrost him down in Eelinoy, doun' well, +too." + +"In dry goods?" + +"No, preachun'." + +"Preachun'?" + +"So Brown said. Kind of a free-f'r-all church, I reckon from what Jedge +told me. Built a new church, fills it twice a Sunday. I'd like to hear +him, but he's got t' be too big a gun f'r us. Ben studyun', they say; +went t' school." + +Jennings drove sadly and thoughtfully on. + +"Rather stumps Brother Jennings," laughed Bacon, in his leonine +fashion. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART III. + + +WILLIAM BACON'S HIRED MAN: AND DAUGHTER MARIETTA + + ... Love and youth pass swiftly: Love sings, + And April's sun fans warmer sunlight from his wings. + + +WILLIAM BACON'S MAN + +I. + + +The yellow March sun lay powerfully on the bare Iowa prairie, where the +plowed fields were already turning warm and brown, and only here and +there in a corner or on the north side of the fence did the sullen +drifts remain, and they were so dark and low that they hardly appeared +to break the mellow brown of the fields. + +There passed also an occasional flock of geese, cheerful harbingers of +spring, and the prairie-chickens had set up their morning symphony, +wide-swelling, wonderful with its prophecy of the new birth of grass and +grain and the springing life of all breathing things. The crow passed +now and then, uttering his resonant croak, but the crane had not yet +sent forth his bugle note. + +Lyman Gilman rested on his ax-helve at the wood-pile of Farmer Bacon to +listen to the music around him. In a vague way he was powerfully moved +by it. He heard the hens singing their weird, raucous, monotonous song, +and saw them burrowing in the dry chip-dust near him. He saw the young +colts and cattle frisking in the sunny space around the straw-stacks, +absorbed through his bare arms and uncovered head the heat of the sun, +and felt the soft wooing of the air so deeply that he broke into an +unwonted exclamation: + +"Glory! we'll be seeding by Friday, sure." + +This short and disappointing soliloquy was, after all, an expression of +deep emotion. To the Western farmer the very word "seeding" is a poem. +And these few words, coming from Lyman Gilman, meant more and expressed +more than many a large and ambitious spring-time song. + +But the glory of all the slumbrous landscape, the stately beauty of the +sky with its masses of fleecy vapor, were swept away by the sound of a +girl's voice humming, "Come to the Savior," while she bustled about the +kitchen near by. The windows were open. Ah! what suggestion to these +dwellers in a rigorous climate was in the first unsealing of the +windows! How sweet it was to the pale and weary women after their long +imprisonment! + +As Lyman sat down on his maple log to hear better, a plump face appeared +at the window, and a clear girl-voice said: + +"Smell anything, Lime?" + +He snuffed the air. "Cookies, by the great horn spoons!" he yelled, +leaping up. "Bring me some, an' see me eat; it'll do ye good." + +"Come an' get 'm," laughed the face at the window. + +"Oh, it's nicer out here, Merry Etty. What's the rush? Bring me out +some, an' set down on this log." + +With a nod Marietta disappeared, and soon came out with a plate of +cookies in one hand and a cup of milk in the other. + +"Poor little man, he's all tired out, ain't he?" + +Lime, taking the cue, collapsed in a heap, and said feebly, "Bread, +bread!" + +"Won't milk an' cookies do as well?" + +He brushed off the log and motioned her to sit down beside him, but she +hesitated a little and colored a little. + +"O Lime, s'pose somebody should see us?" + +"Let 'em. What in thunder do we care? Sit down an' gimme a holt o' them +cakes. I'm just about done up. I couldn't 'a' stood it another minute." + +She sat down beside him with a laugh and a pretty blush. She was in her +apron, and the sleeves of her dress were rolled to her elbows, +displaying the strong, round arms. Wholesome and sweet she looked and +smelled, the scent of the cooking round her. Lyman munched a couple of +the cookies and gulped a pint of milk before he spoke. + +"Whadda we care who sees us sittin' side b' side? Ain't we goin' t' be +married soon?" + +"Oh, them cookies in the oven!" she shrieked, leaping up and running to +the house. She looked back as she reached the kitchen door, however, and +smiled with a flushed face. Lime slapped his knee and roared with +laughter at his bold stroke. + +"Ho! ho!" he laughed. "Didn't I do it slick? Ain't nothin' green in _my_ +eye, I guess." In an intense and pleasurable abstraction he finished the +cookies and the milk. Then he yelled: + +"Hey! Merry--Merry Etty!" + +"Whadda ye want?" sang the girl from the window, her face still rosy +with confusion. + +"Come out here and git these things." + +The girl shook her head, with a laugh. + +"Come out an' git 'm, 'r by jingo I'll throw 'em at ye! Come on, now!" + +The girl looked at the huge, handsome fellow, the sun falling on his +golden hair and beard, and came slowly out to him--came creeping along +with her hand outstretched for the plate which Lime, with a laugh in his +sunny blue eyes, extended at the full length of his bare arm. The girl +made a snatch at it, but his left hand caught her by the wrist, and away +went cup and plate as he drew her to him and kissed her in spite of her +struggles. + +"My! ain't you strong!" she said, half-ruefully and half-admiringly, as +she shrugged her shoulders. "If you'd use a little more o' _that_ +choppin' wood, Dad wouldn't 'a' lost s' much money by yeh." + +Lime grew grave. + +"There's the hog in the fence, Merry; what's yer dad goin' t' say"---- + +"About what?" + +"About our gitt'n' married this spring." + +"I guess you'd better find out what _I'm_ a-goin' t' say, Lime Gilman, +'fore you pitch into Dad." + +"I _know_ what you're a-goin' t' say." + +"No, y' don't." + +"Yes, but I _do_, though." + +"Well, ask me, and see, if you think you're so smart. Jest as like 's +not, you'll slip up." + +"All right; here goes. Marietty Bacon, ain't you an' Lime Gilman goin' +t' be married?" + +"No, sir, we ain't," laughed the girl, snatching up the plate and +darting away to the house, where she struck up "Weevily Wheat," and went +busily on about her cooking. Lime threw a kiss, at her, and fell to work +on his log with startling energy. + +Lyman looked forward to his interview with the old man with as much +trepidation as he had ever known, though commonly he had little fear of +anything--but a girl. + +Marietta was not only the old man's only child, his housekeeper, his +wife having at last succumbed to the ferocious toil of the farm. It was +reasonable to suppose, therefore, that he would surrender his claim on +the girl reluctantly. Rough as he was, he loved Marietta strongly, and +would find it exceedingly hard to get along without her. + +Lyman mused on these things as he drove the gleaming ax into the huge +maple logs. He was something more than the usual hired man, being a +lumberman from the Wisconsin pineries, where he had sold out his +interest in a camp not three weeks before the day he began work for +Bacon. He had a nice "little wad o' money" when he left the camp and +started for La Crosse, but he had been robbed in his hotel the first +night in the city, and was left nearly penniless. It was a great blow to +him, for, as he said, every cent of that money "stood fer hard knocks +an' poor feed. When I smelt of it I could jest see the cold, frosty +mornin's and the late nights. I could feel the hot sun on my back like +it was when I worked in the harvest-field. By jingo! It kind o' made my +toes curl up." + +But he went resolutely out to work again, and here he was chopping wood +in old man Bacon's yard, thinking busily on the talk which had just +passed between him and Marietta. + +"By jingo!" he said all at once, stopping short, with the ax on his +shoulder. "If I hadn't 'a' been robbed I wouldn't 'a' come here--I +never'd met Merry. Thunder and jimson root! Wasn't that a narrow +escape?" + +And then he laughed so heartily that the girl looked out of the window +again to see what in the world he was doing. He had his hat in his hand +and was whacking his thigh with it. + +"Lyman Gilman, what in the world ails you to-day? It's perfectly +ridiculous the way you yell and talk t' y'rself out there on the chips. +You beat the hens, I declare if you don't." + +Lime put on his hat and walked up to the window, and, resting his great +bare arms on the sill, and his chin on his arms, said: + +"Merry, I'm goin' to tackle 'Dad' this afternoon. He'll be settin' up +the new seeder, and I'm goin' t' climb right on the back of his neck. +He's jest _got_ t' give me a chance." + +Marietta looked sober in sympathy. + +"Well! P'raps it's best to have it over with, Lime, but someway I feel +kind o' scary about it." + +Lime stood for a long time looking in at the window, watching the +light-footed girl as she set the table in the middle of the sun-lighted +kitchen floor. The kettle hissed, the meat sizzled, sending up a +delicious odor; a hen stood in the open door and sang a sort of cheery +half-human song, while to and fro moved the sweet-faced, lithe and +powerful girl, followed by the smiling eyes at the window. + +"Merry, you look purty as a picture. You look just like the wife I be'n +a-huntin' for all these years, sure 's shootin'." + +Marietta colored with pleasure. + +"Does Dad pay you to stand an' look at me an' say pretty things t' the +cook?" + +"No, he don't. But I'm willin' t' do it without pay. I could jest stand +here till kingdom come an' look at you. Hello! I hear a wagon. I guess I +better hump into that wood-pile." + +"I think so, too. Dinner's most ready, and Dad'll be here soon." + +Lime was driving away furiously at a tough elm log when Farmer Bacon +drove into the yard with a new seeder in his wagon. Lime whacked away +busily while Bacon stabled the team, and in a short time Marietta +called, in a long-drawn, musical fashion: + +"Dinner-r-r!" + +After sozzling their faces at the well the two men went in and sat down +at the table. Bacon was not much of a talker at any time, and at +mealtime, in seeding, eating was the main business in hand; therefore +the meal was a silent one, Marietta and Lime not caring to talk on +general topics. The hour was an anxious one for her, and an important +one for him. + +"Wal, now, Lime, seedun' 's the nex' thing," said Bacon, as he shoved +back his chair and glared around from under his bushy eyebrows, "We +can't do too much this afternoon. That seeder's got t' be set up an' a +lot o' seed-wheat cleaned up. You unload the machine while I feed the +pigs." + +Lime sat still till the old man was heard outside calling "Oo-ee, +poo-ee" to the pigs in the yard; then he smiled at Marietta, but she +said: + +"He's got on one of his fits, Lime; I don't b'lieve you'd better tackle +him t'-day." + +"Don't you worry; I'll fix him. Come, now, give me a kiss." + +"Why, you great thing! You--took"---- + +"I know, but I want you to _give_ 'em to me. Just walk right up to me +an' give me a smack t' bind the bargain." + +"I ain't made any bargain," laughed the girl. Then, feeling the force of +his tender tone, she added: "Will you behave, and go right off to your +work?" + +"Jest like a little man--hope t' die!" + +"_Lime!_" roared the old man from the barn. + +"Hello!" replied Lime, grinning joyously and winking at the girl, as +much as to say, "This would paralyze the old man if he saw it." + +He went out to the shed where Bacon was at work, as serene as if he had +not a fearful task on hand. He was apprehensive that the father might +"gig back" unless rightly approached, and so he awaited a good +opportunity. + +The right moment seemed to present itself along about the middle of the +afternoon. Bacon was down on the ground under the machine, tightening +some burrs. This was a good chance for two reasons. In the first place +the keen, almost savage eyes of Bacon were no longer where they could +glare on him, and in spite of his cool exterior Lime had just as soon +not have the old man looking at him. + +Besides, the old farmer had been telling about his "river eighty," which +was without a tenant; the man who had taken it, having lost his wife, +had grown disheartened and had given it up. + +"It's an almighty good chance for a man with a small family. Good house +an' barn, good land. A likely young feller with a team an' a woman could +do tip-top on that eighty. If he wanted more, I'd let him have an eighty +j'inun'"---- + +"I'd like t' try that m'self," said Lime, as a feeler. The old fellow +said nothing in reply for a moment. + +"Ef you had a team an' tools an' a woman, I'd jest as lief you'd have it +as anybody." + +"Sell me your blacks, and I'll pay half down--the balance in the fall. I +can pick up some tools, and as for a woman, Merry Etty an' me have +talked that over to-day. She's ready to--ready to marry me whenever you +say go." + +There was an ominous silence under the seeder, as if the father could +not believe his ears. + +"What's--what's that?" he stuttered. "Who'd you say? What about Merry +Etty?" + +"She's agreed to marry me." + +"The hell you say!" roared Bacon, as the truth burst upon him. "So +that's what you do when I go off to town and leave you to chop wood. So +you're goun' to git married, hey?" + +He was now where Lime could see him, glaring up into his smiling blue +eyes. Lime stood his ground. + +"Yes, sir. That's the calculation." + +"Well, I guess I'll have somethin' t' say about that," nodding his head +violently. + +"I rather expected y' would. Blaze away. Your privilege--my bad luck. +Sail in, ol' man. What's y'r objection to me fer a son-in-law?" + +"Don't you worry, young feller. I'll come at it soon enough," went on +Bacon, as he turned up another burr in a very awkward corner. In his +nervous excitement the wrench slipped, banging his knuckle. + +"Ouch! Thunder--m-m-m!" howled and snarled the wounded man. + +"What's the matter? Bark y'r knuckle?" queried Lime, feeling a mighty +impulse to laugh. But when he saw the old savage straighten up and glare +at him he sobered. Bacon was now in a frightful temper. The veins in his +great, bare, weather-beaten neck swelled dangerously. + +"Jest let me say right here that I've had enough o' you. You can't live +on the same acre with my girl another day." + +"What makes ye think I can't?" It was now the young man's turn to draw +himself up, and as he faced the old man, his arms folded and each vast +hand grasping an elbow, he looked like a statue of red granite, and the +hands resembled the paws of a crouching lion: but his eyes smiled. + +"I don't _think_, I know ye won't." + +"What's the objection to me?" + +"Objection? Hell! What's the inducement? My hired man, an' not three +shirts to yer back!" + +"That's another; I've got four. Say, old man, did you ever work out for +a living?" + +"That's none o' your business," growled Bacon, a little taken down. +"I've worked, an' scraped, an' got t'gether a little prop'ty here, an' +they ain't no sucker like you goun' to come 'long here, an' live off me, +an' spend my prop'ty after I'm dead. You can jest bet high on that." + +"Who's goin' t' live on ye?" + +"You're aimun' to." + +"I ain't, neither." + +"Yes, y'are. You've loafed on me ever since I hired ye." + +"That's a"---- Lime checked himself for Marietta's sake, and the enraged +father went on: + +"I hired ye t' cut wood, an' you've gone an' fooled my daughter away +from me. Now you jest figger up what I owe ye, and git out o' here. Ye +can't go too soon t' suit _me_." + +Bacon was renowned as the hardest man in Cedar County to handle, and +though he was getting old, he was still a terror to his neighbors when +roused. He was honest, temperate, and a good neighbor until something +carried him off his balance; then he became as cruel as a panther and as +savage as a grizzly. All this Lime knew, but it did not keep his anger +down so much as did the thought of Marietta. His silence infuriated +Bacon, who yelled hoarsely: + +"Git out o' this!" + +"Don't be in a rush, ol' man"---- + +Bacon hurled himself upon Lime, who threw out one hand and stopped him, +while he said in a low voice: + +"Stay right where you are, ol' man. I'm dangerous. It's for Merry's +sake"---- + +The infuriated old man struck at him. Lime warded off the blow, and with +a sudden wrench and twist threw him to the ground with frightful force. +Before Bacon could rise, Marietta, who had witnessed the scene, came +flying from the house. + +"Lime! Father! What are you doing?" + +"I--couldn't help it, Merry. It was him 'r me," said Lime, almost +sadly. + +"Dad, ain't you got no sense? What 're you thinking of? You jest stop +right now. I won't have it." + +He rose while she clung to him; he seemed a little dazed. It was the +first time he had ever been thrown, and he could not but feel a certain +respect for his opponent, but he could not give way. + +"Pack up yer duds," he snarled, "an' git off'n my land. I'll have the +money fer ye when ye come back. I'll give ye jest five minutes to git +clear o' here. Merry, you stay here." + +The young man saw it was useless to remain, as it would only excite the +old man; and so, with a look of apology, not without humor, at Marietta, +he went to the house to get his valise. The girl wept silently while the +father raged up and down. His mood frightened her. + +"I thought you had more sense than t' take up with such a dirty houn'." + +"He ain't a houn'," she blazed forth, "and he's just as good and clean +as you are." + +"Shut up! Don't let me hear another word out o' your head. I'm boss here +yet, I reckon." + +Lime came out with his valise in his hand. + +"Good-by, Merry," he said cheerily. She started to go to him, but her +father's rough grasp held her. + +"Set _down_, an' stay there." + +Lime was going out of the gate. + +"Here! Come and get y'r money," yelled the old man, extending some +bills. "Here's twenty"----- + +"Go to thunder with your money," retorted Lime. "I've had my pay for my +month's work." As he said that, he thought of the sunny kitchen and the +merry girl, and his throat choked. Good-by to the sweet girl whose smile +was so much to him, and to the happy noons and nights her eyes had made +for him. He waved his hat at her as he stood in the open gate, and the +sun lighted his handsome head into a sort of glory in her eyes. Then he +turned and walked rapidly off down the road, not looking back. + +The girl, when she could no longer see him, dashed away, and, sobbing +violently, entered the house. + + + + +II. + + +There was just a suspicion of light in the east, a mere hint of a glow, +when Lyman walked cautiously around the corner of the house and tapped +at Marietta's window. She was sleeping soundly and did not hear, for she +had been restless during the first part of the night. He tapped again, +and the girl woke without knowing what woke her. + +Lyman put the blade of his pocket-knife under the window and raised it +a little, and then placed his lips to the crack, and spoke in a +sepulchral tone, half groan, half whisper: + +"Merry! Merry Etty!" + +The dazed girl sat up in bed and listened, while her heart almost stood +still. + +"Merry, it's me--Lime. Come to the winder." The girl hesitated, and +Lyman spoke again. + +"Come, I hain't got much time. This is your last chance t' see me. It's +now 'r never." + +The girl slipped out of bed and, wrapping herself in a shawl, crept to +the window. + +"Boost on that winder," commanded Lyman. She raised it enough to admit +his head, which came just above the sill; then she knelt on the floor by +the window. + +Her eyes stared wide and dark. "Lime, what in the world do you mean"---- + +"I mean business," he replied. "I ain't no last year's chicken; I know +when the old man sleeps the soundest." He chuckled pleasantly. + +"How'd y' fool old Rove?" + +"Never mind about that now; they's something more important on hand. +You've got t' go with me." + +She drew back. "Oh, Lime, I can't!" + +He thrust a great arm in and caught her by the wrist. + +"Yes, y' can. This is y'r last chance. If I go off without ye t'night, +I never come back. What make ye gig back? Are ye 'fraid o' me?" + +"N-no; but--but"---- + +"But what, Merry Etty?" + +"It ain't right to go an' leave Dad all alone. Where y' goin' t' take +me, anyhow?" + +"Milt Jennings let me have his horse an' buggy; they're down the road a +piece, an' we'll go right down to Rock River and be married by sun-up." + +The girl still hesitated, her firm, boyish will unwontedly befogged. +Resolute as she was, she could not at once accede to his demand. + +"Come, make up your mind soon. The old man 'll fill me with buck-shot if +he catches sight o' me." He drew her arm out of the window and laid his +bearded cheek to it. "Come, little one, we're made for each other; God +knows it. Come! It's him 'r me." + +The girl's head dropped, consented. + +"That's right! Now a kiss to bind the bargain. There! What, cryin'? No +more o' that, little one. Now I'll give you jest five minutes to git on +your Sunday-go-t'-meetin' clo'es. Quick, there goes a rooster. It's +gittin' white in the east." + +The man turned his back to the window and gazed at the western sky with +a wealth of unuttered and unutterable exultation in his heart. Far off a +rooster gave a long, clear blast--would it be answered in the barn? +Yes; some wakeful ear had caught it, and now came the answer, but faint, +muffled and drowsy. The dog at his feet whined uneasily as if suspecting +something wrong. The wind from the south was full of the wonderful odor +of springing grass, warm, brown earth, and oozing sap. Overhead, to the +west, the stars were shining in the cloudless sky, dimmed a little in +brightness by the faint silvery veil of moisture in the air. The man's +soul grew very tender as he stood waiting for his bride. He was rough, +illiterate, yet there was something fine about him after all, a kind of +simplicity and a gigantic, leonine tenderness. + +He heard his sweetheart moving about inside, and thought: "The old man +won't hold out when he finds we're married. He can't get along without +her. If he does, why, I'll rent a farm here, and we'll go to work +housekeepin'. I can git the money. She sha'n't always be poor," he +ended, with a vow. + +The window was raised again, and the girl's voice was heard low and +tremulous: "Lime, I'm ready, but I wish we didn't"---- + +He put his arm around her waist and helped her out, and did not put her +down till they reached the road. She was completely dressed, even to her +hat and shoes, but she mourned: + +"My hair is every-which-way; Lime, how can I be married so?" + +They were nearing the horse and buggy now, and Lime laughed. "Oh, we'll +stop at Jennings's and fix up. Milt knows what's up, and has told his +mother by this time. So just laugh as jolly as you can." + +Soon they were in the buggy, the impatient horse swung into the road at +a rattling pace, and as Marietta leaned back in the seat, thinking of +what she had done, she cried lamentably, in spite of all the caresses +and pleadings of her lover. + +But the sun burst up from the plain, the prairie-chickens took up their +mighty chorus on the hills, robins met them on the way, flocks of wild +geese, honking cheerily, drove far overhead toward the north, and, with +these sounds of a golden spring day in her ears, the bride grew +cheerful, and laughed. + + +III. + +At about the time the sun was rising, Farmer Bacon, roused from his +sleep by the crowing of the chickens on the dry knolls in the fields as +well as by those in the barnyard, rolled out of bed wearily, wondering +why he should feel so drowsy. Then he remembered the row with Lime and +his subsequent inability to sleep with thinking over it. There was a +dull pain in his breast, which made him uncomfortable. + +As was his usual custom, he went out into the kitchen and built the fire +for Marietta, filled the tea-kettle with water, and filled the +water-bucket in the sink. Then he went to her bedroom door and knocked +with his knuckles as he had done for years in precisely the same +fashion. + +Rap--rap--rap. "Hello, Merry! Time t' git up. Broad daylight, an' birds +a-singun'." + +Without waiting for an answer he went out to the barn and worked away at +his chores. He took such delight in the glorious morning and the +turbulent life of the farmyard that his heart grew light and he hummed a +tune which sounded like the merry growl of a lion. "Poo-ee, poo-ee," he +called to the pigs as they swarmed across the yard. + +"Ahrr! you big, fat rascals, them hams o' yourn is clear money. One of +ye shall go t' buy Merry a new dress," he said as he glanced at the +house and saw the smoke pouring out the stove-pipe. "Merry 's a good +girl; she's stood by her old pap when other girls 'u'd 'a' gone back on +'im." + +While currying horses he went all over the ground of the quarrel +yesterday, and he began to see it in a different light. He began to see +that Lyman was a good man and an able man, and that his own course was a +foolish one. + +"When I git mad," he confessed to himself, "I don't know anythin'. But +I won't give her up. She ain't old 'nough t' marry yet--and, besides, I +need her." + +After finishing his chores, as usual, he went to the well and washed his +face and hands, then entered the kitchen--to find the tea-kettle boiling +over, and no signs of breakfast anywhere, and no sign of the girl. + +"Well, I guess she felt sleepy this mornin'. Poor gal! Mebbe she cried +half the night." + +"Merry!" he called, gently, at the door. "Merry, m' gal! Pap needs his +breakfast." + +There was no reply, and the old man's face stiffened into a wild +surprise. He knocked heavily again and got no reply, and, with a white +face and shaking hand, he flung the door open and gazed at the empty +bed. His hand dropped to his side; his head turned slowly from the bed +to the open window; he rushed forward and looked out on the ground, +where he saw the tracks of a man. + +He fell heavily into the chair by the bed, while a deep groan broke from +his stiff and twitching lips. + +"She's left me! She's left me!" + +For a long half-hour the iron-muscled old man sat there motionless, +hearing not the songs of the hens or the birds far out in the brilliant +sunshine. He had lost sight of his farm, his day's work, and felt no +hunger for food. He did not doubt that her going was final. He felt +that she was gone from him forever. If she ever came back it would not +be as his