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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c8c5125 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51925 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51925) diff --git a/old/51925-0.txt b/old/51925-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d3a3a79..0000000 --- a/old/51925-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8548 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Danny's Own Story, by Don Marquis - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Danny's Own Story - -Author: Don Marquis - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51925] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANNY'S OWN STORY *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - -DANNY'S OWN STORY - -By Don Marquis - - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0010] - -[Illustration: 0011] - - - -TO - - -MY WIFE - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -HOW I come not to have a last name is a question that has always had -more or less aggervation mixed up with it. I might of had one jest -as well as not if Old Hank Walters hadn't been so all-fired, infernal -bull-headed about things in gineral, and his wife Elmira a blame sight -worse, and both of em ready to row at a minute's notice and stick to it -forevermore. - -Hank, he was considerable of a lusher. One Saturday night, when he come -home from the village in his usual fix, he stumbled over a basket that -was setting on his front steps. Then he got up and drawed back his foot -unsteady to kick it plumb into kingdom come. Jest then he hearn Elmira -opening the door behind him, and he turned his head sudden. But the kick -was already started into the air, and when he turns he can't stop it. -And so Hank gets twisted and falls down and steps on himself. That -basket lets out a yowl. - -“It's kittens,” says Hank, still setting down and staring at that there -basket. All of which, you understand, I am a-telling you from hearsay, -as the lawyers always asts you in court. - -Elmira, she sings out: - -“Kittens, nothing! It's a baby!” - -And she opens the basket and looks in and it was me. - -“Hennerey Walters,” she says--picking me up, and shaking me at him like -I was a crime, “Hennerey Walters, where did you get this here baby?” She -always calls him Hennerey when she is getting ready to give him fits. - -Hank, he scratches his head, for he's kind o' confuddled, and thinks -mebby he really has brought this basket with him. He tries to think of -all the places he has been that night. But he can't think of any place -but Bill Nolan's saloon. So he says: - -“Elmira, honest, I ain't had but one drink all day.” And then he kind o' -rouses up a little bit, and gets surprised and says: - -“That a _baby_ you got there, Elmira?” And then he says, dignified: “So -fur as that's consarned, Elmira, where did _you_ get that there baby?” - -She looks at him, and she sees he don't really know where I come from. -Old Hank mostly was truthful when lickered up, fur that matter, and she -knowed it, fur he couldn't think up no lies excepting a gineral denial -when intoxicated up to the gills. - -Elmira looks into the basket. They was one of them long rubber tubes -stringing out of a bottle that was in it, and I had been sucking that -bottle when interrupted. And they wasn't nothing else in that basket but -a big thick shawl which had been wrapped all around me, and Elmira -often wore it to meeting afterward. She goes inside and she looks at -the bottle and me by the light, and Old Hank, he comes stumbling in -afterward and sets down in a chair and waits to get Hail Columbia for -coming home in that shape, so's he can row back agin, like they done -every Saturday night. - -Blowed in the glass of the bottle was the name: “Daniel, Dunne and -Company.” Anybody but them two old ignoramuses could of told right off -that that didn't have nothing to do with me, but was jest the company -that made them kind of bottles. But she reads it out loud three or four -times, and then she says: - -“His name is Daniel Dunne,” she says. - -“And Company,” says Hank, feeling right quarrelsome. - -“_Company_ hain't no name,” says she. - -“_Why_ hain't it, I'd like to know?” says Hank. “I knowed a man oncet -whose name was Farmer, and if a farmer's a name why ain't a company a -name too?” - -“His name is Daniel Dunne,” says Elmira, quietlike, but not dodging a -row, neither. - -“_And company_,” says Hank, getting onto his feet, like he always done -when he seen trouble coming. When Old Hank was full of licker he knowed -jest the ways to aggervate her the worst. - -She might of banged him one the same as usual, and got her own eye -blacked also, the same as usual; but jest then I lets out another big -yowl, and she give me some milk. - -I guess the only reason they ever kep' me at first was so they could -quarrel about my name. They'd lived together a good many years and -quarrelled about everything else under the sun, and was running out of -subjects. A new subject kind o' briskened things up fur a while. - -But finally they went too far with it one time. I was about two years -old then and he was still calling me Company and her calling me Dunne. -This time he hits her a lick that lays her out and likes to kill her, -and it gets him scared. But she gets around agin after a while, and they -both see it has went too fur that time, and so they makes up. - -“Elmira, I give in,” says Hank. “His name is Dunne.” - -“No,” says she, tender-like, “you was right, Hank. His name is Company.” - So they pretty near got into another row over that. But they finally -made it up between em I didn't have no last name, and they'd jest call -me Danny. Which they both done faithful ever after, as agreed. - -Old Hank, he was a blacksmith, and he used to lamm me