daughter, but as the wife of Gilman. She had deserted him, +fled in the night like a thief; his heart began to harden again, and he +rose stiffly. His native stubbornness began to assert itself, the first +great shock over, and he went out to the kitchen, and prepared, as best +he could, a breakfast, and sat down to it. In some way his appetite +failed him, and he fell to thinking over his past life, of the death of +his wife, and the early death of his only boy. He was still trying to +think what his life would be in the future without his girl, when two +carriages drove into the yard. It was about the middle of the forenoon, +and the prairie-chickens had ceased to boom and squawk; in fact, that +was why he knew that he had been sitting two hours at the table. Before +he could rise he heard swift feet and a merry voice. Then Marietta burst +through the door. + +"Hello, Pap! How you makin' out with break"---- She saw a look on his +face that went to her heart like a knife. She saw a lonely and deserted +old man sitting at his cold and cheerless breakfast, and with a +remorseful cry she ran across the floor and took him in her arms, +kissing him again and again, while Mr. John Jennings and his wife stood +in the door. + +"Poor ol' Pap! Merry couldn't leave you. She's come back to stay as long +as he lives." + +The old man remained cold and stern. His deep voice had a raucous note +in it as he pushed her away from him, noticing no one else. + +"But how do you come back t' me?" + +The girl grew rosy, but she stood proudly up. + +"I come back a wife of a _man_, Pap; a wife like my mother, an' this t' +hang beside hers;" and she laid down a rolled piece of parchment. + +"Take it an' go," growled he; "take yer lazy lubber an' git out o' my +sight. I raised ye, took keer o' ye when ye was little, sent ye t' +school, bought ye dresses,--done every thin' for ye I could, 'lowin' t' +have ye stand by me when I got old,--but no, ye must go back on yer ol' +pap, an' go off in the night with a good-f'r-nothin' houn' that nobuddy +knows anything about--a feller that never done a thing fer ye in the +world"---- + +"What did you do for mother that she left _her_ father and mother and +went with you? How much did you have when you took her away from her +good home an' brought her away out here among the wolves an' Indians? +I've heard you an' her say a hundred times that you didn't have a chair +in the house. Now, why do you talk so t' me when I want t' git--when +Lime comes and asks for me?" + +The old man was staggered. He looked at the smiling face of John +Jennings and the tearful face of Mrs. Jennings, who had returned with +Lyman. But his face hardened again as he caught sight of Lime looking in +at him. His absurd pride would not let him relent. Lime saw it, and +stepped forward. + +"Ol' man, I want t' take a little inning now. I'm a fair, square man. I +asked ye fer Merry as a man should. I told you I'd had hard luck, when I +first came here. I had five thousand dollars in clean cash stole from +me. I hain't got a thing now except credit, but that's good fer enough +t' stock a little farm with. Now, I wan' to be fair and square in this +thing. You wan' to rent a farm; I need one. Let me have the river +eighty, or I'll take the whole business on a share of a third an' Merry +Etty, and I to stay here with you jest as if nothin' 'd happened. Come, +now, what d' y' say?" + +There was something winning in the whole bearing of the man as he stood +before the father, who remained silent and grim. + +"Or if you don't do that, why, there's nothin' left fer Merry an' me but +to go back to La Crosse, where I can have my choice of a dozen farms. +Now this is the way things is standin'. I don't want to be underhanded +about this thing"---- + +"That's a fair offer," said Mr. Jennings in the pause which followed. +"You'd better do it, neighbor Bacon. Nobuddy need know how things +stood; they were married in my house--I thought that 'u'd be best. You +can't live without your girl," he went on, "any more 'n I could without +my boy. You'd better"---- + +The figure at the table straightened up. Under his tufted eyebrows his +keen gray eyes flashed from one to the other. His hands knotted. + +"Go slow!" went on the smooth voice of Jennings, known all the country +through as a peace-maker. "Take time t' think it over. Stand out, an' +you'll live here alone without chick 'r child; give in, and this house +'ll bubble over with noise and young ones. Now is short, and forever's a +long time to feel sorry in." + +The old man at the table knitted his eyebrows, and a distorted, +quivering, ghastly smile broke out on his face. His chest heaved; then +he burst forth: + +"Gal, yank them gloves off, an' git me something to eat--breakfus 'r +dinner, I don't care which. Lime, you infernal idiot, git out there and +gear up them horses. What in thunder you foolun' around about hyere in +seed'n'? Come, hustle, all o' ye!" + +And then they shouted in laughter, while the cause of it all strode +unsteadily but resolutely out toward the barn, followed by the +bridegroom, who was laughing--silently. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART IV. + +SIM BURNS'S WIFE: A PRAIRIE HEROINE + + A tale of toil that's never done I tell; + Of life where love's a fleeting wing + Above the woman's hopeless hell + Of ceaseless, year-round journeying. + + +SIM BURNS'S WIFE. + +I. + + +Lucretia Burns had never been handsome, even in her days of early +girlhood, and now she was middle-aged, distorted with work and +child-bearing, and looking faded and worn as one of the boulders that +lay beside the pasture fence near where she sat milking a large white +cow. + +She had no shawl or hat and no shoes, for it was still muddy in the +little yard, where the cattle stood patiently fighting the flies and +mosquitoes swarming into their skins, already wet with blood. The +evening was oppressive with its heat, and a ring of just-seen +thunder-heads gave premonitions of an approaching storm. + +She rose from the cow's side at last, and, taking her pails of foaming +milk, staggered toward the gate. The two pails hung from her lean arms, +her bare feet slipped on the filthy ground, her greasy and faded calico +dress showed her tired, swollen ankles, and the mosquitoes swarmed +mercilessly on her neck and bedded themselves in her colorless hair. + +The children were quarreling at the well, and the sound of blows could +be heard. Calves were querulously calling for their milk, and little +turkeys, lost in a tangle of grass, were piping plaintively. + +The sun just setting struck through a long, low rift like a boy peeping +beneath the eaves of a huge roof. Its light brought out Lucretia's face +as she leaned her sallow forehead on the top bar of the gate and looked +toward the west. + +It was a pitifully worn, almost tragic face--long, thin, sallow, +hollow-eyed. The mouth had long since lost the power to shape itself +into a kiss, and had a droop at the corners which seemed to announce a +breaking-down at any moment into a despairing wail. The collarless neck +and sharp shoulders showed painfully. + +She felt vaguely that the night was beautiful. The setting sun, the +noise of frogs, the nocturnal insects beginning to pipe--all in some way +called her girlhood back to her, though there was little in her girlhood +to give her pleasure. Her large gray eyes grew round, deep and wistful +as she saw the illimitable craggy clouds grow crimson, roll slowly up, +and fire at the top. A childish scream recalled her. + +"Oh, my soul!" she half groaned, half swore, as she lifted her milk and +hurried to the well. Arriving there, she cuffed the children right and +left with, all her remaining strength, saying in justification: + +"My soul! can't you--you young 'uns give me a minute's peace? Land +knows, I'm almost gone up; washin', an' milkin' six cows, and tendin' +you, and cookin' f'r _him_, ought 'o be enough f'r one day! Sadie, you +let him drink now 'r I'll slap your head off, you hateful thing! Why +can't you behave, when you know I'm jest about dead?" She was weeping +now, with nervous weakness. "Where's y'r pa?" she asked after a moment, +wiping her eyes with her apron. + +One of the group, the one cuffed last, sniffed out, in rage and grief: + +"He's in the cornfield; where'd ye s'pose he was?" + +"Good land! why don't the man work all night? Sile, you put that dipper +in that milk agin, an' I'll whack you till your head'll swim! Sadie, le' +go Pet, an' go 'n get them turkeys out of the grass 'fore it gits dark! +Bob, you go tell y'r dad if he wants the rest o' them cows milked he's +got 'o do it himself. I jest can't, and what's more, I _won't_," she +ended, rebelliously. + +Having strained the milk and fed the children, she took some skimmed +milk from the cans and started to feed the calves bawling strenuously +behind the barn. The eager and unruly brutes pushed and struggled to get +into the pails all at once, and in consequence spilt nearly all of the +milk on the ground. This was the last trial; the woman fell down on the +damp grass and moaned and sobbed like a crazed thing. The children came +to seek her and stood around like little partridges, looking at her in +scared silence, till at last the little one began to wail. Then the +mother rose wearily to her feet, and walked slowly back toward the +house. + +She heard Burns threshing his team at the well, with the sound of oaths. +He was tired, hungry and ill-tempered, but she was too desperate to +care. His poor, overworked team did not move quickly enough for him, and +his extra long turn in the corn had made him dangerous. His eyes gleamed +wrathfully from his dust-laid face. + +"Supper ready?" he growled. + +"Yes, two hours ago." + +"Well, I can't help it!" he said, understanding her reproach. "That +devilish corn is gettin' too tall to plow again, and I've got 'o go +through it to-morrow or not at all. Cows milked?" + +"Part of 'em." + +"How many left?" + +"Three." + +"Hell! Which three?" + +"Spot, and Brin, and Cherry." + +"_Of_ course, left the three worst ones. I'll be damned if I milk a cow +to-night. I don't see why you play out jest the nights I need ye most." +Here he kicked a child out of the way. "Git out o' that! Hain't you got +no sense? I'll learn ye"---- + +"Stop that, Sim Burns," cried the woman, snatching up the child. "You're +a reg'lar ol' hyeny,--that's what you are," she added defiantly, roused +at last from her lethargy. + +"You're a--beauty, that's what _you_ are," he said, pitilessly. "Keep +your brats out f'um under my feet." And he strode off to a barn after +his team, leaving her with a fierce hate in her heart. She heard him +yelling at his team in their stalls: "Git around there, damn yeh." + +The children had had their supper; so she took them to bed. She was +unusually tender to them, for she wanted to make up in some way for her +previous harshness. The ferocity of her husband had shown up her own +petulant temper hideously, and she sat and sobbed in the darkness a long +time beside the cradle where little Pet slept. + +She heard Burns come growling in and tramp about, but she did not rise. +The supper was on the table; he could wait on himself. There was an +awful feeling at her heart as she sat there and the house grew quiet. +She thought of suicide in a vague way; of somehow taking her children in +her arms and sinking into a lake somewhere, where she would never more +be troubled, where she could sleep forever, without toil or hunger. + +Then she thought of the little turkeys wandering in the grass, of the +children sleeping at last, of the quiet, wonderful stars. Then she +thought of the cows left unmilked, and listened to them stirring +uneasily in the yard. She rose, at last, and stole forth. She could not +rid herself of the thought that they would suffer. She knew what the +dull ache in the full breasts of a mother was, and she could not let +them stand at the bars all night moaning for relief. + +The mosquitoes had gone, but the frogs and katydids still sang, while +over in the west Venus shone. She was a long time milking the cows; her +hands were so tired she had often to stop and rest them, while the tears +fell unheeded into the pail. She saw and felt little of the external as +she sat there. She thought in vague retrospect of how sweet it seemed +the first time Sim came to see her; of the many rides to town with him +when he was an accepted lover; of the few things he had given her--a +coral breastpin and a ring. + +She felt no shame at her present miserable appearance; she was past +personal pride. She hardly felt as if the tall, strong girl, attractive +with health and hope, could be the same soul as the woman who now sat in +utter despair listening to the heavy breathing of the happy cows, +grateful for the relief from their burden of milk. + +She contrasted her lot with that of two or three women that she knew +(not a very high standard), who kept hired help, and who had fine houses +of four or five rooms. Even the neighbors were better off than she, for +they didn't have such quarrels. But she wasn't to blame--Sim didn't---- +Then her mind changed to a dull resentment against "things." Everything +seemed against her. + +She rose at last and carried her second load of milk to the well, +strained it, washed out the pails, and, after bathing her tired feet in +a tub that stood there, she put on a pair of horrible shoes, without +stockings, and crept stealthily into the house. Sim did not hear her as +she slipped up the stairs to the little low, unfinished chamber beside +her oldest children. She could not bear to sleep near _him_ that +night,--she wanted a chance to sob herself to quiet. + +As for Sim, he was a little disturbed, but would as soon have cut off +his head as acknowledge himself in the wrong. As he went to bed, and +found her still away, he yelled up the stairway: + +"Say, o' woman, ain't ye comin' to bed?" Upon receiving no answer he +rolled his aching body into the creaking bed. "Do as y' damn please +about it. If y' want to sulk y' can." And in such wise the family grew +quiet in sleep, while the moist, warm air pulsed with the ceaseless +chime of the crickets. + + + + +II. + + +When Sim Burns woke the next morning he felt a sharper twinge of +remorse. It was not a broad or well-defined feeling--just a sense that +ho had been unduly irritable, not that on the whole he was not in the +right. Little Pet lay with the warm June sunshine filling his baby eyes, +curiously content in striking at flies that buzzed around his little +mouth. + +The man thrust his dirty, naked feet into his huge boots, and, without +washing his face or combing his hair, went out to the barn to do his +chores. + +He was a type of the average prairie farmer, and his whole surrounding +was typical of the time. He had a quarter-section of fine level land, +bought with incredible toil, but his house was a little box-like +structure, costing, perhaps, five hundred dollars. It had three rooms +and the ever-present summer kitchen attached to the back. It was +unpainted and had no touch of beauty--a mere box. + +His stable was built of slabs and banked and covered with straw. It +looked like a den, was low and long, and had but one door in the end. +The cow-yard held ten or fifteen cattle of various kinds, while a few +calves were bawling from a pen near by. Behind the barn, on the west and +north, was a fringe of willows forming a "wind-break." A few broken and +discouraged fruit trees standing here and there among the weeds formed +the garden. In short, he was spoken of by his neighbors as "a +hard-working cuss, and tol'ably well fixed." + +No grace had come or ever could come into his life. Back of him were +generations of men like himself, whose main business had been to work +hard, live miserably, and beget children to take their places when they +died. + +His courtship had been delayed so long on account of poverty that it +brought little of humanizing emotion into his life. He never mentioned +his love-life now, or if he did, it was only to sneer obscenely at it. +He had long since ceased to kiss his wife or even speak kindly to her. +There was no longer any sanctity to life or love. He chewed tobacco and +toiled on from year to year without any very clearly defined idea of the +future. His life was mainly regulated from without. + +He was tall, dark and strong, in a flat-chested, slouching sort of way, +and had grown neglectful of even decency in his dress. He wore the +American farmer's customary outfit of rough brown pants, hickory shirt +and greasy wool hat. It differed from his neighbors' mainly in being a +little dirtier and more ragged. His grimy hands were broad and strong as +the clutch of a bear, and he was a "terrible feller to turn off work," +as Councill said. "I 'druther have Sim Burns work for me one day than +some men three. He's a linger." He worked with unusual speed this +morning, and ended by milking all the cows himself as a sort of savage +penance for his misdeeds the previous evening, muttering in +self-defense: + +"Seems 's if ever' cussid thing piles on to me at once. That corn, the +road-tax, and hayin' comin' on, and now _she_ gits her back up"---- + +When he went back to the well he sloshed himself thoroughly in the +horse-trough and went to the house. He found breakfast ready, but his +wife was not in sight. The older children were clamoring around the +uninviting breakfast table, spread with cheap ware and with boiled +potatoes and fried salt pork as the principal dishes. + +"Where's y'r ma?" he asked, with a threatening note in his voice, as he +sat down by the table. + +"She's in the bedroom." + +He rose and pushed open the door. The mother sat with the babe in her +lap, looking out of the window down across the superb field of timothy, +moving like a lake of purple water. She did not look around. She only +grew rigid. Her thin neck throbbed with the pulsing of blood to her +head. + +"What's got into you _now_?" he said, brutally. "Don't be a fool. Come +out and eat breakfast with me, an' take care o' y'r young ones." + +She neither moved nor made a sound. With an oath he turned on his heel +and went out to the table. Eating his breakfast in his usual wolfish +fashion, he went out into the hot sun with his team and riding-plow, not +a little disturbed by this new phase of his wife's "cantankerousness." +He plowed steadily and sullenly all the forenoon, in the terrific heat +and dust. The air was full of tempestuous threats, still and sultry, one +of those days when work is a punishment. When he came in at noon he +found things the same--dinner on the table, but his wife out in the +garden with the youngest child. + +"I c'n stand it as long as _she_ can," he said to himself, in the +hearing of the children, as he pushed back from the table and went back +to work. + +When he had finished the field of corn it was after sundown, and he came +up to the house, hot, dusty, his shirt wringing wet with sweat, and his +neck aching with the work of looking down all day at the corn-rows. His +mood was still stern. The multitudinous lift, and stir, and sheen of the +wide, green field had been lost upon him. + +"I wonder if she's milked them cows," he muttered to himself. He gave a +sigh of relief to find she had. But she had done so not for his sake, +but for the sake of the poor, patient dumb brutes. + +When he went to the bedroom after supper, he found that the cradle and +his wife's few little boxes and parcels--poor, pathetic properties!--had +been removed to the garret, which they called a chamber, and he knew he +was to sleep alone again. + +"She'll git over it, I guess." He was very tired, but he didn't feel +quite comfortable enough to sleep. The air was oppressive. His shirt, +wet in places, and stiff with dust in other places, oppressed him more +than usual; so he rose and removed it, getting a clean one out of a +drawer. This was an unusual thing for him, for he usually slept in the +same shirt which he wore in his day's work; but it was Saturday night, +and he felt justified in the extravagance. + +In the meanwhile poor Lucretia was brooding over her life in a most +dangerous fashion. All she had done and suffered for Simeon Burns came +back to her till she wondered how she had endured it all. All day long +in the midst of the glorious summer landscape she brooded. + +"I hate him," she thought, with a fierce blazing up through the murk of +her musing. "I hate t' live. But they ain't no hope. I'm tied down. I +can't leave the children, and I ain't got no money. I couldn't make a +living out in the world. I ain't never seen anything an' don't know +anything." + +She was too simple and too unknowing to speculate on the loss of her +beauty, which would have brought her competency once--if sold in the +right market. As she lay in her little attic bed, she was still sullenly +thinking, wearily thinking of her life. She thought of a poor old horse +which Sim had bought once, years before, and put to the plough when it +was too old and weak to work. She could see her again as in a vision, +that poor old mare, with sad head drooping, toiling, toiling, till at +last she could no longer move, and lying down under the harness in the +furrow, groaned under the whip--and died. + +Then she wondered if her own numbness and despair meant death, and she +held her breath to think harder upon it. She concluded at last, grimly, +that she didn't care--only for the children. + +The air was frightfully close in the little attic, and she heard the low +mutter of the rising storm in the west. She forgot her troubles a +little, listening to the far-off gigantic footsteps of the tempest. + +_Boom, boom, boom_, it broke nearer and nearer, as if a vast cordon of +cannon was being drawn around the horizon. Yet she was conscious only of +pleasure. She had no fear. At last came the sweep of cool, fragrant +storm-wind, a short and sudden dash of rain, and then, in the cool, +sweet hush which followed, the worn and weary woman fell into a deep +sleep. + + + + +III. + + +When she woke the younger children were playing about on the floor in +their night-clothes, and little Pet was sitting in a square of sunshine, +intent on one of his shoes. He was too young to know how poor and +squalid his surroundings were--the patch of sunshine flung on the floor +glorified it all. He--little animal--was happy. + +The poor of the Western prairies lie almost as unhealthily close +together as do the poor of the city tenements. In the small hut of the +peasant there is as little chance to escape close and tainting contact +as in the coops and dens of the North End of proud Boston. In the midst +of oceans of land, floods of sunshine and gulfs of verdure, the farmer +lives in two or three small rooms. Poverty's eternal cordon is ever +round the poor. + +"Ma, why didn't you sleep with Pap last night?" asked Bob, the +seven-year-old, when he saw she was awake at last. She flushed a dull +red. + +"You hush, will yeh? Because--I--it was too warm--and there was a storm +comin'. You never mind askin' such questions. Is he gone out?" + +"Yup. I heerd him callin' the pigs. It's Sunday, ain't it, ma?" + +The fact seemed to startle her. + +"Why, yes, so it is! Wal! Now, Sadie, you jump up an' dress quick 's +y'can, an' Bob an' Sile, you run down an' bring s'm' water," she +commanded, in nervous haste, beginning to dress. In the middle of the +room there was scarce space to stand beneath the rafters. + +When Sim came in for his breakfast he found it on the table, but his +wife was absent. + +"Where's y'r ma?" he asked, with a little less of the growl in his +voice. + +"She's upstairs with Pet." + +The man ate his breakfast in dead silence, till at last Bob ventured to +say: + +"What makes ma ac' so?" + +"Shut up!" was the brutal reply. The children began to take sides with +the mother--all but the oldest girl, who was ten years old. To her the +father turned now for certain things to be done, treating her in his +rough fashion as a housekeeper, and the girl felt flattered and docile +accordingly. + +They wore pitiably clad; like many farm-children, indeed, they could +hardly be said to be clad at all. Sadie had on but two garments, a sort +of undershirt of cotton and a faded calico dress, out of which her bare, +yellow little legs protruded, lamentably dirty and covered with +scratches. + +The boys also had two garments, a hickory shirt and a pair of pants like +their father's, made out of brown-denims by the mother's never-resting +hands--hands that in sleep still sewed, and skimmed, and baked, and +churned. The boys had gone to bed without washing their feet, which now +looked like toads, calloused, brown, and chapped. + +Part of this the mother saw with her dull eyes as she came down, after +seeing the departure of Sim up the road with the cows. It was a +beautiful Sunday morning, and the woman might have sung like a bird if +men had been as kind to her as Nature. But she looked dully out upon the +seas of ripe grasses, tangled and flashing with dew, out of which the +bobolinks and larks sprang. The glorious winds brought her no melody, no +perfume, no respite from toil and care. + +She thought of the children she saw in the town,--children of the +merchant and banker, clean as little dolls, the boys in knickerbocker +suits, the girls in dainty white dresses,--and a vengeful bitterness +sprang up in her heart. She soon put the dishes away, but felt too tired +and listless to do more. + +"Taw-bay-wies! Pet want ta-aw-bay-wies!" cried the little one, tugging +at her dress. + +Listlessly, mechanically she took him in her arms, and went out into the +garden, which was fragrant and sweet with dew and sun. After picking +some berries for him, she sat down on the grass under the row of +cottonwoods, and sank into a kind of lethargy. A kingbird chattered and +shrieked overhead, the grasshoppers buzzed in the grasses, strange +insects with ventriloquistic voices sang all about her--she could not +tell where. + +"Ma, can't I put on my clean dress?" insisted Sadie. + +"I don't care," said the brooding woman, darkly. "Leave me alone." + +Oh, if she could only lie here forever, escaping all pain and weariness! +The wind sang in her ears; the great clouds, beautiful as heavenly +ships, floated far above in the vast, dazzling deeps of blue sky; the +birds rustled and chirped around her; leaping insects buzzed and +clattered in the grass and in the vines and bushes. The goodness and +glory of God was in the very air, the bitterness and oppression of man +in every line of her face. + +But her quiet was broken by Sadie, who came leaping like a fawn down +through the grass. + +"O ma, Aunt Maria and Uncle William are coming. They've jest turned in." + +"I don't care if they be!" she answered in the same dully-irritated way. +"What're they comin' here to-day for, I wan' to know." She stayed there +immovably, till Mrs. Councill came down to see her, piloted by two or +three of the children. Mrs. Councill, a jolly, large-framed woman, +smiled brightly, and greeted her in a loud, jovial voice. She made the +mistake of taking the whole matter lightly; her tone amounted to +ridicule. + +"Sim says you've been having a tantrum, Creeshy. Don't know what for, he +says." + +"He don't," said the wife, with a sullen flash in her eyes." _He_ don't +know why! Well, then, you just tell him what I say. I've lived in hell +long enough. I'm done. I've slaved here day in and day out f'r twelve +years without pay--not even a decent word. I've worked like no nigger +ever worked 'r could work and live. I've given him all I had, 'r ever +expect to have. I'm wore out. My strength is gone, my patience is gone. +I'm done with it--that's a _part_ of what's the matter." + +"My sakes, Lucreeshy! You mustn't talk that way." + +"But I _will_," said the woman, as she supported herself on one palm and +raised the other. "I've _got_ to talk that way." She was ripe for an +explosion like this. She seized upon it with eagerness. "They ain't no +use o' livin' this way, anyway. I'd take poison if it wa'n't f'r the +young ones." + +"Lucreeshy Burns!" + +"Oh, I mean it." + +"Land sakes alive, I b'lieve you're goin' crazy!" + +"I shouldn't wonder if I was. I've had enough t' drive an Indian crazy. +Now you jest go off an' leave me 'lone. I ain't no mind to visit--they +ain't no way out of it, an' I'm tired o' tryin' to _find_ a way. Go off +an' let me be." + +Her tone was so bitterly hopeless that the great, jolly face of Mrs. +Councill stiffened into a look of horror such as she had not known for +years. The children, in two separate groups, could be heard rioting. +Bees were humming around the clover in the grass, and the kingbird +chattered ceaselessly from the Lombardy poplar tip. Both women felt all +this peace and beauty of the morning dimly, and it disturbed Mrs. +Councill because the other was so impassive under it all. At last, after +a long and thoughtful pause, Mrs. Councill asked a question whose answer +she knew would decide it all--asked it very kindly and softly: + +"Creeshy, are you comin' in?" + +"No," was the short and sullenly decisive answer. Mrs. Councill knew +that was the end, and so rose, with a sigh, and went away. + +"Wal, good-by," she said, simply. + +Looking back, she saw Lucretia lying at length, with closed eyes and +hollow cheeks. She seemed to be sleeping, half-buried in the grass. She +did not look up nor reply to her sister-in-law, whose life was one of +toil and trouble, also, but not so hard and helpless as Lucretia's. By +contrast with most of her neighbors, she seemed comfortable. + +"Sim Burns, what you ben doin' to that woman?" she burst out, as she +waddled up to where the two men were sitting under a cottonwood tree, +talking and whittling after the manner of farmers. + +"Nawthin' 's fur 's I know," answered Burns, not quite honestly, and +looking uneasy. + +"You needn't try t' git out of it like that, Sim Burns," replied his +sister. "That woman never got into that fit f'r _nawthin_'." + +"Wall, if you know more about it than I do, whadgy ask _me_ fur?" he +replied, angrily. + +"Tut, tut!" put in Councill, "hold y'r horses! Don't git on y'r ear, +children! Keep cool, and don't spile y'r shirts. Most likely you're all +t' blame. Keep cool an' swear less." + +"Wai, I'll bet Sim's more to blame than she is. Why, they ain't a +harder-workin' woman in the hull State of Ioway than she is"---- + +"Except Marm Councill." + +"Except nobody. Look at her, jest skin and bones." + +Councill chuckled in his vast way. "That's so, mother; measured in that +way, she leads over you. You git fat on it." + +She smiled a little, her indignation oozing away. She never "_could_ +stay mad," her children were accustomed to tell her. Burns refused to +talk any more about the matter, and the visitors gave it up, and got out +their team and started for home, Mrs. Councill firing this parting +shot: + +"The best thing you can do to-day is t' let her alone. Mebbe the +children 'll bring her round ag'in. If she does come round, you see 't +you treat her a little more 's y' did when you was a-courtin' her." + +"This way," roared Councill, putting his arm around his wife's waist. +She boxed his ears, while he guffawed and clucked at his team. + +Burns took a measure of salt and went out into the pasture to salt the +cows. On the sunlit slope of the field, where the cattle came running +and bawling to meet him, he threw down the salt in handfuls, and then +lay down to watch them as they eagerly licked it up, even gnawing a bare +spot in the sod in their eagerness to get it all. + +Burns was not a drinking man; he was hard-working, frugal; in fact, he +had no extravagances except his tobacco. His clothes he wore until they +all but dropped from him; and he worked in rain and mud, as well as dust +and sun. It was this suffering and toiling all to no purpose that made +him sour and irritable. He didn't see why he should have so little after +so much hard work. + +He was puzzled to account for it all. His mind--the average mind--was +weary with trying to solve an insoluble problem. His neighbors, who had +got along a little better than himself, were free with advice and +suggestion as to the cause of his persistent poverty. + +Old man Bacon, the hardest-working man in the county, laid it to Burns's +lack of management. Jim Butler, who owned a dozen farms (which he had +taken on mortgages), and who had got rich by buying land at government +price and holding for a rise, laid all such cases as Burns's to "lack of +enterprise, foresight." + +But the larger number, feeling themselves in the same boat with Burns, +said: + +"I d' know. Seems as if things get worse an' worse. Corn an' wheat +gittin' cheaper 'n' cheaper. Machinery eatin' up profits--got to _have_ +machinery to harvest the cheap grain, an' then the machinery eats up +profits. Taxes goin' up. Devil to pay all round; I d' know what in +thunder _is_ the matter." + +The Democrats said protection was killing the farmers; the Republicans +said no. The Grangers growled about the middlemen; the Greenbackers +said there wasn't circulating medium enough, and, in the midst of it +all, hard-working, discouraged farmers, like Simeon Burns, worked on, +unable to find out what really was the matter. + +And there, on this beautiful Sabbath morning, Sim sat and thought and +thought, till he rose with an oath and gave it up. + + + + +IV. + + +It was hot and brilliant again the next morning as Douglass Radbourn +drove up the road with Lily Graham, the teacher of the school in the +little white school-house. It was blazing hot, even though not yet nine +o'clock, and the young farmers plowing beside the fence looked longingly +and somewhat bitterly at Radbourn seated in a fine top-buggy beside a +beautiful creature in lace and cambric. + +Very beautiful the town-bred "school-ma'am" looked to those grimy, +sweaty fellows, superb fellows, too, physically, with bare red arms and +leather-colored faces. She was as if builded of the pink and white +clouds soaring far up there in the morning sky. So cool, and sweet, and +dainty. + +As she came in sight, their dusty and sweaty shirts grew biting as the +poisoned shirt of the Norse myth, their bare feet in the brown dirt grew +distressingly flat and hoof-like, and their huge, dirty, brown, chapped +and swollen hands grew so repulsive that the mere remote possibility of +some time in the far future standing a chance of having an introduction +to her caused them to wipe their palms on their trousers' legs +stealthily. + +Lycurgus Banks swore when he saw Radbourn. "That cuss thinks he's ol' +hell this morning. He don't earn his living. But he's just the kind of +cuss to get holt of all the purty girls." + +Others gazed with simple, sad wistfulness upon the slender figure, pale, +sweet face, and dark eyes of the young girl, feeling that to have talk +with such a fairy-like creature was a happiness too great to ever be +their lot. And when she had passed they went back to work with a sigh +and feeling of loss. + +As for Lily, she felt a pang of pity for these people. She looked at +this peculiar form of poverty and hardship much as the fragile, tender +girl of the city looks upon the men laying a gas-main in the streets. +She felt, sympathetically, the heat and grime, and, though but the +faintest idea of what it meant to wear such clothing came to her, she +shuddered. Her eyes had been opened to these things by Radbourn, a +class-mate at the Seminary. + +The young fellow knew that Lily was in love with him, and he made +distinct effort to keep the talk upon impersonal subjects. He liked her +very much, probably because she listened so well. + +"Poor fellows," sighed Lily, almost unconsciously. "I hate to see them +working there in the dirt and hot sun. It seems a hopeless sort of life, +doesn't it?" + +"Oh, but this is the most beautiful part of the year," said Radbourn. +"Think of them in the mud, in the sleet; think of them husking corn in +the snow, a bitter wind blowing; think of them a month later in the +harvest; think of them imprisoned here in winter!" + +"Yes, it's dreadful! But I never felt it so keenly before. You have +opened my eyes to it. Of course, I've been on a farm, but not to live +there." + +"Writers and orators have lied so long about 'the idyllic' in farm life, +and said so much about the 'independent American farmer,' that he +himself has remained blind to the fact that he's one of the +hardest-working and poorest-paid men in America. See the houses they +live in--hovels." + +"Yes, yes, I know," said Lily; a look of deeper pain swept over her +face. "And the fate of the poor women; oh, the fate of the women!" + +"Yes, it's a matter of statistics," went on Radbourn, pitilessly, "that +the wives of the American farmers fill our insane asylums. See what a +life they lead, most of them; no music, no books. Seventeen hours a day +in a couple of small rooms--dens. Now, there is Sim Burns! What a +travesty of a home! Yet there are a dozen just as bad in sight. He works +like a fiend--so does his wife--and what is their reward? Simply a hole +to hibernate in and to sleep and eat in in summer. A dreary present and +a well-nigh hopeless future. No, they have a future, if they knew it, +and we must tell them." + +"I know Mrs. Burns," Lily said, after a pause; "she sends several +children to my school. Poor, pathetic little things, half-clad and +wistful-eyed. They make my heart ache; they are so hungry for love, and +so quick to learn." + +As they passed the Burns farm, they looked for the wife, but she was not +to be seen. The children had evidently gone up to the little white +school-house at the head of the lane. Radbourn let the reins fall slack +as he talked on. He did not look at the girl; his eyebrows were drawn +into a look of gloomy pain. + +"It ain't so much the grime that I abhor, nor the labor that crooks +their backs and makes their hands bludgeons. It's the horrible waste of +life involved in it all. I don't believe God intended a man to be bent +to plow-handles like that, but that ain't the worst of it. The worst of +it is, these people live lives approaching automata. They become +machines to serve others more lucky or more unscrupulous than +themselves. What is the world of art, of music, of literature, to these +poor devils--to Sim Burns and his wife there, for example? Or even to +the best of these farmers?" + +The girl looked away over the shimmering lake of yellow-green corn. A +choking came into her throat. Her gloved hand trembled. + +"What is such a life worth? It's all very comfortable for us to say, +'They don't feel it.' How do we know what they feel? What do we know of +their capacity for enjoyment of art and music? They never have leisure +or opportunity. The master is very glad to be taught by preacher, and +lawyer, and novelist, that his slaves are contented and never feel any +longings for a higher life. These people live lives but little higher +than their cattle--are _forced_ to live so. Their hopes and aspirations +are crushed out, their souls are twisted and deformed just as toil +twists and deforms their bodies. They are on the same level as the city +laborer. The very religion they hear is a soporific. They are taught to +be content here that they may be happy hereafter. Suppose there isn't +any hereafter?" + +"Oh, don't say that, please!" Lily cried. + +"But I don't _know_ that there is," he went on remorselessly, "and I do +know that these people are being robbed of something more than money, of +all that makes life worth living. The promise of milk and honey in +Canaan is all very well, but I prefer to have mine here; then I'm sure +of it." + +"What can we do?" murmured the girl. + +"Do? Rouse these people for one thing; preach _discontent_, a noble +discontent." + +"It will only make them unhappy." + +"No, it won't; not if you show them the way out. If it does, it's better +to be unhappy striving for higher things, like a man, than to be content +in a wallow like swine." + +"But what _is_ the way out?" + +This was sufficient to set Radbourn upon his hobby-horse. He outlined +his plan of action--the abolition of all indirect taxes; the State +control of all privileges the private ownership of which interfered with +the equal rights of all. He would utterly destroy speculative holdings +of the earth. He would have land everywhere brought to its best use, by +appropriating all ground rents to the use of the State, etc., etc., to +which the girl listened with eager interest, but with only partial +comprehension. + +As they neared the little school-house, a swarm of midgets in pink +dresses, pink sun-bonnets, and brown legs, came rushing to meet their +teacher, with that peculiar devotion the children in the country develop +for a refined teacher. + +Radbourn helped Lily out into the midst of the eager little scholars, +who swarmed upon her like bees on a lump of sugar, till even Radbourn's +gravity gave way, and he smiled into her lifted eyes--an unusual smile, +that strangely enough stopped the smile on her own lips, filling her +face with a wistful shadow, and her breath came hard for a moment, and +she trembled. + +She loved that cold, stern face, oh, so much! and to have him smile was +a pleasure that made her heart leap till she suffered a smothering pain. +She turned to him to say: + +"I am very thankful, Mr. Radbourn, for another pleasant ride," adding in +a lower tone: "It was a very great pleasure; you always give me so much. +I feel stronger and more hopeful." + +"I'm glad you feel so. I was afraid I was prosy with my land-doctrine." + +"Oh, no! Indeed no! You have given me a new hope; I am exalted with the +thought; I shall try to think it all out and apply it." + +And so they parted, the children looking on and slyly whispering among +themselves. Radbourn looked back after awhile, but the bare little hive +had absorbed its little group, and was standing bleak as a tombstone and +hot as a furnace on the naked plain in the blazing sun. + +"America's pitiful boast!" said the young radical, looking back at it. +"Only a miserable hint of what it might be." + +All that forenoon, as Lily faced her little group of barefooted +children, she was thinking of Radbourn, of his almost fierce sympathy +for these poor, supine farmers, hopeless and in some cases content in +their narrow lives. The children almost worshiped the beautiful girl +who came to them as a revelation of exquisite neatness and taste,--whose +very voice and intonation awed them. + +They noted, unconsciously, of course, every detail. Snowy linen, touches +of soft color, graceful lines of bust and side--the slender fingers that +could almost speak, so beautifully flexile were they. Lily herself +sometimes, when she shook the calloused, knotted, stiffened hands of the +women, shuddered with sympathetic pain, to think that the crowning +wonder and beauty of God's world should be so maimed and distorted from +its true purpose. + +Even in the children before her she could see the inherited results of +fruitless labor--and, more pitiful yet, in the bent shoulders of the +older ones she could see the beginnings of deformity that would soon be +permanent. And as these things came to her, she clasped the poor +wondering things to her side with a convulsive wish to make life a +little brighter for them. + +"How is your mother to-day?" she asked of Sadie Burns, as she was eating +her luncheon on the drab-colored table near the open window. + +"Purty well," said Sadie, in a hesitating way. + +Lily was looking out, and listening to the gophers whistling as they +raced to and fro. She could see Bob Burns lying at length on the grass +in the pasture over the fence, his heels waving in the air, his hands +holding a string which formed a snare. It was like fishing to young +Izaak Walton. + +It was very still and hot, and the cheep and trill of the gophers and +the chatter of the kingbirds alone broke the silence. A cloud of +butterflies were fluttering about a pool near; a couple of big flies +buzzed and mumbled on the pane. + +"What ails your mother?" Lily asked, recovering herself and looking at +Sadie, who was distinctly ill at ease. + +"Oh, I dunno," Sadie replied, putting one bare foot across the other. + +Lily insisted. "She 'n' pa's had an awful row"---- + +"Sadie!" said the teacher warningly, "what language!" + +"I mean they quarreled, an' she don't speak to him any more." + +"Why, how dreadful!" + +"An' pa he's awful cross; and she won't eat when he does, an' I haf to +wait on table." + +"I believe I'll go down and see her this noon," said Lily to herself, as +she divined a little of the state of affairs in the Burns family. + + + + +V. + + +Sim was mending the pasture fence as Lily came down the road toward him. +He had delayed going to dinner to finish his task and was just about +ready to go when Lily spoke to him. + +"Good morning, Mr. Burns. I am just going down to see Mrs. Burns. It +must be time to go to dinner--aren't you ready to go? I want to talk +with you." + +Ordinarily he would have been delighted with the idea of walking down +the road with the school-ma'am, but there was something in her look +which seemed to tell him that she knew all about his trouble, and, +besides, he was not in good humor. + +"Yes, in a minnit--soon's I fix up this hole. Them shoats, I b'lieve, +would go through a key-hole, if they could once get their snoots in." + +He expanded on this idea as he nailed away, anxious to gain time. He +foresaw trouble for himself. He couldn't be rude to this sweet and +fragile girl. If a _man_ had dared to attack him on his domestic +shortcomings, he could have fought. The girl stood waiting for him, her +large, steady eyes full of thought, gazing down at him from the shadow +of her broad-brimmed hat. + +"The world is so full of misery anyway, that we ought to do the best we +can to make it less," she said at last, in a musing tone, as if her +thoughts had unconsciously taken on speech. She had always appealed to +him strongly, and never more so than in this softly-uttered +abstraction--that it was an abstraction added to its power with him. + +He could find no words for reply, but picked up his hammer and nail-box, +and slouched along the road by her side, listening without a word to her +talk. + +"Christ was patient, and bore with his enemies. Surely we ought to bear +with our--friends," she went on, adapting her steps to his. He took off +his torn straw hat and wiped his face on his sleeve, being much +embarrassed and ashamed. Not knowing how to meet such argument, he kept +silent. + +"How _is_ Mrs. Burns?" said Lily at length, determined to make him +speak. The delicate meaning in the emphasis laid on _is_ did not escape +him. + +"Oh, she's all right--I mean she's done her work jest the same as ever. +I don't see her much"---- + +"I didn't know--I was afraid she was sick. Sadie said she was acting +strangely." + +"No, she's well enough--but"---- + +"But what is the trouble? Won't you let me help you, _won't_ you?" she +pleaded. + +"Can't anybody help us. We've got 'o fight it out, I s'pose," he +replied, a gloomy note of resentment creeping into his voice. "She's +ben in a devil of a temper f'r a week." + +"Haven't you been in the same kind of a temper too?" demanded Lily, +firmly, but kindly. "I think most troubles of this kind come from bad +temper on both sides. Don't you? Have you done your share at being kind +and patient?" + +They had reached the gate now, and she laid her hand on his arm to stop +him. He looked down at the slender gloved hand on his arm, feeling as if +a giant had grasped him; then he raised his eyes to her face, flushing a +purplish red as he remembered his grossness. It seemed monstrous in the +presence of this girl-advocate. Her face was like silver; her eyes +seemed pools of tears. + +"I don't s'pose I have," he said at last, pushing by her. He could not +have faced her glance another moment. His whole air conveyed the +impression of destructive admission. Lily did not comprehend the extent +of her advantage or she would have pursued it further. As it was she +felt a little hurt as she entered the house. The table was set, but Mrs. +Burns was nowhere to be seen. Calling her softly, the young girl passed +through the shabby little living-room to the oven-like bedroom which +opened off it, but no one was about. She stood for a moment shuddering +at the wretchedness of the room. + +Going back to the kitchen, she found Sim about beginning on his dinner. +Little Pet was with him; the rest of the children were at the +school-house. + +"Where is she?" + +"I d' know. Out in the garden, I expect. She don't eat with me now. I +never see her. She don't come near _me_. I ain't seen her since +Saturday." + +Lily was shocked inexpressibly and began to see more clearly the +magnitude of the task she had set herself to do. But it must be done; +she felt that a tragedy was not far off. It must be averted. + +"Mr. Burns, what have you done? What _have_ you done?" she asked in +terror and horror. + +"Don't lay it all to _me_! She hain't done nawthin' but complain f'r ten +years. I couldn't do nothin' to suit her. She was always naggin' me." + +"I don't think Lucretia Burns would nag anybody. I don't say you're +_all_ to blame, but I'm afraid you haven't acknowledged you were _any_ +to blame. I'm afraid you've not been patient with her. I'm going out to +bring her in. If she comes, will you _say_ you were _part_ to blame? You +needn't beg her pardon--just say you'll try to be better. Will you do +it? Think how much she has done for you! Will you?" + +He remained silent, and looked discouragingly rude. His sweaty, dirty +shirt was open at the neck, his arms were bare, his scraggly teeth were +yellow with tobacco, and his uncombed hair lay tumbled about on his +high, narrow head. His clumsy, unsteady hands played with the dishes on +the table. His pride was struggling with his sense of justice; he knew +he ought to consent, and yet it was so hard to acknowledge himself to +blame. The girl went on in a voice piercingly sweet, trembling with pity +and pleading. + +"What word can I carry to her from you? I'm going to go and see her. If +I could take a word from _you_, I know she would come back to the table. +Shall I tell her you feel to blame?" + +The answer was a long time coming; at last the man nodded an assent, the +sweat pouring from his purple face. She had set him thinking; her +victory was sure. + +Lily almost ran out into the garden and to the strawberry patch, where +she found Lucretia in her familiar, colorless, shapeless dress, picking +berries in the hot sun, the mosquitoes biting her neck and hands. + +"Poor, pathetic, dumb sufferer!" the girl thought as she ran up to her. + +She dropped her dish as she heard Lily coming, and gazed up into the +tender, pitying face. Not a word was spoken, but something she saw there +made her eyes fill with tears, and her throat swell. It was pure +sympathy. She put her arms around the girl's neck and sobbed for the +first time since Friday night. Then they sat down on the grass under +the hedge, and she told her story, interspersed with Lily's horrified +comments. + +When it was all told, the girl still sat listening. She heard Radbourn's +calm, slow voice again. It helped her not to hate Burns; it helped her +to pity and understand him: + +"You must remember that such toil brutalizes a man; it makes him +callous, selfish, unfeeling, necessarily. A fine nature must either +adapt itself to its hard surroundings or die. Men who toil terribly in +filthy garments day after day and year after year cannot easily keep +gentle; the frost and grime, the heat and cold will soon or late enter +into their souls. The case is not all in favor of the suffering wives, +and against the brutal husbands. If the farmer's wife is dulled and +crazed by her routine, the farmer himself is degraded and brutalized." + +As well as she could Lily explained all this to the woman, who lay with +her face buried in the girl's lap. Lily's arms were about her thin +shoulders in an agony of pity. + +"It's hard, Lucretia, I know--more than you can bear--but you mustn't +forget what Sim endures too. He goes out in the storms and in the heat +and dust. His boots are hard, and see how his hands are all bruised and +broken by his work! He was tired and hungry when he said that--he didn't +really mean it." + +The wife remained silent. + +"Mr. Radbourn says work, as things go now, _does_ degrade a man in spite +of himself. He says men get coarse and violent in spite of themselves, +just as women do when everything goes wrong in the house--when the flies +are thick, and the fire won't burn, and the irons stick to the clothes. +You see, you both suffer. Don't lay up this fit of temper against +Sim--will you?" + +The wife lifted her head and looked away. Her face was full of hopeless +weariness. + +"It ain't this once. It ain't that 't all. It's having no let-up. Just +doin' the same thing right over 'n' over--no hope of anything better." + +"If you had a hope of another world"---- + +"Don't talk that. I don't want that kind o' comfert. I want a decent +chance here. I want 'o rest an' be happy _now_." Lily's big eyes were +streaming with tears. What should she say to the desperate woman? +"What's the use? We might jest as well die--all of us." + +The woman's livid face appalled the girl. She was gaunt, heavy-eyed, +nerveless. Her faded dress settled down over her limbs, showing the +swollen knees and thin calves; her hands, with distorted joints, +protruded painfully from her sleeves. And all about was the +ever-recurring wealth and cheer of nature that knows no fear or +favor--the bees and flies buzzing in the sun, the jay and kingbird in +the poplars, the smell of strawberries, the motion of lush grass, the +shimmer of corn-blades tossed gayly as banners in a conquering army. + +Like a flash of keener light, a sentence shot across the girl's mind: +"Nature knows no title-deed. The bounty of her mighty hands falls as the +sunlight falls, copious, impartial; her seas carry all ships; her air is +for all lips, her lands for all feet." + +"Poverty and suffering such as yours will not last." There was something +in the girl's voice that roused the woman. She turned her dull eyes upon +the youthful face. + +Lily took her hand in both hers as if by a caress she could impart her +own faith. + +"Look up, dear. When nature is so good and generous, man must come to be +better, surely. Come, go in the house again. Sim is there; he expects +you; he told me to tell you he was sorry." Lucretia's face twitched a +little at that, but her head was bent. "Come; you can't live this way. +There isn't any other place to go to." + +No; that was the bitterest truth. Where on this wide earth, with its +forth-shooting fruits and grains, its fragrant lands and shining seas, +could this dwarfed, bent, broken, middle-aged woman go? Nobody wanted +her, nobody cared for her. But the wind kissed her drawn lips as readily +as those of the girl, and the blooms of clover nodded to her as if to a +queen. + +Lily had said all she could. Her heart ached with unspeakable pity and a +sort of terror. + +"Don't give up, Lucretia. This may be the worst hour of your life. Live +and bear with it all for Christ's sake--for your children's sake. Sim +told me to tell you he was to blame. If you will only see that you are +both to blame and yet neither to blame, then you can rise above it. Try, +dear!" + +Something that was in the girl imparted itself to the wife, +electrically. She pulled herself together, rose silently, and started +toward the house. Her face was rigid, but no longer sullen. Lily +followed her slowly, wonderingly. + +As she neared the kitchen door, she saw Sim still sitting at the table; +his face was unusually grave and soft. She saw him start and shove back +his chair--saw Lucretia go to the stove and lift the tea-pot, and heard +her say, as she took her seat beside the baby: + +"Want some more tea?" + +She had become a wife and mother again, but in what spirit the puzzled +girl could not say. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART V. + +SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE FARM: BOYS AND HARVEST HANDS + + In mystery of town and play + The splendid lady lives alway, + Inwrought with starlight, winds and streams. + + +SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE FARM. + + +A group of men were gathered in Farmer Graham's barn one rainy day in +September; the rain had stopped the stacking, and the men were amusing +themselves with feats of skill and strength. Steve Nagle was the +champion, no matter what came up; whether shouldering a sack of wheat, +or raising weights or suspending himself with one hand, he left the +others out of the race. + +"Aw! it's no good foolun' with such puny little men as you," he +swaggered at last, throwing himself down upon a pile of sacks. + +"If our hired man was here I bet he'd beat you all holler," piped a +boy's voice from the doorway. + +Steve raised himself up and glared. + +"What's that thing talkun'?" + +The boy held his ground. "You can brag when he ain't around, but I bet +he can lick you with one hand tied behind him; don't you, Frank?" + +Frank was doubtful, and kept a little out of sight. He was afraid of +Steve, as were, indeed, all the other men, for he had terrorized the +saloons of the county for years. Johnny went on about his hero: + +"Why, he can take a sack of wheat by the corners and snap every kernel +of it clean out; he can lift a separator just as easy! You'd better brag +when he's around." + +Steve's anger rose, for he saw the rest laughing; he glared around at +them all like a hyena. "Bring on this whelp, let's see how he looks. I +ain't seen him yit." + +"Pa says if Lime went to a saloon where you'd meet him once, you +wouldn't clean out that saloon," Johnny went on in a calm voice, with a +sort of undercurrent of glee in it. He saw Steve's anger, and was +delighted. + +"Bring on this feller; I'll knock the everlasting spots offen 'im f'r +two cents." + +"I'll tell 'im that." + +"Tell him and be damned," roared Steve, with a wolfish gleam in his eyes +that drove the boys away whooping with mingled terror and delight. + +Steve saw that the men about him held Johnny's opinion of Lime, and it +made him furious. For several years he had held undisputed sovereignty +over the saloons of Rock County, and when, with both sleeves rolled up +and eyes flaming with madness, he had leaped into the center of a +bar-room floor with a wild shout, everybody got out, by doors, windows +or any other way, sometimes taking sash and all, and left him roaring +with maniacal delight. + +No one used a revolver in those days. Shooting was almost unknown. +Fights were tests of physical strength and savagery. + +Harvest brought into Iowa at that time a flood of rough and hardy men +who drifted north with the moving line of ripening wheat, and on +Saturday nights the saloons of the county were filled with them, and +Steve found many chances to show his power. Among these strangers, as +they gathered in some saloon to make a night of it, he loved to burst +with his assertion of individual sovereignty. + + * * * * * + +Lime was out mending fence when Johnny came home to tell him what Steve +had said. Johnny was anxious to see his faith in his hero justified, and +watched Lime carefully as he pounded away without looking up. His dress +always had an easy slouch about his vast limbs, and his pantaloons, +usually of some dark stuff, he wore invariably tucked into his +boot-tops, his vest swinging unbuttoned, his hat carelessly awry. + +Being a quiet, sober man, he had never been in a saloon when Steve +entered to swing his hat to the floor and yell: + +"I'm Jack Robinson, I am! I am the man that bunted the bull off the +bridge! I'm the best man in Northern Iowa!" He had met him, of course, +but Steve kept a check upon himself when sober. + +"He says he can knock the spots off of you," Johnny said, in conclusion, +watching Lime roguishly. + +The giant finished nailing up the fence, and at last said: "Now run +along, sonny, and git the cows." There was a laugh in his voice that +showed his amusement at Johnny's disappointment. "I ain't got any +spots." + +On the following Saturday night, at dusk, as Lime was smoking his pipe +out on the horse-block, with the boys around him, there came a +swiftly-driven wagon down the road, filled with a noisy load of men. +They pulled up at the gate, with a prodigious shouting. + +"Hello, Lime!" + +"Hello, the house!" + +"Hurrah for the show!" + +"It's Al Crandall," cried Johnny, running down to the gate. Lime +followed slowly, and asked: "What's up, boys?" + +"All goin' down to the show; climb in!" + +"All right; wait till I git my coat." + +Lime was working one of Graham's farms on shares in the summer; in the +winter he went to the pinery. + +"Oh, can't we go, Lime?" pleaded the boys. + +"If your dad'll let you; I'll pay for the tickets." + +The boys rushed wildly to the house and as wildly back again, and the +team resumed its swift course, for it was getting late. It was a +beautiful night; the full moon poured down a cataract of silent white +light like spray, and the dew (almost frost) lay on the grass and +reflected the glory of the autumn sky; the air was still and had that +peculiar property, common to the prairie air, of carrying sound to a +great distance. + +The road was hard and smooth, and the spirited little team bowled the +heavy wagon along at a swift pace. "We're late," Crandall said, as he +snapped his long whip over the heads of his horses, "and we've got to +make it in twenty-five minutes or miss part of the show." This caused +Johnny great anxiety. He had never seen a play and wanted to see it all. +He looked at the flying legs of the horses and pushed on the dashboard, +chirping at them slyly. + +Rock Falls was the county town and the only town where plays could be +produced. It was a place of about 3,000 inhabitants at that time, and to +Johnny's childish eyes it was a very great place indeed. To go to town +was an event, but to go with the men at night, and to a show, was +something to remember a lifetime. + +There was little talk as they rushed along, only some singing of a +dubious sort by Bill Young, on the back seat. At intervals Bill stopped +singing and leaned over to say, in exactly the same tone of voice each +time: "Al, I hope t' God we won't be late." Then he resumed his +monotonous singing, or said something coarse to Rice, who laughed +immoderately. + +The play had begun when they climbed the narrow, precarious stairway +which led to the door of the hall. Every seat of the room was filled, +but as for the boys, after getting their eyes upon the players, they did +not think of sitting, or of moving, for that matter; they were literally +all eyes and ears. + +The hall seated about 400 persons, and the stage was a contrivance +striking as to coloring as well as variety of pieces. It added no little +to the sport of the evening by the squeaks it gave out as the heavy man +walked across, and by the falling down of the calico wings and by the +persistent refusal of the curtain to go down at the proper moment on the +tableau. At the back of the room the benches rose one above the other +until the one at the rear was near the grimy ceiling. These benches were +occupied by the toughs of the town, who treated each other to peanuts +and slapped one another over the head with their soft, shapeless hats, +and laughed inordinately when some fellow's hat was thrown out of his +reach into the crowd. + +The play was Wilkie Collins' "New Magdalen," and the part of Mercy was +taken by a large and magnificently proportioned woman, a blonde, and in +Johnny's eyes she seemed something divine, with her grace and majesty of +motion. He took a personal pride in her at once and wanted her to come +out triumphant in the end, regardless of any conventional morality. + +True, his admiration for the dark little woman's tragic utterance at +times drew him away from his breathless study of the queenly Mercy, but +such moments were few. Within a half hour he was deeply in love with the +heroine and wondered how she could possibly endure the fat man who +played the part of Horace, and who pitched into the practicable supper +of cold ham, biscuit and currant wine with a gusto that suggested +gluttony as the reason for his growing burden of flesh. + +And so the play went on. The wonderful old lady in the cap and +spectacles, the mysterious dark little woman who popped in at short +intervals to say "Beware!" in a very deep contralto voice, the tender +and repentant Mercy, all were new and wonderful, beautiful things to the +boys, and though they stood up the whole evening through, it passed so +swiftly that the curtain's fall drew from them long sighs of regret. +From that time on they were to dream of that wonderful play and that +beautiful, repentant woman. So securely was she enthroned in their +regard that no rude and senseless jest could ever unseat her. Of +course, the men, as they went out, laughed and joked in the manner of +such men, and swore in their disappointment because it was a serious +drama in place of the comedy and the farce which they had expected. + +"It's a regular sell," Bill said. "I wanted to hear old Plunket stid of +all that stuff about nothin'. That was a lunkin' good-lookin' woman +though," he added, with a coarse suggestion in his voice, which +exasperated Johnny to the pitch of giving him a kick on the heel as he +walked in front. "Hyare, young feller, look where you're puttin' your +hoofs!" Bill growled, looking about. + +John was comforted by seeing in the face of his brother the same rapt +expression which he felt was on his own. He walked along almost +mechanically, scarcely feeling the sidewalk, his thoughts still dwelling +on the lady and the play. It was after ten o'clock, and the stores were +all shut, the frost lay thick and white on the plank walk, and the moon +was shining as only a moon can shine through the rarefied air on the +Western prairies, and overhead the stars in innumerable hosts swam in +the absolutely cloudless sky. + +John stumbled along, keeping hold of Lime's hand till they reached the +team standing at the sidewalk, shivering with cold. The impatient horses +stretched their stiffened limbs with pleasure and made off with a +rearing plunge. The men were noisy. Bill sang another song at the top +of his voice as they rattled by the sleeping houses, but as he came to +an objectionable part of the song Lime turned suddenly and said: "Shut +up on that, will you?" and he became silent. + +Rock Falls, after the most extraordinary agitation, had just prohibited +the sale of liquor at any point within two miles of the school-house in +the town. This, after strenuous opposition, was enforced; the immediate +effect of the law was to establish saloons at the limit of the two miles +and to throw a large increase of business into the hands of Hank Swartz +in the retail part of his brewery, which was situated about two miles +from the town, on the bank of the river. He had immediately built a +bar-room and made himself ready for the increase of his trade, which had +previously been confined to supplying picnic parties with half-kegs of +beer or an occasional glass to teamsters passing by. Hank had an eye to +the main chance and boasted: "If the public gits ahead of me it's got to +be up and a-comin'." + +The road along which Crandall was driving did not lead to Hank's place, +but the river road, which branched off a little farther on, went by the +brewery, though it was a longer way around. The men grew silent at last, +and the steady roll and rumble of the wagon over the smooth road was +soothing, and John laid his head in Lime's lap and fell asleep while +looking at the moon and wondering why it always seemed to go just as +fast as the team. + +He was awakened by a series of wild yells, the snapping of whips and the +furious rush of horses. It was another team filled with harvesters +trying to pass, and not succeeding. The fellows in the other wagon +hooted and howled and cracked the whip, but Al's little bays kept them +behind until Lime protested, "Oh, let 'em go, Al," and then with a shout +of glee the team went by and left them in a cloud of dust. + +"Say, boys," said Bill, "that was Pat Sheehan and the Nagle boys. +They've turned off; they're goin' down to Hank's. Let's go too. Come on, +fellers, what d'you say? I'm allfired dry. Ain't you?" + +"I'm willun'," said Frank Rice; "what d'you say, Lime?" John looked up +into Lime's face and said to him, in a low voice, "Let's go home; that +was Steve a-drivin'." Lime nodded and made a sign to John to keep still, +but John saw his head lift. He had heard and recognized Steve's voice. + +"It was Pat Sheehan, sure," repeated Bill, "an' I shouldn't wonder if +the others was the Nagle boys and Eth Cole." + +"Yes, it was Steve," said Al. "I saw his old hat as he went by." + +It was perfectly intelligible to Lime that they were all anxious to +have a meeting between Steve and himself. Johnny saw also that if Lime +refused to go to the brewery he would be called a coward. Bill would +tell it all over the neighborhood, and his hero would be shamed. At last +Lime nodded his head in consent and Al turned off into the river road. + +When they drew up at the brewery by the river the other fellows had all +entered and the door was shut. There were two or three other teams +hitched about under the trees. The men sprang out and Bill danced a jig +in anticipation of the fun to follow. "If Steve starts to lam Lime +there'll be a circus." + +As they stood for a moment before the door Al spoke to Lime about +Steve's probable attack. "I ain't goin' to hunt around for no row," +replied Lime, placidly, "and I don't believe Steve is. You lads," he +said to the boys, "watch the team for a little while; cuddle down under +the blankets if you git cold. It ain't no place for you in the inside. +We won't stop long," he ended, cheerily. + +The door opened and let out a dull red light, closed again, and all was +still except an occasional burst of laughter and noise of heavy feet +within. The scene made an indelible impress upon John, child though he +was. Fifty feet away the river sang over its shallows, broad and +whitened with foam which gleamed like frosted silver in the brilliant +moonlight. The trees were dark and tall about him and loomed overhead +against the starlit sky, and the broad high moon threw a thick tracery +of shadows on the dusty white road where the horses stood. Only the +rhythmic flow of the broad, swift river, with the occasional uneasy +movement of the horses under their creaking harnesses or the dull noise +of the shouting men within the shanty, was to be heard. + +John nestled down into the robes and took to dreaming of the lovely lady +he had seen, and wondered if, when he became a man, he should have a +wife like her. He was awakened by Frank, who was rousing him to serve a +purpose of his own. John was ten and Frank fifteen; he rubbed his sleepy +eyes and rose under orders. + +"Say, Johnny, what d'yeh s'pose them fellers are doen' in there? You +said Steve was goin' to lick Lime, you did. It don't sound much like it +in there. Hear 'um laugh," he said viciously and regretfully. "Say, +John, you sly along and peek in and see what they're up to, an' come an' +tell me, while I hold the horses," he said, to hide the fact that John +was doing a good deal for his benefit. + +John got slowly off the wagon and hobbled on toward the saloon, stiff +with the cold. As he neared the door he could hear some one talking in a +loud voice, while the rest laughed at intervals in the manner of those +who are listening to the good points in a story. Not daring to open the +door, Johnny stood around the front trying to find a crevice to look in +at. The speaker inside had finished his joke and some one had begun +singing. + +The building was a lean-to attached to the brewery, and was a rude and +hastily constructed affair. It had only two windows; one was on the side +and the other on the back. The window on the side was out of John's +reach, so he went to the back of the shanty. It was built partly into +the hill, and the window was at the top of the bank. John found that by +lying down on the ground on the outside he had a good view of the +interior. The window, while level with the ground on the outside, was +about as high as the face of a man on the inside. He was extremely +wide-awake now and peered in at the scene with round, unblinking eyes. + +Steve was making sport for the rest and stood leaning his elbow on the +bar. He was in rare good humor, for him. His hat was lying beside him +and he was in his shirt-sleeves, and his cruel gray eyes, pockmarked +face and broken nose were lighted up with a frightful smile. He was +good-natured now, but the next drink might set him wild. Hank stood +behind the high pine bar, a broad but nervous grin on his round, red +face. Two big kerosene lamps, through a couple of smoky chimneys, sent +a dull red glare upon the company, which half filled the room. + +If Steve's face was unpleasant to look upon, the nonchalant, tiger-like +poise and flex of his body was not. He had been dancing, it seemed, and +had thrown off his coat, and as he talked he repeatedly rolled his blue +shirt-sleeves up and down as though the motion were habitual to him. +Most of the men were sitting around the room looking on and laughing at +Steve's antics, and the antics of one or two others who were just drunk +enough to make fools of themselves. Two or three sat on an old billiard +table under the window through which John was peering. + +Lime sat in his characteristic attitude, his elbows upon his knees and +his thumbs under his chin. His eyes were lazily raised now and then with +a lion-like action of the muscles of his forehead. But he seemed to take +little interest in the ribaldry of the other fellows. John measured both +champions critically, and exulted in the feeling that Steve was not so +ready for the row with Lime as he thought he was. + +After Steve had finished his story there was a chorus of roars: "Bully +for you, Steve!" "Give us another," etc. Steve, much flattered, nodded +to the alert saloon-keeper, and said: "Give us another, Hank." As the +rest all sprang up he added: "Pull out that brandy kaig this time, +Hank. Trot her out, you white-livered Dutchman," he roared, as Swartz +hesitated. + +The brewer fetched it up from beneath the bar, but he did it +reluctantly. In the midst of the hubbub thus produced, an abnormally +tall and lanky fellow known as "High" Bedloe pushed up to the bar and +made an effort to speak, and finally did say solemnly: + +"Gen'lmun, Steve, say, gen'lmun, do'n' less mix our drinks!" + +This was received with boisterous delight, in which Bedloe could not see +the joke, and looked feebly astonished. + +Just at this point John received such a fright as entirely took away his +powers of moving or breathing, for something laid hold of his heels with +deadly grip. He was getting his breath to yell when a familiar voice at +his ear said, in a tone somewhere between a whisper and a groan: + +"Say, what they up to all this while? I'm sick o' wait'n' out there." + +Frank had become impatient; as for John, he had been so absorbed by the +scenes within, he had not noticed how the frosty ground was slowly +stiffening his limbs and setting his teeth chattering. They were both +now looking in at the window. John had simply pointed with his mittened, +stubby thumb toward the interior, and Frank had crawled along to a place +beside him. + +Mixing the drinks had produced the disastrous effect which Hank and +Bedloe had anticipated. The fun became uproarious. There were songs and +dances by various members of the Nagle gang, but Lime's crowd, being in +the minority, kept quiet, occasionally standing treat as was the proper +thing to do. + +But Steve grew wilder and more irritable every moment. He seemed to have +drunk just enough to let loose the terrible force that slept in his +muscles. He had tugged at his throat until the strings of his woolen +shirt loosened, displaying the great, sloping muscles of his neck and +shoulders, white as milk and hard as iron. His eyes rolled restlessly to +and fro as he paced the floor. His panther-like step was full of a +terrible suggestiveness. The breath of the boys at the window came +quicker and quicker. They saw he was working himself into a rage that +threatened momentarily to break forth into a violence. He realized that +this was a crisis in his career; his reputation was at stake. + +Young as John was, he understood the whole matter as he studied the +restless Steve, and compared him with his impassive hero, sitting +immovable. + +"You see Lime can't go away," he explained, breathlessly, to Frank, in a +whisper, "'cause they'd tell it all over the country that he backed down +for Steve. He daresn't leave." + +"Steve ain't no durn fool," returned the superior wisdom of Frank, in +the same cautious whisper, keeping his eyes on the bar-room. "See Lime +there, cool as a cucumber. He's from the pineries, he is." He ended in a +tone of voice intended to convey that fighting was the principal study +of the pineries, and that Lime had graduated with the highest honors. +"Steve ain't a-go'n' to pitch into him yet awhile, you bet y'r bottom +dollar; he ain't drunk enough for that." + +Each time the invitation for another drink was given, they noticed that +Lime kept on the outside of the crowd, and some one helped him to his +glass. "Don't you see he ain't drinkin'. He's throwin' it away," said +Frank; "there, see! He's foolun' 'em; he ain't a-go'n' to be drunk when +Steve tackles him. Oh, there'll be music in a minute or two." + +Steve now walked the floor, pouring forth a flood of profanity and +challenges against men who were not present. He had not brought himself +to the point of attacking the unmoved and silent giant. Some of the +younger men, and especially the pleader against mixed drinks, had +succumbed, and were sleeping heavily on the back end of the bar and on +the billiard table. Hank was getting anxious, and the forced smile on +his face was painful to see. Over the whole group there was a singular +air of waiting. No one was enjoying himself, and all wished that they +were on the road home, but there was no way out of it now. It was +evident that Lime purposed forcing the beginning of the battle on Steve. +He sat in statuesque repose. + +Steve had got his hat in his hand and held it doubled up like a club, +and every time that he turned in his restless walk he struck the bar a +resounding blow. His eyes seemed to see nothing, although they moved +wildly from side to side. + +He lifted up his voice in a raucous snarl. "I'm the man that struck +Billy Patterson! I'm the man that bunted the bull off the bridge! +Anybody got anything to say, now's his time. I'm here. Bring on your +champion." + +Foam came into the corners of his mouth, and the veins stood out on his +neck. His red face shone with its swollen veins. He smashed his fists +together, threw his hat on the floor, tramped on it, snarling out +curses. Nothing kept him in check save the imperturbability of the +seated figure. Everybody expected him to clear the saloon to prove his +power. + +Bedloe, who was asleep on the table, precipitated matters