considerable, him -and his wife not having any kids of their own to lick. He lammed me when -he was drunk, and he whaled me when he was sober. I never helt it up -agin him much, neither, not fur a good many years, because he got me -used to it young, and I hadn't never knowed nothing else. Hank's wife, -Elmira, she used to lick him jest about as often as he licked her, and -boss him jest as much. So he fell back on me. A man has jest naturally -got to have something to cuss around and boss, so's to keep himself -from finding out he don't amount to nothing. Leastways, most men is like -that. And Hank, he didn't amount to much; and he kind o' knowed it, way -down deep in his inmost gizzards, and it were a comfort to him to have -me around. - -But they was one thing he never sot no store by, and I got along now to -where I hold that up agin him more'n all the lickings he ever done. That -was book learning. He never had none himself, and he was sot agin it, -and he never made me get none, and if I'd ever asted him for any he'd -of whaled me fur that. Hank's wife, Elmira, had married beneath her, and -everybody in our town had come to see it, and used to sympathize with -her about it when Hank wasn't around. She'd tell em, yes, it was so. -Back in Elmira, New York, from which her father and mother come to our -part of Illinoise in the early days, her father had kep' a hotel, -and they was stylish kind o' folks. When she was born her mother was -homesick fur all that style and fur York State ways, and so she named -her Elmira. - -But when she married Hank, he had considerable land. His father had left -it to him, but it was all swamp land, and so Hank's father, he hunted -more'n he farmed, and Hank and his brothers done the same when he was a -boy. But Hank, he learnt a little blacksmithing when he was growing up, -cause he liked to tinker around and to show how stout he was. Then, -when he married Elmira Appleton, he had to go to work practising that -perfession reg'lar, because he never learnt nothing about farming. He'd -sell fifteen or twenty acres, every now and then, and they'd be high -times till he'd spent it up, and mebby Elmira would get some new -clothes. - -But when I was found on the door step, the land was all gone, and Hank -was practising reg'lar, when not busy cussing out the fellers that had -bought the land. Fur some smart fellers had come along, and bought up -all that swamp land and dreened it, and now it was worth seventy or -eighty dollars an acre. Hank, he figgered some one had cheated him. -Which the Walterses could of dreened theirn too, only they'd ruther -hunt ducks and have fish frys than to dig ditches. All of which I hearn -Elmira talking over with the neighbours more'n once when I was growing -up, and they all says: “How sad it is you have came to this, Elmira!” - And then she'd kind o' spunk up and say, thanks to glory, she'd kep' her -pride. - -Well, they was worse places to live in than that there little town, even -if they wasn't no railroad within eight miles, and only three hundred -soles in the hull copperation. Which Hank's shop and our house set in -the edge of the woods jest outside the copperation line, so's the city -marshal didn't have no authority to arrest him after he crossed it. - -They was one thing in that house I always admired when I was a kid. And -that was a big cistern. Most people has their cisterns outside their -house, and they is a tin pipe takes all the rain water off the roof and -scoots it into them. Ourn worked the same, but our cistern was right in -under our kitchen floor, and they was a trap door with leather hinges -opened into it right by the kitchen stove. But that wasn't why I was -so proud of it. It was because that cistern was jest plumb full of -fish--bullheads and red horse and sunfish and other kinds. - -Hank's father had built that cistern. And one time he brung home some -live fish in a bucket and dumped em in there. And they growed. And they -multiplied in there and refurnished the earth. So that cistern had got -to be a fambly custom, which was kep' up in that fambly for a habit. -It was a great comfort to Hank, fur all them Walterses was great fish -eaters, though it never went to brains. We fed em now and then, and -throwed back in the little ones till they was growed, and kep' the dead -ones picked out soon's we smelled anything wrong, and it never hurt the -water none; and when I was a kid I wouldn't of took anything fur living -in a house like that. - -Oncet, when I was a kid about six years old, Hank come home from the -bar-room. He got to chasing Elmira's cat cause he says it was making -faces at him. The cistern door was open, and Hank fell in. Elmira was -over to town, and I was scared. She had always told me not to fool -around there none when I was a little kid, fur if I fell in there I'd be -a corpse quicker'n scatt. - -So when Hank fell in, and I hearn him splash, being only a little -feller, and awful scared because Elmira had always made it so strong, -I hadn't no sort of unbelief but what Hank was a corpse already. So I -slams the trap door shut over that there cistern without looking in, -fur I hearn Hank flopping around down in there. I hadn't never hearn -a corpse flop before, and didn't know but what it might be somehow -injurious to me, and I wasn't going to take no chances. - -So I went out and played in the front yard, and waited fur Elmira. But -I couldn't seem to get my mind settled on playing I was a horse, nor -nothing. I kep' thinking mebby Hank's corpse is going to come flopping -out of that cistern and whale me some unusual way. I hadn't never been -licked by a corpse, and didn't rightly know jest what one is, anyhow, -being young and comparitive innocent. So I sneaks back in and sets -all the flatirons in the house on top of the cistern lid. I hearn some -flopping