by rolling off +with a prodigious noise amid a pandemonium of howls and laughter. In his +anxiety to see what was going on, Frank thrust his head violently +against the window, and it crashed in, sending the glass rattling down +on the table. + +Steve looked up, a red sheen in his eyes like that of a wild beast. +Instantly his fury burst out against this new object of attention--a +wild, unreasoning rage. + +"What you doen' there? Who air ye, ye mangy little dog?" + +Both boys sank back in tumultuous, shuddering haste, and rolled down the +embankment, while they heard the voice of Steve thundering: "Fetch the +little whelp here!" + +There was a rush from the inside, a sudden outpouring, and the next +moment John felt a hand touch his shoulder. Steve dragged him around to +the front of the saloon before he could draw his breath or utter a +sound. The rest crowded around. + +"What are y' doen' there?" said Steve, shaking him with insane +vindictiveness. + +"Drop that boy!" said the voice of Lime, and voice never sounded +sweeter. "Drop that boy!" he repeated, and his voice had a peculiar +sound, as if it came through his teeth. + +Steve dropped him, and turned with a grating snarl upon Lime, who opened +his way through the excited crowd while Johnny stumbled, leaped and +crawled out of the ring and joined Frank. "Oh, it's you, is it? You +white-livered"----He did not finish, for the arm of the blond giant shot +out against his face like a beetle, and down he rolled on the grass. +The sound of the blow made Johnny give an involuntary, quick cry. + +"No human bein' could have stood up agin that blow," Crandall said +afterwards. "It was like a mule a-kickin'." + +As Steve slowly gained his feet, the silence was so great that Johnny +could hear the thumping of his heart and the fierce, almost articulate +breathing of Steve. The chatter and roar of the drunken crowd had been +silenced by this encounter of the giants. The open door, where Hank +stood, sent a reddish bar of light upon the two men as they faced each +other with a sort of terrific calm. In his swift gaze in search of his +brother, John noticed the dark wood, the river murmuring drowsily over +its foam-wreathed pebbles, and saw his brother's face white with +excitement, but not fear. + +Lime's blow had dazed Steve for a moment, but at the same time it had +sobered him. He came to his feet with a rising mutter that sounded like +the swelling snarl of a tiger. He had been taken by surprise before, and +he now came forward with his hands in position, to vindicate his +terrible reputation. The two men met in a frightful struggle. Blows that +meant murder were dealt by each. Each slapping thud seemed to carry the +cracking of bones in it. Steve was the more agile of the two and +circled rapidly around, striking like a boxer. + +Every time his face came into view, with set teeth and ferocious scowl, +the boys' spirits fell. But when they saw the calm, determined eyes of +Lime, his watchful, confident look, they grew assured. All depended upon +him. The Nagle gang were like wolves in their growing ferocity, and as +they outnumbered the other party two to one, it was a critical quarter +of an hour. In a swift retrospect they remembered the frightful tales +told of this very spot--of the killing of Lars Peterson and his brother +Nels, and the brutal hammering a crowd of drunken men had given to Big +Ole, of the Wapsy. + +The blood was trickling down Lime's face from a cut on his cheek, but +Steve's face was swollen and ghastly from the three blows which he had +received. Lime was saving himself for a supreme effort. The Nagle party, +encouraged by the sound of the blows which Steve struck, began to yell +and to show that they were ready to take a hand in the contest. + +"Go it, Steve, we'll back yeh! Give it to 'im. We're with yeh! We'll +tend to the rest." They began to pull off their coats. + +Rice also threw off his coat. "Never mind these cowards, Lime. Hold on! +Fair play!" he yelled, as he saw young Nagle about to strike Lime from +behind. + +His cry startled Lime, and with a sudden leap he dealt Steve a terrible +blow full in the face, and as he went reeling back made another leaping +lunge and struck him to the ground--a motion that seemed impossible to +one of his bulk. But as he did so one of the crowd tripped him and sent +him rolling upon the prostrate Steve, whose friends leaped like a pack +of snarling wolves upon Lime's back. There came into the giant's heart a +terrible, blind, desperate resolution. With a hoarse, inarticulate cry +he gathered himself for one supreme effort and rose from the heap like a +bear shaking off a pack of dogs; and holding the stunned and nerveless +Steve in his great hands, with one swift, incredible effort literally +swept his opponent's body in the faces of the infuriated men rushing +down upon him. + +"Come on, you red hellions!" he shouted, in a voice like a lion at bay. +The light streamed on his bared head, his hands were clinched, his chest +heaved in great gasps. There was no movement. The crowd waited with +their hands lowered; before such a man they could not stand for a +moment. They could not meet the blaze of his eyes. For a moment it +seemed as if no one breathed. + +In the silence that followed, Bill, who had kept gut of sight up to this +moment, piped out in a high, weak falsetto, with a comically +questioning accent: "All quiet along the Potomac, boys?" + +Lime unbraced, wiped his face and laughed. The others joined in +cautiously. "No, thank yez, none in mine," said Sheehan, in answer to +the challenge of Lime. "Whan Oi take to fightin' stame-ingins Oi'll lit +you knaw." + +"Well, I should say so," said another. "Lime, you're the best man that +walks this State." + +"Git out of the way, you white-livered hound, or I'll blow hell out o' +yeh," said Steve, who had recovered himself sufficiently to know what it +all meant. He lay upon the grass behind the rest and was weakly trying +to get his revolver sighted upon Lime. One of the men caught him by the +shoulder and the rest yelled: + +"Hyare, Steve, no shootin'. It was a fair go, and you're whipped." + +Steve only repeated his warnings to get out of the way. Lime turned upon +him and kicked the weapon from his outstretched hand, breaking his arm +at the wrist. The bullet went flying harmlessly into the air, and the +revolver hurtled away into the shadows. + +Walking through the ring, Lime took John by the hand and said: "Come, +boy, this is no place for you. Let's go home. Fellers," he drawled in +his customary lazy way, "when y' want me you know where to find me. +Come, boys, the circus is over, the last dog is hung." + +For the first mile or two there was a good deal of talk, and Bill said +he knew that Lime could whip the whole crowd. + +"But where was you, Bill, about the time they had me down? I don't +remember hearin' anything of you 'long about that time, Bill." + +Bill had nothing to say. + +"Made me think somehow of Daniel in the lions' den," said Johnny. + +"What do you mean by that, Johnny?" said Bill. "It made me think of a +circus. The circus there'll be when Lime's woman finds out what he's +been a-doin'." + +"Great Scott, boys, you mustn't tell on me," said Lime, in genuine +alarm. + +As for John, he lay with his head in Lime's lap, looking up at the glory +of the starlit night, and with a confused mingling of the play, of the +voice of the lovely woman, of the shouts and blows at the brewery in his +mind, and with the murmur of the river and the roll and rumble of the +wagon blending in his ears, he fell into a sleep which the rhythmic beat +of the horses' hoofs did not interrupt. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART VI. + + +VILLAGE CRONIES: A GAME OF CHECKERS AT THE GROCERY + + The village life abounds with jokers, + Shiftless, conscienceless and shrewd. + + +SOME VILLAGE CRONIES. + + +Colonel Peavy had just begun the rubber with Squire Gordon, of Cerro +Gordo County. They were seated in Robie's grocery, behind the rusty old +cannon stove, the checkerboard spread out on their knees. The Colonel +was grinning in great glee, wringing his bony yellow hands in nervous +excitement, in strong contrast to the stolid calm of the fat Squire. + +The Colonel had won the last game by a large margin, and was sure he had +his opponent's dodges well in hand. It was early in the evening, and the +grocery was comparatively empty. Robie was figuring at a desk, and old +Judge Brown stood in legal gravity warming his legs at the red-hot +stove, and swaying gently back and forth in speechless content. It was a +tough night outside, one of the toughest for years. The frost had +completely shut the window panes as with thick blankets of snow. The +streets were silent. + +"I don't know," said the Judge, reflectively, to Robie, breaking the +silence in his rasping, judicial bass, "I don't know as there has been +such a night as this since the night of February 2d, '59; that was the +night James Kirk went under--Honorable Kirk, you remember--knew him +well. Brilliant fellow, ornament to Western bar. But whisky downed him. +It'll beat the oldest man--I wonder where the boys all are to-night? +Don't seem to be any one stirring on the street. Ain't frightened out by +the cold?" + +"Shouldn't wonder." Robie was busy at his desk, and not in humor for +conversation on reminiscent lines. The two old war-dogs at the board had +settled down to one of those long, silent struggles which ensue when two +champions meet. In the silence which followed, the Judge was looking +attentively at the back of the Colonel, and thinking that the old thief +was getting about down to skin and bone. He turned with a yawn to Robie, +saying: + +"This cold weather must take hold of the old Colonel terribly, he's so +damnably thin and bald, you know,--bald as a babe. The fact is, the old +Colonel ain't long for this world, anyway; think so, Hank?" Robie making +no reply, the Judge relapsed into silence for awhile, watching the cat +(perilously walking along the edge of the upper shelf) and listening to +the occasional hurrying footsteps outside. "I don't know _when_ I've +seen the windows closed up so, Hank; go down to thirty below to-night; +devilish strong wind blowing, too; tough night on the prairies, Hank." + +"You bet," replied Hank, briefly. + +The Colonel was plainly getting excited. His razor-like back curved +sharper than ever as he peered into the intricacies of the board to spy +the trap which the fat Squire had set for him. At this point the squeal +of boots on the icy walk outside paused, and a moment later Amos Ridings +entered, with whiskers covered with ice, and looking like a huge bear in +his buffalo coat. + +"By Josephus! it's cold," he roared, as he took off his gloves and began +to warm his face and hands at the fire. + +"Is it?" asked the Judge, comfortably, rising on his tiptoes, only to +fall back into his usual attitude legal, legs well spread, shoulders +thrown back. + +"You bet it is!" replied Amos. "I d'know when I've felt the cold more'n +I have t'-day. It's jest snifty; doubles me up like a jack-knife, Judge. +How do you stand it?" + +"Toler'ble, toler'ble, Amos. But we're agin', we ain't what we were +once. Cold takes hold of us." + +"That's a fact," answered Amos to the retrospective musings of the +Judge. "Time was you an' me would go t' singing-school or sleigh-riding +with the girls on a night like this and never notice it." + +"Yes, sir; yes, sir!" said the Judge with a sigh. It was a little +uncertain in Robie's mind whether the Judge was regretting the lost +ability to stand the cold, or the lost pleasure of riding with the +girls. + +"Great days, those, gentlemen! Lived in Vermont then. Hot-blooded--lungs +like an ox. I remember, Sallie Dearborn and I used to go a-foot to +singing-school down the valley four miles. But now, wouldn't go riding +to-night with the handsomest woman in America, and the best cutter in +Rock River." + +"Oh! you've got both feet in the grave up t' the ankles, anyway," said +Robie, from his desk, but the Judge immovably gazed at the upper shelf +on the other side of the room, where the boilers and pans and washboards +were stored. + +"The Judge is a little on the sentimental order to-night," said Amos. + +"Hold on, Colonel! hold on. You've _got_'o jump. Hah! hah!" roared +Gordon from the checkerboard. "That's right, that's right!" he ended, +as the Colonel complied reluctantly. + +"Sock it to the old cuss!" commented Amos. "What I was going to say," he +resumed, rolling down the collar of his coat, "was, that when my wife +helped me bundle up t'night, she said I was gitt'n' t' be an old +granny. We _are_ agin', Judge, the's no denyin' that. We're both gray as +Norway rats now. An' speaking of us agin' reminds me,--have y' noticed +how bald the old Kyernel's gitt'n'?" + +"I have, Amos," answered the Judge, mournfully. "The old man's head is +showing age, showing age! Getting thin up there, ain't it?" + +The old Colonel bent to his work with studied abstraction, and even when +Amos said, judicially, after long scrutiny: "Yes, he'll soon be as bald +as a plate," he only lifted one yellow, freckled, bony hand, and brushed +his carroty growth of hair across the spot under discussion. Gordon +shook his fat paunch in silent laughter, nearly displacing the board. + +"I was just telling Robie," pursued Brown, still retaining his +reminiscent intonation, "that this storm takes the cake over +anything"---- + +At this point Steve Roach and another fellow entered. Steve was Ridings' +hired hand, a herculean fellow, with a drawl, and a liability for taking +offense quite as remarkable. + +"Say! gents, I'm no spring rooster, but this jest gits away with +anything in line of cold _I_ ever see." + +While this communication was being received in ruminative silence, Steve +was holding his ears in his hand and gazing at the intent champions at +the board. There they sat; the old Squire panting and wheezing in his +excitement, for he was planning a great "snap" on the Colonel, whose +red and freckled nose almost touched the board. It was a solemn battle +hour. The wind howled mournfully outside, the timbers of the store +creaked in the cold, and the huge cannon stove roared in steady bass. + +"Speaking about ears," said Steve, after a silence, "dummed if I'd like +t' be quite s' bare 'round the ears as Kernel there. I wonder if any o' +you fellers has noticed how the ol' feller's lost hair this last summer. +He's gittin' bald, they's no coverin' it up--gittin' bald as a plate." + +"You're right, Stephen," said the Judge, as he gravely took his stand +behind his brother advocate and studied, with the eye of an adept, the +field of battle. "We were noticing it when you came in. It's a sad +thing, but it must be admitted." + +"It's the Kyernel's brains wearin' up through his hair, I take it," +commented Amos, as he helped himself to a handful of peanuts out of the +bag behind the counter. "Say, Steve, did y' stuff up that hole in front +of ol' Barney?" + +A shout was heard outside, and then a rush against the door, and +immediately two young fellows burst in, followed by a fierce gust of +snow. One was Professor Knapp, the other Editor Foster, of the _Morning +Call_. + +"Well, gents, how's this for high?" said Foster, in a peculiar tone of +voice, at which all began to smile. He was a slender fellow with +close-clipped, assertive red hair. "In this company we now have the +majesty of the law, the power of the press, and the underpinning of the +American civilization all represented. Hello! There are a couple of old +roosters with their heads together. Gordon, my old enemy, how are you?" + +Gordon waved him off with a smile and a wheeze. "Don't bother me now. +I've got 'im. I'm laying f'r the old dog. Whist!" + +"Got nothing!" snarled the Colonel. "You try that on if you want to. +Just swing that man in there if you think it's healthy for him. Just as +like as not, you'll slip up on that little trick." + +"Ha! Say you so, old True Penny? The Kunnel has met a foeman worthy of +his steel," said Foster, in great glee, as he bent above the Colonel. "I +know. _How_ do I know, quotha? By the curve on the Kunnel's back. The +size of the parabola described by that backbone accurately gauges his +adversary's skill. But, by the way, gentlemen, have you--but that's a +nice point, and I refer all nice points to Professor Knapp. Professor, +is it in good taste to make remarks concerning the dress or features of +another?" + +"Certainly not," answered Knapp, a handsome young fellow with a yellow +mustache. + +"Not when the person is an esteemed public character, like the Colonel +here? What I was about to remark, if it had been proper, was that the +old fellow is getting wofully bald. He'll soon be bald as an egg." + +"Say!" asked the Colonel, "I want to know how long you're going to keep +this thing up? Somebody's dummed sure t' get hurt soon." + +"There, there! Colonel," said Brown, soothingly, "don't get excited; +you'll lose the rubber. Don't mind 'em. Keep cool." + +"Yes, keep cool, Kunnel; it's only our solicitude for your welfare," +chipped in Foster. Then, addressing the crowd in a general sort of way, +he speculated: "Curious how a man, a plain American citizen like Colonel +Peavy, wins a place in the innermost affections of a whole people." + +"That's so!" murmured the rest. + +"He can't grow bald without deep sympathy from his fellow-citizens. It +amounts to a public calamity." + +The old Colonel glared in speechless wrath. + +"Say! gents," pleaded Gordon, "let up on the old man for the present. +He's going to need all of himself if he gets out o' the trap he's in +now." He waved, his fat hand over the Colonel's head, and smiled blandly +at the crowd hugging the stove. + +"My head may be bald," grated the old man with a death's-head grin, +indescribably ferocious, "but it's got brains enough in it to skunk any +man in this crowd three games out o' five." + +"The ol' man rather gits the laugh on y' there, gents," called Robie +from the other side of the counter. "I hain't seen the old skeesix play +better'n he did last night, in years." + +"Not since his return from Canada, after the war, I reckon," said Amos, +from the kerosene barrel. + +"Hold on, Amos," put in the Judge warningly, "that's outlawed. Talking +about being bald and the war reminds me of the night Walters and I---- +By the way, where is Walters to-night?" + +"Sick," put in the Colonel, straightening up exultantly. "I waxed him +three straight games last night. You won't see him again till spring. +Skunked him once, and beat him twice." + +"Oh, git out." + +"Hear the old seed twitter!" + +"Did you ever notice, gentlemen, how lying and baldness go together?" +queried Foster, reflectively. + +"No! Do they?" + +"Invariably. I've known many colossal liars, and they were all as bald +as apples." + +The Colonel was getting nervous, and was so slow that even Gordon (who +could sit and stare at the board a full half hour without moving) began +to be impatient. + +"Come, Colonel, marshal your forces a little more promptly. If you're +going at me _echelon_, sound y'r bugle; I'm ready." + +"Don't worry," answered the Colonel, in his calmest nasal. "I'll +accommodate you with all the fight you want." + +"Did it ever occur to you," began the Judge again, addressing the crowd +generally, as he moved back to the stove and lit another cigar, "did it +ever occur to you that it is a little singular a man should get bald on +the _top_ of his head first? Curious fact. So accustomed to it we no +longer wonder at it. Now see the Colonel there. Quite a growth of hair +on his clapboarding, as it were, but devilish thin on his roof." + +Here the Colonel looked up and tried to say something, but the Judge +went on imperturbably: + +"Now, I take it that it's strictly providential that a man gets bald on +top of his head first, because, if he _must_ get bald, it is best to get +bald where it can be covered up." + +"By jinks, that's a fact!" said Foster, in high admiration of the +Judge's ratiocination. Steve was specially pleased, and, drawing a +neck-yoke from a barrel standing near, pounded the floor vigorously. + +"Talking about being bald," put in Foster, "reminds me of a scheme of +mine, which is to send no one out to fight Indians but bald men. Think +how powerless they'd be in"---- + +The talk now drifted off to Indians, politics and religion, edged round +to the war, when the grave Judge began telling Ridings and Robie just +how "Kilpatrick charged along the Granny White Turnpike," and, on a +sheet of wrapping-paper, was showing where Major John Dilrigg fell. "I +was on his left, about thirty yards, when I saw him throw up his +hand"---- + +Foster in a low voice was telling something to the Professor and two or +three others, which made them whoop with uncontrollable merriment, when +the roaring voice of big Sam Walters was heard outside, and a moment +later he rolled into the room, filling it with his noise. Lottridge, the +watchmaker, and Erlberg, the German baker, came in with him. + +"_Hello_, hello, _hello_! All here, are yeh?" + +"All here waiting for you--and the turnkey," said Foster. + +"Well, here I am. Always on hand, like a sore thumb in huskin' season. +What's goin' on here? A game, hey? Hello, Gordon, it's you, is it? +Colonel, I owe you several for last night. But what the devil yo' got +your cap on fur, Colonel? Ain't it warm enough here for yeh?" + +The desperate Colonel, who had snatched up his cap when he heard Walters +coming, grinned painfully, pulling his straggly red and white beard +nervously. The strain was beginning to tell on his iron nerves. He +removed the cap, and with a few muttered words went back to the game, +but there was a dangerous gleam in his fishy blue eyes, and the grizzled +tufts of red hair above his eyes lowered threateningly. A man who is +getting swamped in a game of checkers is not in a mood to bear +pleasantly any remarks on his bald head. + +"Oh! don't take it off, Colonel," went on his tormentor, hospitably. +"When a man gets as old as you are, he's privileged to wear his cap. I +wonder if any of you fellers have noticed how the Colonel is shedding +his hair." + +The old man leaped up, scattering the men on the checkerboard, which +flew up and struck Squire Gordon in the face, knocking him off his +stool. The old Colonel was ashy pale, and his eyes glared out from under +his huge brow like sapphires lit by flame. His spare form, clothed in a +seedy Prince Albert frock, towered with a singular dignity. His features +worked convulsively a moment, then he burst forth like the explosion of +a safety valve: + +"Shuttup, damyeh!" + +And then the crowd whooped, roared and rolled on the counters and +barrels, and roared and whooped again. They stamped and yelled, and ran +around like fiends, kicking the boxes and banging the coal scuttle in a +perfect pandemonium of mirth, leaving the old man standing there +helpless in his wrath, mad enough to shoot. Steve was just preparing to +seize the old man from behind, when Squire Gordon, struggling to his +feet among the spittoons, cried out, in the voice of a colonel of Fourth +of July militia: + +"H-O-L-D!" + +Silence was restored, and all stood around in expectant attitudes to +hear the Squire's explanation. He squared his elbows, shoved up his +sleeves, puffed out his fat cheeks, moistened his lips, and began +pompously: "Gentlemen"---- + +"You've hit it; that's us," said some of the crowd in applause. + +"Gentlemen of Rock River, when, in the course of human events, rumor had +blow'd to my ears the history of the checker-playing of Rock River, and +when I had waxed Cerro Gordo, and Claiborne, and Mower, then, when I say +to my ears was borne the clash of resounding arms in Rock River, the +emporium of Rock County, then did I yearn for more worlds to conquer, +and behold, I buckled on my armor and I am here." + +"Behold, he is here," said Foster, in confirmation of the statement. +"Good for you, Squire; git breath and go for us some more." + +"Hurrah for the Squire," etc. + +"I came seekin' whom I might devour, like a raging lion. I sought foeman +worthy of my steel. I leaped into the arena and blew my challenge to +the four quarters of Rock"---- + +"Good f'r you! Settemupagin! Go it, you old balloon," they all +applauded. + +"Knowing my prowess, I sought a fair fout and no favors. I met the +enemy, and he was mine. Champion after champion went down before me +like--went down like--Ahem! went _down_ before me like grass before the +mighty cyclone of the Andes." + +"Listen to the old blowhard," said Steve. + +"Put him out," said the speaker, imperturbably. "Gentlemen, have I the +floor?" + +"You have," replied Brown, "but come to the point. The Colonel is +anxious to begin shooting." The Colonel, who began to suspect himself +victimized, stood wondering what under heaven they were going to do +next. + +"I am a-gitt'n' there," said the orator with a broad and sunny +condescension. "I found your champions an' laid 'em low. I waxed +Walters, and then I tackled the Colonel. I tried the _echelon_, the +'general advance,' then the 'give away' and 'flank' movements. But the +Colonel _was there_! Till this last game it was a fair field and no +favor. And now, gentlemen of Rock, I desire t' state to my deeply +respected opponent that he is still champion of Rock, and I'm not sure +but of Northern Iowa." + +"Three cheers for the Kunnel!" + +And while they were being given the Colonel's brows relaxed, and the +champion of Cerro Gordo continued earnestly: + +"And now I wish to state to Colonel the solemn fact that I had nothing +to do with the job put up on him to-night. I scorn to use such means in +a battle. Colonel, you may be as bald as an apple, or an egg, yes, or a +_plate_, but you can play more checkers than any man I ever met; more +checkers than any other man on God's green footstool. With one single, +lone exception--myself." + +At this moment, somebody hit the Squire from Cerro Gordo with a decayed +apple, and as the crowd shouted and groaned Robie turned down the lights +on the tumult. The old Colonel seized the opportunity for putting a +handful of salt down Walters' neck, and slipped out of the door like a +ghost. As the crowd swarmed out on the icy walk, Editor Foster yelled: + +"Gents! let me give you a pointer. Keep your eye peeled for the next +edition of the Rock River _Morning Call_." + +And the bitter wind swept away the answering shouts of the pitiless +gang. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART VII. + + +DRIFTING CRANE: THE INDIAN AND THE PIONEER + + Before them, surely, sullenly and slow, + The desperate and cheated Indians go. + + +DRIFTING CRANE. + + +The people of Boomtown invariably spoke of Henry Wilson as the oldest +settler in the Jim Valley, as he was of Buster County; but the Eastern +man, with his ideas of an "old settler," was surprised as he met the +short, silent, middle-aged man, who was very loath to tell anything +about himself, and about whom many strange and thrilling stories were +told by good story-tellers. In 1879 he was the only settler in the upper +part of the valley, living alone on the banks of the Elm, a slow, +tortuous stream pulsing lazily down the valley, too small to be called a +river and too long to be called a creek. For two years, it is said, +Wilson had only the company of his cattle, especially during the +winter-time, and now and then a visit from an Indian, or a trapper after +mink and musk-rats. + +Between his ranch and the settlements in Eastern Dakota there was the +wedge-shaped reservation known as the Sisseton Indian Reserve, on which +were stationed the customary agency and company of soldiers. But, of +course, at that time the Indians were not restricted closely to the +bounds of the reserve, but ranged freely over the vast and beautiful +prairie lying between the coteaux or ranges of low hills which mark out +"the Jim Valley." The valley was unsurveyed for the most part, and the +Indians naturally felt a sort of proprietorship in it, and when Wilson +drove his cattle down into the valley and squatted, the chief, Drifting +Crane, welcomed him, as a host might, to an abundant feast whose +hospitality was presumed upon, but who felt the need of sustaining his +reputation as a host, and submitted graciously. + +The Indians during the first summer got to know Wilson, and liked him +for his silence, his courage, his generosity; but the older men pondered +upon the matter a great deal and watched with grave faces to see him +ploughing up the sod for his garden. There was something strange in this +solitary man thus deserting his kindred, coming here to live alone with +his cattle; they could not understand it. What they said in those +pathetic, dimly lighted lodges will never be known; but when winter +came, and the new-comer did not drive his cattle back over the hills as +they thought he would, then the old chieftains took long counsel upon +it. Night after night they smoked upon it, and at last Drifting Crane +said to two of his young men: "Go ask this cattleman why he remains in +the cold and snow with his cattle. Ask him why he does not drive his +cattle home." + +This was in March, and one evening a couple of days later, as Wilson was +about re-entering his shanty at the close of his day's work, he was +confronted by two stalwart Indians, who greeted him pleasantly. + +"How d'e do? How d'e do?" he said in reply. "Come in. Come in and take a +snack." + +The Indians entered and sat silently while he put some food on the +table. They hardly spoke till after they had eaten. The Indian is always +hungry, for the reason that his food supply is insufficient and his +clothing poor. When they sat on the cracker-boxes and soap-boxes which +served as seats, they spoke. They told him of the chieftain's message. +They said they had come to assist him in driving his cattle back across +the hills; that he must go. + +To all this talk in the Indian's epigrammatic way, and in the dialect +which has never been written, the rancher replied almost as briefly: +"You go back and tell Drifting Crane that I like this place; that I'm +here to stay; that I don't want any help to drive my cattle. I'm on the +lands of the Great Father at Washington, and Drifting Crane ain't got +any say about it. Now that sizes the whole thing up. I ain't got +anything against you nor against him, but I'm a settler; that's my +constitution; and now I'm settled I'm going to stay." + +While the Indians discussed his words between themselves he made a bed +of blankets on the floor and said: "I never turn anybody out. A white +man is just as good as an Indian as long as he behaves himself as well. +You can bunk here." + +The Indians didn't understand his words fully, but they did understand +his gesture, and they smiled and accepted the courtesy, so like their +own rude hospitality. Then they all smoked a pipe of tobacco in silence, +and at last Wilson turned in and went serenely off to sleep, hearing the +mutter of the Indians lying before the fire. + +In the morning he gave them as good a breakfast as he had--bacon and +potatoes, with coffee and crackers. Then he shook hands, saying: "Come +again. I ain't got anything against you. You've done y'r duty. Now go +back and tell your chief what I've said. I'm at home every day. Good +day." + +The Indians smiled kindly, and drawing their blankets over their arms, +went away toward the east. + +During April and May two or three reconnoitering parties of land-hunters +drifted over the hills and found him out. He was glad to see them, for, +to tell the truth, the solitude of his life was telling on him. The +winter had been severe, and he had hardly caught a glimpse of a white +face during the three midwinter months, and his provisions were scanty. + +These parties brought great news. One of them was the advance surveying +party for a great Northern railroad, and they said a line of road was to +be surveyed during the summer if their report was favorable. + +"Well, what d'ye think of it?" Wilson asked, with a smile. + +"Think! It's immense!" said a small man in the party, whom the rest +called Judge Balser. "Why, they'll be a town of four thousand +inhabitants in this valley before snow flies. We'll send the surveyors +right over the divide next month." + +They sent some papers to Wilson a few weeks later, which he devoured as +a hungry dog might devour a plate of bacon. The papers were full of the +wonderful resources of the Jim Valley. It spoke of the nutritious +grasses for stock. It spoke of the successful venture of the lonely +settler Wilson, how his stock fattened upon the winter grasses without +shelter, etc., what vegetables he grew, etc., etc. + +Wilson was reading this paper for the sixth time one evening in May. He +had laid off his boots, his pipe was freshly filled, and he sat in the +doorway in vast content, unmindful of the glory of color that filled the +western sky, and the superb evening chorus of the prairie-chickens, +holding conventions on every hillock. He felt something touch him on the +shoulder, and looked up to see a tall Indian gazing down upon him with a +look of strange pride and gravity. Wilson sprang to his feet and held +out his hand. + +"Drifting Crane, how d'e do?" + +The Indian bowed, but did not take the settler's hand. Drifting Crane +would have been called old if he had been a white man, and there was a +look of age in the fixed lines of his powerful, strongly modeled face, +but no suspicion of weakness in the splendid poise of his broad, +muscular body. There was a smileless gravity about his lips and eyes +which was very impressive. + +"I'm glad to see you. Come in and get something to eat," said Wilson, +after a moment's pause. + +The chief entered the cabin and took a seat near the door. He took a cup +of milk and some meat and bread silently, and ate while listening to the +talk of the settler. + +"I don't brag on my biscuits, chief, but they _eat_, if a man is hungry +enough. An' the milk's all right. I suppose you've come to see why I +ain't moseying back over the divide?" + +The chief, after a long pause, began to speak in a low, slow voice, as +if choosing his words. He spoke in broken English, of course, but his +speech was very direct and plain, and had none of those absurd figures +of rhetoric which romancers invariably put into the mouths of Indians. +His voice was almost lion-like in its depth, and yet was not unpleasant. +It was easy to see that he was a chief by virtue of his own personality. + +"Cattleman, my young men brought me bad message from you. They brought +your words to me, saying he will not go away." + +"That's about the way the thing stands," replied Wilson, in response to +the question that was in the old chief's steady eyes. "I'm here to stay. +This ain't your land. This is Uncle Sam's land, and part of it'll be +mine as soon as the surveyors come to measure it off." + +"Who gave it away?" asked the chief. "My people were cheated out of it. +They didn't know what they were doing." + +"I can't help that. That's for Congress to say. That's the business of +the Great Father at Washington." Wilson's voice changed. He knew and +liked the chief; he didn't want to offend him. "They ain't no use making +a fuss, chief. You won't gain anything." + +There was a look of deep sorrow in the old man's face. At last he spoke +again: "The cattleman is welcome; but he must go, because whenever one +white man goes and calls it good, the others come. Drifting Crane has +seen it far in the east, twice. The white men come thick as the grass. +They tear up the sod. They build houses. They scare the buffalo away. +They spoil my young men with whisky. Already they begin to climb the +eastern hills. Soon they will fill the valley, and Drifting Crane and +his people will be surrounded. The sod will all be black." + +"I hope you're right," was the rancher's grim reply. + +"But they will not come if the cattleman go back to say the water is not +good. There is no grass, and the Indians own the land." + +Wilson smiled at the childish faith of the chief. "Won't do, +chief--won't do. That won't do any good. I might as well stay." + +The chief rose. He was touched by the settler's laugh; his eyes flashed; +his voice took on a sterner note. "The white man _must_ go!" + +Wilson rose also. He was not a large man, but he was a very resolute +one. "I shan't go!" he said, through his clinched teeth. Each man +understood the tones of the other perfectly. + +It was a thrilling, a significant scene. It was in absolute truth the +meeting of the modern vidette of civilization with one of the rear-guard +of retreating barbarism. Each man was a type; each was wrong, and each +was right. The Indian as true and noble from the barbaric point of view +as the white man. He was a warrior and hunter--made so by circumstances +over which he had no control. Guiltless as the panther, because war to +a savage is the necessity of life. + +The settler represented the unflagging energy and fearless heart of the +American pioneer. Narrow-minded, partly brutalized by hard labor and a +lonely life, yet an admirable figure for all that. As he looked into the +Indian's face he seemed to grow in height. He felt behind him all the +weight of the millions of westward-moving settlers; he stood the +representative of an unborn State. He took down a rifle from the +wall--the magazine rifle, most modern of guns; he patted the stock, +pulled the crank, throwing a shell into view. + +"You know this thing, chief?" + +The Indian nodded slightly. + +"Well, I'll go when--this--is--empty." + +"But my young men are many." + +"So are the white men--my brothers." + +The chief's head dropped forward. Wilson, ashamed of his boasting, put +the rifle back on the wall. + +"I'm not here to fight. You can kill me any time. You could 'a' killed +me to-night, but it wouldn't do any good. It 'ud only make it worse for +you. Why, they'll be a town in here bigger'n all your tribe before two +grass from now. It ain't no use, Drifting Crane; it's _got_ to be. You +an' I can't help n'r hinder it. I know just how you feel about it, but +I tell yeh it ain't no use to fight." + +Drifting Crane turned his head and gazed out on the western sky, still +red with the light of the fallen sun. His face was rigid as bronze, but +there was a dreaming, prophetic look in his eyes. A lump came into the +settler's throat; for the first time in his life he got a glimpse of the +infinite despair of the Indian. He forgot that Drifting Crane was the +representative of a "vagabond race;" he saw in him, or rather _felt_ in +him, something almost magnetic. He was a _man_, and a man of sorrows. +The settler's voice was husky when he spoke again, and his lips +trembled. + +"Chief, I'd go to-morrow if it 'ud do any good, but it won't--not a +particle. You know that, when you stop to think a minute. What good did +it do to massa_cree_ all them settlers at New Ulm? What good will it do +to murder me and a hundred others? Not a bit. A thousand others would +take our places. So I might just as well stay, and we might just as well +keep good friends. Killin' is out o' fashion; don't do any good." + +There was a twitching about the stern mouth of the Indian chief. He +understood all too well the irresistible logic of the pioneer. He kept +his martial attitude, but his broad chest heaved painfully, and his eyes +grew dim. At last he said: "Good-by. Cattleman right; Drifting Crane +wrong. Shake hands. Good-by." He turned and strode away. + +The rancher watched him till he mounted his pony, picketed down by the +river; watched him as, with drooping head and rein flung loose upon the +neck of his horse, he rode away into the dusk, hungry, weary and +despairing, to face his problem alone. Again, for the thousandth time, +the impotence of the Indian's arm and the hopelessness of his fate were +shown as perfectly as if two armies had met and soaked the beautiful +prairie sod with blood. + +"This is all wrong," muttered the settler. "There's land enough for us +all, or ought to be. I don't understand---- Well, I'll leave it to Uncle +Sam anyway." He ended with a sigh. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART VIII. + + +OLD DADDY DEERING: THE COUNTRY FIDDLER + + Like Scotland's harper, + Or Irish piper, with his droning lays, + Before the spread of modern life and light + The country fiddler slowly disappears. + + +DADDY DEERING. + +I. + + +They were threshing on Farmer Jennings' place when Daddy made his very +characteristic appearance. Milton, a boy of thirteen, was gloomily +holding sacks for the measurer, and the glory of the October day was +dimmed by the suffocating dust, and poisoned by the smarting beards and +chaff which had worked their way down his neck. The bitterness of the +dreaded task was deepened also by contrast with the gambols of his +cousin Billy, who was hunting rats with Growler amid the last sheaves of +the stack bottom. The piercing shrieks of Billy, as he clapped his hands +in murderous glee, mingled now and again with the barking of the dog. + +The machine seemed to fill the world with its snarling boom, which +became a deafening yell when the cylinder ran empty for a moment. It was +nearly noon, and the men were working silently, with occasional glances +toward the sun to see how near dinner-time it was. The horses, dripping +with sweat, and with patches of foam under their harness, moved round +and round steadily to the cheery whistle of the driver. + +The wild, imperious song of the bell-metal cog-wheel had sung into +Milton's ears till it had become a torture, and every time he lifted his +eyes to the beautiful far-off sky, where the clouds floated like ships, +a lump of rebellious anger rose in his throat. Why should he work in +this choking dust and deafening noise while the hawks could sail and +sweep from hill to hill with nothing to do but play? + +Occasionally his uncle, the feeder, smiled down upon him, his face black +as a negro, great goggles of glass and wire-cloth covering his merry +eyes. His great good-nature shone out in the flash of his white teeth, +behind his dusky beard, and he tried to encourage Milton with his smile. +He seemed tireless to the other hands. He was so big and strong. He had +always been Milton's boyish hero. So Milton crowded back the tears that +came into his eyes, and would not let his uncle see how childish he was. + +A spectator riding along the road would have remarked upon the lovely +setting for this picturesque scene--the low swells of prairie, shrouded +with faint, misty light from the unclouded sky, the flaming colors of +the trees, the faint sound of cow-bells, and the cheery sound of the +machine. But to be a tourist and to be a toiler in a scene like this +are quite different things. + +They were anxious to finish the setting by noon, and so the feeder was +crowding the cylinder to its limit, rolling the grain in with slow and +apparently effortless swaying from side to side, half-buried in the +loose yellow straw. But about eleven o'clock the machine came to a +stand, to wait while a broken tooth was being replaced, and Milton fled +from the terrible dust beside the measuring-spout, and was shaking the +chaff out of his clothing, when he heard a high, snappy, nasal voice +call down from the straw-pile. A tall man, with a face completely masked +in dust, was speaking to Mr. Jennings: + +"Say, young man, I guess you'll haf to send another man up here. It's +poorty stiff work f'r two; yes, sir, poorty stiff." + +"There, there! I thought you'd cry 'cavy,'" laughed Mr. Jennings. "I +told you it wasn't the place for an old man." + +"Old man," snarled the figure in the straw. "I ain't so old but I can +daown you, sir--yessir, condemmit, yessir!" + +"I'm your man," replied Jennings, smiling up at him. + +The man rolled down the side of the stack, disappearing in a cloud of +dust and chaff. When he came to light, Milton saw a tall, gaunt old man +of sixty years of age, or older. Nothing could be seen but a dusty +expanse of face, ragged beard, and twinkling, sharp little eyes. His +color was lost, his eyes half hid. Without waiting for ceremony, the men +clinched. The crowd roared with laughter, for though Jennings was the +younger, the older man was a giant still, and the struggle lasted for +some time. He made a gallant fight, but his breath gave out, and he lay +at last flat on his back. + +"I wish I was your age, young man," he said ruefully, as he rose. "I'd +knock the heads o' these young scamps t'gether--yessir!--I could do it, +too!". + +"Talk's a good dog, uncle," said a young man. + +The old man turned on him so ferociously that he fled. + +"Run, condemn yeh! I own y' can beat me at that." + +His face was not unpleasant, though his teeth were mainly gone, and his +skin the color of leather and wrinkled as a pan of cream. His eyes had a +certain sparkle of fun that belied his rasping voice, which seemed to +have the power to lift a boy clean off his feet. His frame was bent and +thin, but of great height and breadth, bony and tough as hickory. At +some far time vast muscles must have rolled on those giant limbs, but +toil had bent and stiffened him. + +"Never been sick a day 'n my life; no, sir!" he said, in his rapid, +rasping, emphatic way, as they were riding across the stubble to dinner. +"And by gol! I c'n stand as long at the tail of a stacker as any man, +sir. Dummed if I turn my hand for any man in the State; no, sir; no, +sir! But if I do two men's works, I am goin' to have two men's +pay--that's all, sir!" + +Jennings laughed and said: "All right, uncle. I'll send another man up +there this afternoon." + +The old man seemed to take a morbid delight in the hard and dirty +places, and his endurance was marvelous. He could stand all day at the +tail of a stacker, tirelessly pushing the straw away with an indifferent +air, as if it were all mere play. + +He measured the grain the next day, because it promised to be a noisier +and dustier job than working in the straw, and it was in this capacity +that Milton came to know and to hate him, and to associate him with that +most hated of all tasks, the holding of sacks. To a twelve-year-old boy +it seems to be the worst job in the world. + +All day while the hawks wheel and dip in the glorious air, and the trees +glow like banks of roses; all day, while the younger boys are tumbling +about the sunlit straw, to be forced to stand holding sacks, like a +convict, was maddening. Daddy, whose rugged features, bent shoulders and +ragged cap loomed through the suffocating, blinding dust, necessarily +came to seem like the jailer who held the door to freedom. + +And when the dust and noise and monotony seemed the very hardest to bear +the old man's cackling laugh was sure to rise above the howl of the +cylinder. + +"Nem mind, sonny! Chaff ain't pizen; dust won't hurt ye a mite." And +when Milton was unable to laugh the old man tweaked his ear with his +leathery thumb and finger. + +Then he shouted long, disconnected yarns, to which Milton could make +neither head nor tail, and which grew at last to be inaudible to him, +just as the steady boom and snarl of the great machine did. Then he fell +to studying the old man's clothes, which were a wonder to him. He spent +a good deal of time trying to discover which were the original sections +of the coat, and especially of the vest, which was ragged and yellow +with age, with the cotton-batting working out; and yet Daddy took the +greatest care of it, folding it carefully and putting it away during the +heat of the day out of reach of the crickets. + +One of his peculiarities, as Mrs. Jennings learned on the second day, +was his habit of coming to breakfast. But he always earned all he got, +and more too; and, as it was probable that his living at home was +frugal, Mrs. Jennings smiled at his thrift, and quietly gave him his +breakfast if he arrived late, which was not often. + +He had bought a little farm not far away, and settled down into a mode +of life which he never afterward changed. As he was leaving at the end +of the third day, he said: + +"Now, sir; if you want any bootcherin' done, I'm y'r man. I don't turn +m' hand over f'r any man in the State; no, sir! I c'n git a hawg on the +gambrils jest a leetle quicker'n any other man I ever see; yes, sir; by +gum!" + +"All right, uncle; I'll send for you when I'm ready to kill." + + + + +II. + + +Hog-killing was one of the events of a boy's life on a Western farm, and +Daddy was destined to be associated in the minds of Shep and Milton with +another disagreeable job, that of building the fire, and carrying water. + +It was very early on a keen, biting morning in November when Daddy came +driving into the yard with his rude, long-runnered sled, one horse half +his length behind the other in spite of the driver's clucking. He was +delighted to catch the boys behind in the preparation. + +"A-a-h-h-r-r-h-h!" he rasped out, "you lazy vagabon's? Why ain't you got +that fire blazin'? What the devil do y' mean, you rascals! Here it is +broad daylight, and that fire not built. I vum, sir, you need a +thrashin', the whole kit an bilun' of ye; yessir! Come, come, come! +hustle now, stir your boots! hustle y'r boots--Ha! ha! ha!" + +It was of no use to plead cold weather and damp chips. + +"What has that got to do with it, sir? I vum, sir, when I was your age, +I could make a fire of green red-oak; yessir! Don't talk to me of colds! +Stir your stumps and get warm, sir!" + +The old man put up his horses (and fed them generously with oats), and +then went to the house to ask for "a leetle something hot--mince pie or +sassidge." His request was very modest, but, as a matter of fact, he sat +down and ate a very hearty breakfast, while the boys worked away at the +fire under the big kettle. + +The hired man, under Daddy's direction, drew the bob-sleighs into +position on the sunny side of the corn-crib, and arranged the barrel at +the proper slant while the old man ground his knives, Milton turning the +grindstone--another hateful task, which Daddy's stories could not +alleviate. + +Daddy never finished a story. If he started in to tell about a +horse-trade, it infallibly reminded him of a cattle trade, and talking +of cattle switched him off upon logging, and logging reminded him of +some heavy snow-storms he had known. Each parenthesis outgrew its +proper limits, till he forgot what should have been the main story. His +stories had some compensation, for when he stopped to try to recollect +where he was, the pressure on the grindstone was released. + +At last the water was hot, and the time came to seize the hogs. This was +the old man's great moment. He stood in the pen and shrieked with +laughter while the hired men went rolling, one after the other, upon the +ground, or were bruised against the fence by the rush of the burly +swine. + +"You're a fine lot," he laughed. "Now, then, sir, _grab 'im_! Why don't +ye nail 'im? I vum, sir, if I couldn't do better'n that, sir, I'd sell +out; I would, sir, by gol! Get out o' the way!" + +With a lofty scorn he waved aside all help and stalked like a gladiator +toward the pigs huddled in one corner of the pen. And when the selected +victim was rushing by him, his long arm and great bony hand swept out, +caught him by the ear and flung him upon his side, squealing with +deafening shrillness. But in spite of his smiling concealment of effort, +Daddy had to lean against the fence and catch his breath even while he +boasted: + +"I'm an old codger, sir, but I'm worth--a dozen o' you--spindle-legged +chaps; dum me if I ain't, sir!" + +His pride in his ability to catch and properly kill a hog was as genuine +as the old knight-errant's pride in his ability to stick a knife into +another steel-clothed brigand like himself. When the slain shote was +swung upon the planking on the sled before the barrel, Daddy rested, +while the boys filled the barrel with water from the kettle. + +There was always a weird charm about this stage of the work to the boys. +The sun shone warm and bright in the lee of the corn-crib; the steam +rose up, white and voluminous, from the barrel; the eaves dropped +steadily; the hens ventured near, nervously, but full of curiosity, +while the men laughed and joked with Daddy, starting him off on long +stories, and winking at each other when his back was turned. + +At last he mounted his planking, selecting Mr. Jennings to pull upon the +other handle of the hog-hook. He considered he conferred a distinct +honor in this selection. + +"The time's been, sir, when I wouldn't thank any man for his help. No, +sir, wouldn't thank 'im." + +"What do you do with these things?" asked one of the men, kicking two +iron candlesticks which the old man laid conveniently near. + +"Scrape a hawg with them, sir? What did y' s'pose, you numbskull?" +"Well, I never saw anything"---- + +"You'll have a chance mighty quick, sir. Grab ahold, sir! Swing 'im +around--there! Now easy, easy! Now, then, one, two; one, two--that's +right." + +While he dipped the porker in the water, pulling with his companion +rhythmically upon the hook, he talked incessantly, mixing up scraps of +stories and boastings of what he could do, with commands of what he +wanted the other man to do. + +"The best man I ever worked with. _Now turn 'im, turn 'im!_" he yelled, +reaching over Jennings' wrist. "Grab under my wrist. There! won't ye +never learn how to turn a hawg? _Now, out with 'im!_" was his next wild +yell, as the steaming hog was jerked out of the water upon the planking. +"Now try the hair on them ears! Beautiful scald," he said, clutching his +hand full of bristles and beaming with pride. "Never see anything finer. +Here, Bub, a pail of hot water, quick! Try one of them candlesticks! +They ain't no better scraper than the bottom of an old iron candlestick; +no, sir! Dum your new-fangled scrapers! I made a bet once with old Jake +Ridgeway that I could scrape the hair off'n two hawgs, by gum, quicker'n +he could one. Jake was blowin' about a new scraper he had ... + +"Yes, yes, yes, dump it right into the barrel. Condemmit! Ain't you got +no gumption?... So Sim Smith, he held the watch. Sim was a mighty good +hand t'work with; he was about the only man I ever sawed with who didn't +ride the saw. He could jerk a cross-cut saw.... Now let him in again, +now; _he-ho_, once again! _Roll him over now_; that foreleg needs a tech +o' water. Now out with him again; that's right, that's right! By gol, a +beautiful scald as ever I see!" + +Milton, standing near, caught his eye again. "Clean that ear, sir! What +the devil you standin' there for?" He returned to his story after a +pause. "A--n--d Jake he scraped away--_Hyare_," he shouted, suddenly, +"don't ruggle the skin like that! Can't you see the way I do it? Leave +it smooth as a baby, sir--yessir!" + +He worked on in this way all day, talking unceasingly, never shirking a +hard job, and scarcely showing fatigue at any moment. + +"I'm short o' breath a leetle, that's all; never git tired, but my wind +gives out. Dum cold got on me, too." + +He ate a huge supper of liver and potatoes, still working away hard at +an ancient horse-trade, and when he drove off at night, he had not yet +finished a single one of the dozen stories he had begun. + + + + +III. + + +But pitching grain and hog-killing were on the lower levels of his art, +for above all else Daddy loved to be called upon to play the fiddle for +dances. He "officiated" for the first time at a dance given by one of +the younger McTurgs. They were all fiddlers themselves--had been for +three generations--but they seized the opportunity of helping Daddy and +at the same time of relieving themselves of the trouble of furnishing +the music while the rest danced. + +Milton attended this dance, and saw Daddy for the first time earning his +money pleasantly. From that time on the associations around his +personality were less severe, and they came to like him better. He came +early, with his old fiddle in a time-worn white-pine box. His hair was +neatly combed to the top of his long, narrow head, and his face was very +clean. The boys all greeted him with great pleasure, and asked him where +he would sit. + +"Eight on that table, sir; put a chair up there." + +He took his chair on the kitchen-table as if it were a throne. He wore +huge moccasins of moose-hide on his feet, and for special occasions like +this added a paper collar to his red woolen shirt. He took off his coat +and laid it across his chair for a cushion. It was all very funny to the +young people, but they obeyed him laughingly, and while they "formed +on," he sawed his violin and coaxed it up to concert pitch, and twanged +it and banged it into proper tunefulness. + +"A-a-a-ll-ready there!" he rasped out, with prodigious force. "Everybody +git into his place!" Then, lifting one huge foot, he put the fiddle +under his chin, and, raising his bow till his knuckles touched the +strings, he yelled, "Already, G'LANG!" and brought his foot down with a +startling bang on the first note. _Rye doodle doo, doodle doo._ + +As he went on and the dancers fell into rhythm, the clatter of heavy +boots seemed to thrill him with old-time memories, and he kept +boisterous time with his foot while his high, rasping nasal rang high +above the confusion of tongues and heels and swaying forms. + +"_Ladies_' gran' change! FOUR hands round! _Bal_-ance all! _Elly_-man +left! Back to play-cis." + +His eyes closed in a sort of intoxication of pleasure, but he saw all +that went on in some miraculous way. + +"_First_ lady lead to the right--_toodle rum rum! Gent_ foller after +(step along thar)! Four hands round"---- + +The boys were immensely pleased with him. They delighted in his antics +rather than in his tunes, which were exceedingly few and simple. They +seemed never to be able to get enough of one tune which he called +"Honest John," and which he played in his own way, accompanied by a +chant which he meant, without doubt, to be musical. + +"HON-ers tew your pardners--_tee teedle deedle dee dee dee dee!_ Stand +up straight an' put on your style! _Right_ an' left four"---- + +The hat was passed by the floor-manager during the evening, and Daddy +got nearly three dollars, which delighted Milton very much. + +At supper he insisted on his prerogative, which was to take the +prettiest girl out to supper. + +"Look-a-here, Daddy, ain't that crowdin' the mourners?" objected the +others. + +"What do you mean by that, sir? No, sir! Always done it, in Michigan and +Yark State both; yes, sir." + +He put on his coat ceremoniously, while the tittering girls stood about +the room waiting. He did not delay. His keen eyes had made selection +long before, and, approaching Rose Watson with old-fashioned, elaborate +gallantry, he said: "_May_ I have the pleasure?" and marched out +triumphantly, amidst shouts of laughter. + +His shrill laugh rang high above the rest at the table, as he said: "I'm +the youngest man in this crowd, sir! Demmit, I bet a hat I c'n dance +down any man in this crowd; yes, sir. The old man can do it yet." + +They all took sides in order to please him. + +"I'll bet he can," said Hugh McTurg; "I'll bet a dollar on Daddy." + +"I'll take the bet," said Joe Randall, and with great noise the match +was arranged to come the first thing after supper. + +"All right, sir; any time, sir. I'll let you know the old man is on +earth yet." + +While the girls were putting away the supper dishes, the young man lured +Daddy out into the yard for a wrestling-match, but some of the others +objected. + +"Oh, now, that won't do! If Daddy was a young man"---- + +"What do you mean, sir? I am young enough for you, sir. Just let me get +ahold o' you, sir, and I'll show you, you young rascal! you dem +jackanapes!" he ended, almost shrieking with rage, as he shook his fist +in the face of his grinning tormentors. + +The others held him back with much apparent alarm, and ordered the other +fellows away. + +"There, there, Daddy, I wouldn't mind him! I wouldn't dirty my hands on +him; he ain't worth it. Just come inside, and we'll have that +dancing-match now." + +Daddy reluctantly returned to the house, and, having surrendered his +violin to Hugh McTurg, was ready for the contest. As he stepped into the +middle of the room he was not altogether ludicrous. His rusty trousers +were bagged at the knee, and his red woolen stockings showed between the +tops of his moccasins and his pantaloon-legs; and his coat, utterly +characterless as to color and cut, added to the stoop in his shoulders, +and yet there was a rude sort of grace and a certain dignity about his +bearing which kept down laughter. They were to have a square dance of +the old-fashioned sort. + +"_Farrm_ on," he cried, and the fiddler struck out the first note of the +Virginia Reel. Daddy led out Rose, and the dance began. He straightened +up till his tall form towered above the rest of the boys like a +weather-beaten pine-tree, as he balanced and swung and led and called +off the changes with a voice full of imperious command. + +The fiddler took a malicious delight toward the last in quickening the +time of the good old dance, and that put the old man on his mettle. + +"Go it, ye young rascal!" he yelled. He danced like a boy and yelled +like a demon, catching a laggard here and there, and hurling them into +place like tops, while he kicked and stamped, wound in and out and waved +his hands in the air with a gesture which must have dated back to the +days of Washington. At last, flushed, breathless, but triumphant, he +danced a final break-down to the tune of "Leather Breeches," to show he +was unsubdued. + + + + +IV. + + +But these rare days passed away. As the country grew older it lost the +wholesome simplicity of pioneer days, and Daddy got a chance to play but +seldom. He no longer pleased the boys and girls--his music was too +monotonous and too simple. He felt this very deeply. Once in a while he +broke out to some of the old neighbors in protest against the changes. + +"The boys I used to trot on m' knee are gittin' too high-toned. They +wouldn't be found dead with old Deering, and then the preachers are +gittin' thick, and howlin' agin dancin', and the country's filling up +with Dutchmen, so't I'm left out." + +As a matter of fact, there were few homes now where Daddy could sit on +the table, in his ragged vest and rusty pantaloons, and play "Honest +John," while the boys thumped about the floor. There were few homes +where the old man was even a welcome visitor, and he felt this rejection +keenly. The women got tired of seeing him about, because of his +uncleanly habits of spitting and his tiresome stories. Many of the old +neighbors had died or moved away, and the young people had gone West or +to the cities. Men began to pity him rather than laugh at him, which +hurt him more than their ridicule. They began to favor him at threshing +or at the fall hog-killing. + +"Oh, you're getting old, Daddy; you'll have to give up this heavy work. +Of course, if you feel able to do it, why, all right! Like to have you +do it, but I guess we'll have to have a man to do the heavy lifting, I +s'pose." + +"I s'pose not, sir! I am jest as able to yank a hawg as ever, sir; yes, +sir, demmit--demmit! Do you think I've got one foot in the grave?" + +Nevertheless, Daddy often failed to come to time on appointed days, and +it was painful to hear him trying to explain, trying to make light of it +all. + +"M' caugh wouldn't let me sleep last night. A gol-dum leetle, nasty, +ticklin' caugh, too; but it kept me awake, fact was, an'--well, m' wife, +she said I hadn't better come. But don't you worry, sir; it won't happen +again, sir; no, sir." + +His hands got stiffer year by year, and his simple tunes became +practically a series of squeaks and squalls. There came a time when the +fiddle was laid away almost altogether, for his left hand got caught in +the cog-wheels of the horse-power, and all four of the fingers on that +hand were crushed. Thereafter he could only twang a little on the +strings. It was not long after this that he struck his foot with the ax +and lamed himself for life. + +As he lay groaning in bed, Mr. Jennings went in to see him and tried to +relieve the old man's feelings by telling him the number of times he had +practically cut his feet off, and said he knew it was a terrible hard +thing to put up with. + +"Gol dummit, it ain't the pain," the old sufferer yelled, "it's the dum +awkwardness. I've chopped all my life; I can let an ax in up to the +maker's name, and hew to a hair-line; yes, sir! It was jest them dum new +mittens my wife made; they was s' slippery," he ended, with a groan. + +As a matter of fact, the one accident hinged upon the other. It was the +failure of his left hand, with its useless fingers, to do its duty, that +brought the ax down upon his foot. The pain was not so much physical as +mental. To think that he, who could hew to a hair-line, right and left +hand, should cut his own foot like a ten-year-old boy--that scared him. +It brought age and decay close to him. For the first time in his life he +felt that he was fighting a losing battle. + +A man like this lives so much in the flesh that when his limbs begin to +fail him, everything else seems slipping away. He had gloried in his +strength. He had exulted in the thrill of his life-blood and in the +swell of his vast muscles; he had clung to the idea that he was strong +as ever, till this last blow came upon him, and then he began to think +and to tremble. + +When he was able to crawl about again, he was not the same man. He was +gloomy and morose, snapping and snarling at all that came near him, like +a wounded bear. He was alone a great deal of the time during the winter +following his hurt. Neighbors seldom went in, and for weeks he saw no +one but his hired hand, and the faithful, dumb little old woman, his +wife, who moved about without any apparent concern or sympathy for his +suffering. The hired hand, whenever he called upon the neighbors, or +whenever questions were asked, said that Daddy hung around over the +stove most of the time, paying no attention to any one or anything. "He +ain't dangerous 'tall," he said, meaning that Daddy was not dangerously +ill. + +Milton rode out from school one winter day with Bill, the hand, and was +so much impressed with his story of Daddy's condition that he rode home +with him. He found the old man sitting bent above the stove, wrapped in +a quilt, shivering and muttering to himself. He hardly looked up when +Milton spoke to him, and seemed scarcely to comprehend what he said. + +Milton was much alarmed at the terrible change, for the last time he had +seen him he had towered above him, laughingly threatening to "warm his +jacket," and now here he sat, a great hulk of flesh, his mind flickering +and flaring under every wind of suggestion, soon to go out altogether. + +In reply to questions he only muttered with a trace of his old spirit: +"I'm all right. Jest as good a man as I ever was, only I'm cold. I'll be +all right when spring comes, so 't I c'n git outdoors. Somethin' to warm +me up, yessir; I'm cold, that's all." + +The young fellow sat in awe before him, but the old wife and Bill moved +about the room, taking very little interest in what the old man said or +did. Bill at last took down the violin. "I'll wake him up," he said. +"This always fetches the old feller. Now watch 'im." + +"Oh, don't do that!" Milton said, in horror. But Bill drew the bow +across the strings in the same way that Daddy always did when tuning up. + +He lifted his head as Bill dashed into "Honest John," in spite of +Milton's protest. He trotted his feet after a little and drummed with +his hands on the arms of his chair, then smiled a little in a pitiful +way. Finally he reached out his right hand for the violin and took it +into his lap. He tried to hold the neck with his poor, old, mutilated +left hand and burst into tears. + +"Don't you do that again, Bill," Milton said. "It's better for him to +forget that. Now you take the best care of him you can to-night. I don't +think he's going to live long; I think you ought to go for the doctor +right off." + +"Oh, he's been like this for the last two weeks; he ain't sick, he's +jest old, that's all," replied Bill, brutally. + +And the old lady, moving about without passion and without speech, +seemed to confirm this; and yet Milton was unable to get the picture of +the old man out of his mind. He went home with a great lump in his +throat. + + * * * * * + +The next morning, while they were at breakfast, Bill burst wildly into +the room. + +"Come over there, all of you; we want you." + +They all looked up much scared. "What's the matter, Bill?" + +"Daddy's killed himself," said Bill, and turned to rush back, followed +by Mr. Jennings and Milton. + +While on the way across the field Bill told how it all happened. + +"He wouldn't go to bed, the old lady couldn't make him, and when I got +up this morning I didn't think nothin' about it. I s'posed, of course, +he'd gone to bed all right, but when I was going out to the barn I +stumbled across something in the snow, and I felt around, and there he +was. He got hold of my revolver someway. It was on the shelf by the +washstand, and I s'pose he went out there so't we wouldn't hear him." + +"I dassn't touch him," he said, with a shiver; "and the old woman, she +jest slumped down in a chair an set there--wouldn't do a thing--so I +come over to see you." + +Milton's heart swelled with remorse. He felt guilty because he had not +gone directly for the doctor. To think that the old sufferer had killed +himself was horrible and seemed impossible. + +The wind was blowing the snow, cold and dry, across the yard, but the +sun shone brilliantly upon the figure in the snow as they came up to it. +There Daddy lay. The snow was in his scant hair and in the hollow of his +vast, half-naked chest. A pistol was in his hand, but there was no mark +upon him, and Milton's heart leaped with quick relief. It was delirium, +not suicide. + +There was a sort of majesty in the figure half-buried in the snow. His +hands were clenched, and there was a frown of resolution on his face, as +if he had fancied Death coming and had gone defiantly forth to meet +him. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +PART IX. + +THE SOCIABLE AT DUDLEY'S: DANCING THE "WEEVILY WHEAT." + + "Good night, Lettie!" + "Goodnight, Ben!" + (The moon is sinking at the west.) + "Good night, my sweetheart." Once again + The parting kiss, while comrades wait + Impatient at the roadside gate, + And the red moon sinks beyond the west. + + +THE SOCIABLE AT DUDLEY'S. + +I. + + +John Jennings was not one of those men who go to a donation party with +fifty cents' worth of potatoes and eat and carry away two dollars' worth +of turkey and jelly-cake. When he drove his team around to the front +door for Mrs. Jennings, he had a sack of flour and a quarter of a fine +fat beef in his sleigh and a five-dollar bill in his pocket-book, a +contribution to Elder Wheat's support. + +Milton, his twenty-year-old son, was just driving out of the yard, +seated in a fine new cutter, drawn by a magnificent gray four-year-old +colt. He drew up as Mr. Jennings spoke. + +"Now be sure and don't never leave him a minute untied. And see that the +harness is all right. Do you hear, Milton?" + +"Yes, I hear!" answered the young fellow, rather impatiently, for he +thought himself old enough and big enough to look out for himself. + +"Don't race, will y', Milton?" was his mother's anxious question from +the depth of her shawls. + +"Not if I can help it," was his equivocal response as he chirruped to +Marc Antony. The grand brute made a rearing leap that brought a cry +from the mother and a laugh from the young driver, and swung into the +road at a flying pace. The night was clear and cold, the sleighing +excellent, and the boy's heart was full of exultation. + +It was a joy just to control such a horse as he drew rein over that +night. Large, with the long, lithe body of a tiger and the broad, clear +limbs of an elk, the gray colt strode away up the road, his hoofs +flinging a shower of snow over the dasher. The lines were like steel +rods; the sleigh literally swung by them; the traces hung slack inside +the thills. The bells clashed out a swift clamor; the runners seemed to +hiss over the snow as the duck-breasted cutter swung round the curves +and softly rose and fell along the undulating road. + +On either hand the snow stood billowed against the fences and amid the +wide fields of corn-stalks bleached in the wind. Over in the east, above +the line of timber skirting Cedar Creek, the vast, slightly gibbous moon +was rising, sending along the crusted snow a broad path of light. Other +sleighs could be heard through the still, cold air. Far away a party of +four or five were singing a chorus as they spun along the road. + +Something sweet and unnamable was stirring in the young fellow's brain +as he spun along in the marvelously still and radiant night. He wished +Eileen were with him. The vast and cloudless blue vault of sky +glittered with stars, which even the radiant moon could not dim. Not a +breath of air was stirring save that made by the swift, strong stride of +the horse. + +It was a night for youth and love and bells, and Milton felt this +consciously, and felt it by singing: + + "Stars of the summer night, + Hide in your azure deeps,-- + She sleeps--my lady sleeps." + +He was on his way to get Bettie Moss, one of his old sweethearts, who +had become more deeply concerned with the life of Edwin Blackler. He had +taken the matter with sunny philosophy even before meeting Eileen +Deering at the Seminary, and he was now on his way to bring about peace +between Ed and Bettie, who had lately quarreled. Incidentally he +expected to enjoy the sleigh-ride. + +"Stiddy, boy! Ho, boy! _Stiddy_, old fellow," he called soothingly to +Marc, as he neared the gate and whirled up to the door. A girl came to +the door as he drove up, her head wrapped in a white hood, a shawl on +her arms. She had been waiting for him. + +"Hello, Milt. That you?" + +"It's me. Been waiting?" + +"I should say I had. Begun t' think you'd gone back on me. Everybody +else's gone." + +"Well! Hop in here before you freeze; we'll not be the last ones there. +Yes, bring the shawl; you'll need it t' keep the snow off your face," +he called, authoritatively. + +"'Tain't snowin', is it?" she asked as she shut the door and came to the +sleigh's side. + +"Clear as a bell," he said as he helped her in. + +"Then where'll the snow come from?" + +"From Marc's heels." + +"Goodness sakes! you don't expect me t' ride after _that_ wild-headed +critter, do you?" + +His answer was a chirp which sent Marc half-way to the gate before +Bettie could catch her breath. The reins stiffened in his hands. Bettie +clung to him, shrieking at every turn in the road. "Milton Jennings, if +you tip us over, I'll"---- + +Milton laughed, drew the colt down to a steady, swift stride, and Bettie +put her hands back under the robe. + +"I wonder who that is ahead?" he asked after a few minutes, which +brought them in sound of bells. + +"I guess it's Cy Hurd; it sounded like his bells when he went past. I +guess it's him and Bill an' Belle an' Cad Hines." + +"Expect to see Ed there?" asked Milton after a little pause. + +"I don't care whether I ever see him again or not," she snapped. + +"Oh, yes, you do!" he answered, feeling somehow her insincerity. + +"Well--I don't!" + +Milton didn't care to push the peace-making any further. However, he had +curiosity enough to ask, "What upset things 'tween you 'n Ed?" + +"Oh, nothing." + +"You mean none o' my business?" + +"I didn't say so." + +"No, you didn't need to," he laughed, and she joined in. + +"Yes, that's Cy Hurd. I know that laugh of his far's I c'n hear it," +said Bottie as they jingled along. "I wonder who's with him?" + +"We'll mighty soon see," said Milton, as he wound the lines around his +hands and braced his feet, giving a low whistle, which seemed to run +through the colt's blood like fire. His stride did not increase in rate, +but its reach grew majestic as he seemed to lengthen and lower. His +broad feet flung great disks of hard-packed snow over the dasher, and +under the clash of his bells the noise of the other team grew plainer. + +"Get out of the way," sang Milton, as he approached the other team. +There was challenge and exultation in his tone. + +"Hello! In a hurry?" shouted those in front, without increasing their +own pace. + +"Ya-as, something of a hurry," drawled Milton in a disguised voice. + +"Wa-al? Turn out an' go by if you are." + +"No, thankee, I'll just let m' nag nibble the hay out o' your box an' +take it easy." + +"Sure o' that?" + +"You bet high I am." Milton nudged Bettie, who was laughing with +delight. "It's Bill an' his bays. He thinks there isn't a team in the +country can keep up with him. Get out o' the way there!" he shouted +again. "I'm in a hurry." + +"Let 'em out! Let 'em out, Bill," they heard Cy say, and the bays sprang +forward along the level road, the bells ringing like mad, the snow +flying, the girls screaming at every lurch of the sleighs. But Marc's +head still shook haughtily above the end-gate; still the foam from his +lips fell upon the hay in the box ahead. + +"Git out o' this! Yip!" yelled Bill to his bays, but Marc merely made a +lunging leap and tugged at the lines as if asking for more liberty. +Milton gave him his head and laughed to see the great limbs rise and +fall like the pistons of an engine. They swept over the weeds like a +hawk skimming the stubble of a wheat field. + +"Get out o' the way or I'll run right over your back," yelled Milton +again. + +"Try it," was the reply. + +"Grab hold of me, Bettie, and lean to the right. When we turn this +corner I'm going to take the inside track and pass 'em." + +"You'll tip us over"---- + +"No, I won't! Do as I tell you." + +They were nearing a wide corner, where the road turned to the right and +bore due south through the woods. Milton caught sight of the turn, gave +a quick twist of the lines around his hands, leaned over the dasher and +spoke shrilly: + +"Git out o' this, Marc!" + +The splendid brute swerved to the right and made a leap that seemed to +lift the sleigh and all into the air. The snow flew in such stinging +showers Milton could see nothing. The sleigh was on one runner, heeling +like a yacht in a gale; the girl was clinging to his neck; he could hear +the bells of the other sleigh to his left; Marc was passing them; he +heard shouts and the swish of a whip. Another convulsive effort of the +gray, and then Milton found himself in the road again, in the moonlight, +where the apparently unwearied horse, with head out-thrust, nostril +wide-blown and body squared, was trotting like a veteran on the track. +The team was behind. + +"Stiddy, boy!" + +Milton soothed Marc down to a long, easy pace; then turned to Bettie, +who had uncovered her face again. + +"How d' y' like it?" + +"My sakes! I don't want any more of that. If I'd 'a' known you was goin' +t' drive like that I wouldn't 'a' come. You're worse'n Ed. I expected +every minute we'd be down in the ditch. But, oh! ain't he jest +splendint?" she added, in admiration of the horse. + +"Don't y' want to drive him?" + +"Oh, yes; let me try. I drive our teams." + +She took the lines, and at Milton's suggestion wound them around her +hands. She looked very pretty with the moon shining on her face, her +eyes big and black with excitement, and Milton immediately put his arm +around her and laid his head on her shoulder. "Milton Jennings, you +don't"---- + +"Look out," he cried in mock alarm, "don't you drop those lines!" He +gave her a severe hug. + +"Milton Jennings, you let go me!" + +"That's what you said before." + +"Take these lines." + +"Can't do it," he laughed; my hands are cold. Got to warm them, see?" He +pulled off his mitten and put his icy hand under her chin. The horse was +going at a tremendous pace again. + +"O-o-o-oh! If you don't take these lines I'll drop 'em, so there!" + +"Don't y' do it," he called warningly, but she did, and boxed his ears +soundly while he was getting Marc in hand again. Bettie's rage was +fleeting as the blown breath from Marc's nostrils, and when Milton +turned to her again all was as if his deportment had been grave and +cavalier. + +The stinging air made itself felt, and they drew close under their huge +buffalo robes as Marc strode steadily forward. The dark groves fell +behind, the clashing bells marked the rods and miles and kept time to +the songs they hummed. + + "Jingle, bells! Jingle, bells! + Jingle all the way. + Oh, what joy it is to ride + In a one-horse open sleigh." + +They overtook another laughing, singing load of young folks--a great +wood sleigh packed full with boys and girls, two and two--hooded girls, +and boys with caps drawn down over their ears. A babel of tongues arose +from the sweeping, creaking bob-sleigh, and rose into the silent air +like a mighty peal of laughter. + + + + +II. + + +A school-house set beneath the shelter of great oaks was the center of +motion and sound. On one side of it the teams stood shaking their bells +under their insufficient blankets, making a soft chorus of fitful trills +heard in the pauses of the merry shrieks of the boys playing "pom-pom +pullaway" across the road before the house, which radiated light and +laughter. A group of young men stood on the porch as Milton drove up. + +"Hello, Milt," said a familiar voice as he reined Marc close to the +step. + +"That you, Shep?" + +"Chuss, it's me," replied Shep. + +"How'd you know me so far off?" + +"Puh! Don't y' s'pose I know that horse an' those bells--Miss Moss, +allow me"---- He helped her out with elaborate courtesy. "The supper and +the old folks are _here_, and the girls and boys and the fun is over to +Dudley's," he explained as he helped Bettie out. + +"I'll be back soon's I put my horse up," said Milton to Bettie. "You go +in and get good 'n' warm, and then we'll go over to the house." + +"I saved a place in the barn for you, Milt. I knew you'd never let Marc +stand out in the snow," said Shephard as he sprang in beside Milton. + +"I knew you would. What's the news? Is Ed here t'night?" + +"Yeh-up. On deck with S'fye Kinney. It'll make him _swear_ when he finds +out who Bettie come with." + +"Let him. Are the Yohe boys here?" + +"Yep. They're alwiss on hand, like a sore thumb. Bill's been drinking, +and is likely to give Ed trouble. He never'll give Bettie up without a +fight. Look out he don't jump onto _your_ neck." + +"No danger o' that," said Milton coolly. + +The Yohe boys were strangers in the neighborhood. They had come in with +the wave of harvest help from the South and had stayed on into the +winter, making few friends and a large number of enemies among the young +men of "the crick." Everybody admitted that they had metal in them, for +they instantly paid court to the prettiest girls in the neighborhood, +without regard to any prior claims. + +And the girls were attracted by these Missourians, their air of +mysterious wickedness and their muscular swagger, precisely as a flock +of barnyard fowl are interested in the strange bird thrust among them. + +But the Southerners had muscles like wild-cats, and their feats of broil +and battle commanded a certain respectful consideration. In fact, most +of the young men of the district were afraid of the red-faced, bold-eyed +strangers, one of the few exceptions being Milton, and another Shephard +Watson, his friend and room-mate at the Rock River Seminary. Neither of +these boys being at all athletic, it was rather curious that Bill and +Joe Yohe should treat them with so much consideration. + +Bill was standing before the huge cannon stove, talking with Bettie, +when Milton and Shephard returned to the school-house. The man's hard, +black eyes were filled with a baleful fire, and his wolfish teeth shone +through his long red mustache. It made Milton mutter under his breath +to see how innocently Bettie laughed with him. She never dreamed and +could not have comprehended the vileness of the man's whole life and +thought. No lizard reveled in the mud more hideously than he. His +conversation reeked with obscenity. His tongue dropped poison each +moment when among his own sex, and his eye blazed it forth when in the +presence of women. + +"Hello, Bill," said Milton, with easy indifference. "How goes it?" + +"Oh, 'bout so-so. You rather got ahead o' me t'night, didn't yeh?" + +"Well, rather. The man that gets ahead o' me has got t' drive a good +team, eh?" He looked at Bettie. + +"I'd like to try it," said Bill. + +"Well, let's go across the road," said Milton to Bettie, anxious to get +her out of the way of Bill. + +They had to run the gauntlet of the whooping boys outside, but Bettie +proved too fleet of foot for them all. + +When they entered the Dudley house opposite, her cheeks were hot with +color, but the roguish gleam in her eyes changed to a curiously haughty +and disdainful look as she passed Blackler, who stood desolately beside +the door, looking awkward and sullen. + +Milton was a great favorite, and he had no time to say anything more to +Bettie as peace-maker. He reached Ed as soon as possible. + +"Ed, what's up between you and Bettie?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I can't find out," Blackler replied, and he spurred +himself desperately into the fun. + + + + +III. + + +"It'll make Ed Blackler squirm t' see Betsey come in on Milt Jennings' +arm," said Bill to Shephard after Milton went out. + +"Wal, chuss. I denk it will." Shephard was looking round the room, where +the old people were noisily eating supper, and the steaming oysters and +the cold chicken's savory smell went to his heart. One of the motherly +managers of the feast bustled up to him. + +"Shephard, you c'n run over t' the house an' tell the young folks that +they can come over t' supper about eight o'clock; that'll be in a half +an hour. You understand?" + +"Oh, I'm so hungry! Can't y' give me a hunk o' chicken t' stay m' +stomach?" + +Mrs. Councill laughed. "I'll fish you out a drumstick," she said. And he +went away, gnawing upon it hungrily. Bill went with him, still belching +forth against Blackler. + +"Jim said he heard _he_ said he'd slap my face f'r a cent. I wish he +would. I'd lick the life out of 'im in a minnit." + +"Why don't you pitch into Milt? He's got her now. He's the one y'd orto +be dammin'." + +"Oh, he don't mean nothin' by it. He don't care for her. I saw him down +to town at the show with the girl he's after. He's jest makin' Ed mad." + +A game of "Copenhagen" was going on as they entered. Bettie was in the +midst of it, but Milton, in the corner, was looking on and talking with +a group of those who had outgrown such games. + +The ring of noisy, flushed and laughter-intoxicated young people filled +the room nearly to the wall, and round and round the ring flew Bettie, +pursued by Joe Yohe. + +"Go it, Joe!" yelled Bill. + +"You're good f'r'im," yelled Shephard. + +Milton laughed and clapped his hands. "Hot foot, Bettie!" + +Like another Atalanta, the superb young girl sped, now dodging through +the ring, now doubling as her pursuer tried to catch her by turning +back. At last she made the third circuit, and, breathless and laughing, +took her place in the line. But Joe rushed upon her, determined to steal +a kiss anyhow. + +"H'yare! H'yare! None o' that." + +"That's no fair," cried the rest, and he was caught by a dozen hands. + +"She didn't go round three times," he said. + +"Yes, she did," cried a dozen voices. + +"You shut up," he retorted, brutally, looking at Ed Blackler, who had +not spoken at all. Ed glared back, but said nothing. Bettie ignored Ed, +and the game went on. + +"There's going to be trouble here to-night," said Milton to Shephard. + +Shephard, as the ring dissolved, stepped into the middle of the room and +flourished his chicken-leg as if it were a baton. After the burst of +laughter, his sonorous voice made itself heard. + +"Come to supper! Everybody take his girl if he can, and if he can't--get +the other feller's girl." + +Bill Yohe sprang toward Bettie, but Milton had touched her on the arm. + +"Not t'night, Bill," he grinned. + +Bill grinned in reply and made off toward another well-known belle, Ella +Pratt, who accepted his escort. Ed Blackler, with gloomy desperation, +took Maud Buttles, the most depressingly plain girl in the room, an +action that did not escape Bettie's eyes, and which softened her heart +toward him; but she did not let him see it. + +Supper was served on the desks, each couple seated in the drab-colored +wooden seats as if they were at school. A very comfortable arrangement +for those who occupied the back seats, but torture to the adults who +were obliged to cramp their legs inside the desk where the primer class +sat on school-days. + +Bettie saw with tenderness how devotedly poor Ed served Maud. He could +not have taken a better method of heaping coals of fire on her head. + +Ed was entirely unconscious of her softening, however, for he could not +look around from where he sat. He heard her laughing and believed she +was happy. He had not taken poor Maud for the purpose of showing his +penitence, for he had no such feeling in his heart; he was, on the +contrary, rather gloomy and reckless. He was not in a mood to show a +front of indifference. + +The oysters steamed; the heels of the boys' boots thumped in wild +delight; the women bustled about; the girls giggled, and the men roared +with laughter. Everybody ate as if he and she had never tasted +oyster-soup and chicken before, and the cakes and pies went the way of +the oyster-soup like corn before a troup of winter turkeys. + +Bill Yohe, by way of a joke, put some frosting down the back of Cy Hurd, +and, by way of delicate attention to Ella, alternately shoved her out of +the seat and pulled her back again, while Joe hurled a chicken-leg at +Cad Hines as she stood in the entry-way. Will Kinney told Sary Hines +for the fourth time how his team had run away, interrupted by his fear +that some kind of pie would get away untasted. + +"An' so I laid the lines down--H'yare! Gimme another handful of +crackers, Merry--an' I laid the lines down while I went t' fine--nary a +noyster I can hold any more. Mrs. Moss, I'm ready f'r pie now--an' so I +noticed ole Frank's eye kind o' roll, but thinksi, I c'n git holt o' the +lines if he--Yes'm, I alwiss eat mince; won't you try some, +Sary?--an'--an'--so, jest as I gut my ax--You bet! I'm goin' t' try a +piece of every kind if it busts my stummick. Gutta git my money's +worth." + +Milton was in his best mood and was very attractive in his mirth. His +fine teeth shone and his yellow curls shook under the stress of his +laughter. He wrestled with Bettie for the choice bits of cake, +delighting in the touch of her firm, sweet flesh; and, as for Bettie, +she was almost charmed to oblivion of Ed by the superior attractions of +Milton's town-bred gallantry. Ed looked singularly awkward and lonesome +as he sat sprawled out in one of the low seats, and curiously enough his +uncouthness and disconsolateness of attitude won her heart back again. + +Everybody, with the usual rustic freedom, had remarks to make upon the +situation. + +"Wal, Bettie, made a swop, hev yeh?" said Councill. + +"Hello, Milt; thought you had a girl down town." + +"Oh, I keep one at each end of the line," Milton replied, with his ready +laugh. + +"Wal, I swan t' gudgeon! I can't keep track o' you town fellers. You're +too many f'r me!" said Mrs. Councill. + +Carrie Hines came up behind Milton and Bettie and put her arms around +their necks, bringing their cheeks together. Bettie grew purple with +anger and embarrassment, but Milton, with his usual readiness, said, +"Thank you," and reached for the tittering malefactor's waist. Nobody +noticed it, for the room was full of such romping. + +The men were standing around the stove discussing political outlooks, +and the matrons were busy with the serving of the supper. Out of doors +the indefatigable boys were beginning again on "pom-pom pullaway." + +Supper over, the young folks all returned to the house across the way, +leaving the men of elderly blood to talk on the Grange and the +uselessness of the middlemen. Sport began again in the Dudley farm-house +by a dozen or so of the young people "forming on" for "Weevily Wheat." + +"Weevily Wheat" was a "donation dance." As it would have been wicked to +have a fiddle to play the music, singers were substituted with stirring +effect, and a song was sung, while the couples bowed and balanced and +swung in rhythm to it: + + "Come _hither_, my love, and _trip_ together + In the morning early. + I'll give to _you_ the parting hand, + Although I love you dearly. + But I _won't_ have none of y'r weevily wheat, + An' I _won't_ have _none_ of y'r barley, + But have some flour in a half an hour + To bake a cake for Charley. + + "Oh, Charley, _he_ is a fine young man; + Charley, he is a dandy. + Oh, Charley, _he's_ a fine young man, + F'r he buys the girls some candy. + Oh, I _won't_ have none o' y'r weevily wheat, + I won't have _none_ o' y'r barley, + But have some flour in a half an hour + To bake a cake for Charley. + + "Oh, Charley, he's," etc. + +Milton was soon in the thick of this most charming old-fashioned dance, +which probably dates back to dances on the green in England or Norway. +Bettie was a good dancer, and as she grew excited with the rhythm and +swing of the quaint, plaintive music her form grew supple at the waist +and her large limbs light. The pair moved up and back between the two +ranks of singers, then down the outside, and laughed in glee when they +accelerated the pace at the time when they were swinging down the +center. All faces were aglow and eyes shining. + +Bill's red face and bullet eyes were not beautiful, but the grace and +power of his body were unmistakable. He was excited by the music, the +alcohol he had been drinking, and by the presence of the girls, and +threw himself into the play with dangerous abandon. + +Under his ill-fitting coat his muscles rolled swift and silent. His tall +boots were brilliantly blue and starred with gold at the top, and his +pantaloons were tucked inside the tops to let their glory strike the +eye. His physical strength and grace and variety of "steps" called forth +many smiles and admiring exclamations from the girls, and caused the +young men to lose interest in "Weevily Wheat." + +When a new set was called for, Bill made a determined assault on Bettie +and secured her, for she did not have the firmness to refuse. But the +singers grew weary, and the set soon broke up. A game of forfeit was +substituted. This also dwindled down to a mere excuse for lovers to kiss +each other, and the whole company soon separated into little groups to +chatter and romp. Some few sat at the table in the parlor and played +"authors." + +Bettie was becoming annoyed by the attentions of Bill, and, to get rid +of him, went with Miss Lytle, Milton and two or three others into +another room and shut the door. This was not very unusual, but poor +Blackler seemed to feel it a direct affront to him and was embittered. +He was sitting by Ella Pratt when Bill Yohe swaggered up to him. + +"Say! Do you know where your girl is?" + +"No, an' I don't care." + +"Wal! It's _time_ y'cared. She's in the other room there. Milt Jennings +has cut you out." + +"You're a liar," cried the loyal lover, leaping to his feet. + +_Spat!_ Yohe's open palm resounded upon the pale face of Blackler, whose +eyes had a wild glare in them, and the next moment they were rolling on +the floor like a couple of dogs, the stronger and older man above, the +valiant lover below. The house resounded with sudden screams, and then +came the hurry of feet, then a hush, in the midst of which was heard the +unsubdued voice of Blackler as he rose to his feet. "You're a"---- + +Another dull stroke with the knotted fist, and the young fellow went to +the floor again, while Joe Yohe, like a wild beast roused at the sight +of blood, stood above the form of his brother (who had leaped upon the +fallen man), shouting with the hoarse, raucous note of a tiger: + +"Give 'im hell! I'll back yeh." + +Bettie pushed through the ring of men and women who were looking on in +delicious horror--pushed through quickly and yet with dignity. Her head +was thrown back, and the strange look on her face was thrilling. Facing +the angry men with a gesture of superb scorn and fearlessness, she +spoke, and in the deep hush her quiet words were strangely impressive: + +"Bill Yohe, what do you think you're doing?" + +For a moment the men were abashed, and, starting back, they allowed +Blackler, dazed, bleeding and half strangled, to rise to his feet. He +would have sprung against them both, for he had not heard or realized +who was speaking, but Bettie laid her hand on his arm, and the haughty +droop of her eyelids changed as she said in a tender voice: + +"Never mind, Ed; they ain't worth mindin'!" + +Her usual self came back quickly as she led him away. Friends began to +mutter now, and the swagger of the brothers threatened further trouble. +Their eyes rolled, their knotted hands swung about like bludgeons. +Threats, horrible snarls and oaths poured from their lips. But there +were heard at this critical moment rapid footsteps--a round, jovial +voice--and bursting through the door came the great form and golden head +of Lime Gilman." + +"Hold on here! What's all this?" he said, leaping with an ominously +good-natured smile into the open space before the two men, whose +restless pacing stopped at the sound of his voice. His sunny, laughing +blue eyes swept around him, taking in the situation at a glance. He +continued to smile, but his teeth came together. + +"Git out o' this, you hounds! Git!" he said, in the same jovial tone. +"You! _You_," he said to Bill, slapping him lightly on the breast with +the back of his lax fingers. Bill struck at him ferociously, but the +slope-shouldered giant sent it by with his left wrist, kicking the feet +of the striker from under him with a frightful swing of his right +foot--a trick which appalled Joe. + +"Clear the track there," ordered Lime. "It's against the law t' fight at +a donation; so out y' go." + +Bill crawled painfully to his feet. + +"I'll pay you for this yet." + +"_Any_ time but now. Git out, 'r I'll kick you out." Lime's voice +changed now. The silent crowd made way for them, and, seizing Joe by the +shoulder and pushing Bill before him, the giant passed out into the open +air. There he pushed Bill off the porch into the snow, and kicked his +brother over him with this parting word: + +"You infernal hyenies! Kickin's too good f'r you. If you ever want me, +look around an' you'll find me." + +Then, to the spectators who thronged after, he apologized: + +"I hate t' fight, and especially to kick a man; but they's times when a +man's _got_ t' do it. Now, jest go back and have a good time. Don't let +them hyenies spoil all y'r fun." + +That ended it. All knew Lime. Everybody had heard how he could lift one +end of the separator and toss a two-bushel sack filled with wheat over +the hind wheel of a wagon, and the terror of his kick was not unknown to +them. They all felt sure that the Yohes would not return, and all went +back into the house and attempted to go on with the games. But it was +impossible; such exciting events must be discussed, and the story was +told and retold by each one. + +When Milton returned to the parlor, he saw Bettie, tender, dignified and +grave, bending over Blackler, bathing his bruised face. Milton had never +admired her more than at that moment; she looked so womanly. She no +longer cared what people thought. + +The other girls, pale and tearful and a little hysterical, stood about, +close to their sweethearts. They enjoyed the excitement, however, and +the fight appealed to something organic in them. + +The donation party was at an end, that was clear, and the people began +to get ready to go home. Bettie started to thank Lyman for his help. + +"Don't say anything. I'd 'a' done it jest the same f'r anybody. It ain't +the thing to come to a donation and git up a row." + +Milton hardly knew whether to ask Bettie to go back with him or not, but +Blackler relieved him from embarrassment by rousing up and saying: + +"Oh, I'm all right now, Bettie. Hyere's yer girl, Milt. See the eye I've +got on me? She says she won't ride home with any such"---- + +"Ed, what in the world do you mean?" Bettie could hardly understand her +lover's sudden exultation; it was still a very serious matter to her, in +spite of the complete reconciliation which had come with the assault. +She felt in a degree guilty, and that feeling kept her still tearful and +subdued, but Ed leered and winked with his good eye in uncontrollable +delight. Milton turned to Bettie at last, and said: + +"Well! I'll get Marc around to the door in a few minutes. Get your +things on." + +Bettie and Ed stood close together by the door. She was saying: + +"You'll forgive me, won't you, Ed?" + +"Why, course I will, Bettie. I was as much to blame as you was. I no +business to git mad till I knew what I was gittin' mad _at_." + +They were very tender now. + +"I'll--I'll go home with you, if you want me to, 'stead of with Milt," +she quavered. + +"No, I've got to take S'fye home. It's the square thing." + +"All right, Ed, but come an' let me talk it all straight." + +"It's all straight now; let's let it all go, whaddy y'say?" + +"All right, Ed." + +There was a kiss that the rest pretended not to hear. And bidding them +all good-night, Bettie ran out to the fence, where Milton sat waiting. + +The moon was riding high in the clear, cold sky, but falling toward the +west, as they swung into the wood-road. Through the branches of the oaks +the stars, set in the deep-blue, fathomless night, peered cold and +bright. There was no wind save the rush of air caused by the motion of +the sleigh. Neither of the young people spoke for some time. They lay +back in the sleigh under the thick robes, listening to the chime of the +bells, the squeal of the runners, and the weirdly-sweet distant singing +of another sleigh-load of young people far ahead. + +Milton pulled Marc down to a slow trot, and, tightening his arm around +Bettie's shoulders in a very brotherly hug, said: + +"Well, I'm glad you and Ed have fixed things up again. You'd always have +been sorry." + +"It was all my fault anyway," replied the girl, with a little tremor in +her voice, "and it was all my fault to-night, too. I no business to 'a' +gone off an' left him that way." + +"Well, it's all over now anyway, and so I wouldn't worry any more about +it," said Milton, soothingly, and then they fell into silence again. + +The sagacious Marc Antony strode steadily away, and the two young lovers +went on with their dreaming. Bettie was silent mainly, and Milton was +trying to fancy that she was Eileen, and was remembering the long rides +they had had together. And the horse's hoofs beat a steady rhythm, the +moon fell to the west, and the bells kept cheery chime. The breath of +the horse rose into the air like steam. The house-dogs sent forth +warning howls as they went by. Once or twice they passed houses where +the windows were still lighted and where lanterns were flashing around +the barn, where the horses were being put in for the night. + +The lights were out at the home of Bettie when they drove up, for the +young people, however rapidly they might go to the sociable, always +returned much slower than the old folks. Milton leaped out and held up +his arms to help his companion out. As she shook the robes down, stood +up and reached out for his arms, he seized her round the waist, and, +holding her clear of the ground, kissed her in spite of her struggles. + +"Milton!" + +"The las' time, Bettie; the las' time," he said, in extenuation. With +this mournful word on his lips he leaped into the sleigh and was off +like the wind. But the listening girl heard his merry voice ringing out +on the still air. Suddenly something sweet and majestic swept upon the +girl. Something that made her look up into the glittering sky with vast +yearning. In the awful hush of the sky and the plain she heard the beat +of her own blood in her ears. She longed for song to express the +swelling of her throat and the wistful ache of her heart. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +AN AFTERWORD: OF WINDS, SNOWS AND THE STARS.... + + + O witchery of the winter night + (With broad moon shouldering to the west)! + + In city streets the west wind sweeps + Before my feet in rustling flight; + The midnight snows in untracked heaps + Lie cold and desolate and white. + I stand and wait with upturned eyes, + Awed with the splendor of the skies + And star-trained progress of the moon. + + The city walls dissolve like smoke + Beneath the magic of the moon, + And age falls from me like a cloak; + I hear sweet girlish voices ring, + Clear as some softly stricken string-- + (The moon is sailing to the west.) + The sleigh-bells clash in homeward flight; + With frost each horse's breast is white-- + (The big moon sinking to the west.) + + * * * * * + + "Good night, Lettie!" + "Good night, Ben!" + (The moon is sinking at the west.) + "Good night, my sweetheart," Once again + The parting kiss while comrades wait + Impatient at the roadside gate, + And the red moon sinks beyond the west. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prairie Folks, by Hamlin Garland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRAIRIE FOLKS *** + +***** This file should be named 20697.txt or 20697.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/9/20697/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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