and splashing and spluttering, like Hank's corpse is trying to -jump up and is falling back into the water, and I hearn Hank's voice, -and got scareder yet. And when Elmira come along down the road, she seen -me by the gate a-crying, and she asts me why. - -“Hank is a corpse,” says I, blubbering. - -“A corpse!” says Elmira, dropping her coffee which she was carrying home -from the gineral store and post-office. “Danny, what do you mean?” - -I seen I was to blame somehow, and I wisht then I hadn't said nothing -about Hank being a corpse. And I made up my mind I wouldn't say nothing -more. So when she grabs holt of me and asts me agin what did I mean -I blubbered harder, jest the way a kid will, and says nothing else. I -wisht I hadn't set them flatirons on that door, fur it come to me all at -oncet that even if Hank _has_ turned into a corpse I ain't got any right -to keep him in that cistern. - -Jest then Old Mis' Rogers, which is one of our neighbours, comes by, -while Elmira is shaking me and yelling out what did I mean and how did -it happen and had I saw it and where was Hank's corpse? - -And Mis' Rogers she says, “What's Danny been doing now, Elmira?” me -being always up to something. - -Elmira she turned around and seen her, and she gives a whoop and then -hollers out: “Hank is dead!” and throws her apern over her head and sets -right down in the path and boo-hoos like a baby. And I bellers louder. - -Mis' Rogers, she never waited to ast nothing more. She seen she had a -piece of news, and she's bound to be the first to spread it, like they -is always a lot of women wants to be in them country towns. She run -right acrost the road to where the Alexanderses lived. Mis' Alexander, -she seen her coming and unhooked the screen door, and Mis' Rogers she -hollers out before she reached the porch: - -“Hank Walters is dead.” - -And then she went footing it up the street. They was a black plume on -her bunnet which nodded the same as on a hearse, and she was into and -out of seven front yards in five minutes. - -Mis' Alexander, she runs acrost the street to where we was, and she -kneels down and puts her arm around Elmira, which was still rocking back -and forth in the path, and she says: - -“How do you know he's dead, Elmira? I seen him not more'n an hour ago.” - -“Danny seen it all,” says Elmira. - -Mis' Alexander turned to me, and wants to know what happened and how it -happened and where it happened. But I don't want to say nothing about -that cistern. So I busts out bellering fresher'n ever, and I says: - -“He was drunk, and he come home drunk, and he done it then, and that's -how he cone it,” I says. - -“And you seen him?” she says. I nodded. - -“Where is he?” says she and Elmira, both to oncet. - -But I was scared to say nothing about that there cistern, so I jest -bawled some more. - -“Was it in the blacksmith shop?” says Mis' Alexander. I nodded my head -agin and let it go at that. - -“Is he in there now?” asts Mis' Alexander. I nodded agin. I hadn't meant -to give out no untrue stories. But a kid will always tell a lie, not -meaning to tell one, if you sort of invite him with questions like that, -and get him scared the way you're acting. Besides, I says to myself, “so -long as Hank has turned into a corpse and that makes him dead, what's -the difference whether he's in the blacksmith shop or not?” Fur I hadn't -had any plain idea, being such a little kid, that a corpse meant to be -dead, and wasn't sure what being dead was like, neither, except they had -funerals over you then. I knowed being a corpse must be some sort of -a big disadvantage from the way Elmira always says keep away from that -cistern door or I'll be one. But if they was going to be a funeral in -our house, I'd feel kind o' important, too. They didn't have em every -day in our town, and we hadn't never had one of our own. - -So Mis' Alexander, she led Elmira into the house, both a-crying, and -Mis' Alexander trying to comfort her, and me a tagging along behind -holding onto Elmira's skirts and sniffling into them. And in a few -minutes all them women Mis' Rogers has told come filing into that room, -one at a time, looking sad. Only Old Mis' Primrose, she was awful late -getting there because she stopped to put on her bunnet she always wore -to funerals with the black Paris lace on it her cousin Arminty White had -sent her from Chicago. - -When they found out Hank had come home with licker in him and done it -himself, they was all excited, and they all crowds around and asts me -how, except two as is holding onto Elmira's hands which sets moaning in -a chair. And they all asts me questions as to what I seen him do, which -if they hadn't I wouldn't have told em the lies I did. But they egged me -on to it. - -Says one woman: “Danny, you seen him do it in the blacksmith shop?” - -I nodded. - -“But how did he get in?” sings out another woman. “The door was locked -on the outside with a padlock jest now when I come by. He couldn't of -killed himself in there and locked the door on the outside.” - -I didn't see how he could of done that myself, so I begun to bawl agin -and said nothing at all. - -“He must of crawled through that little side window,” says another one. -“It was open when I come by, if the door _was_ locked. Did you see him -crawl through the little side window, Danny?” - -I nodded. They wasn't nothing else fur me to do. - -“But _you_ hain't tall enough to look through that there window,” says -another one to me. “How could you see into that shop, Danny?” - -I didn't know, so I didn't say nothing at all; I jest sniffled. - -“They is a store box right in under that window,” says another one. -“Danny must have clumb onto that store box and looked in after he seen -Hank come down the road and crawl through the window. Did you scramble -onto the store box and look in, Danny?” - -I jest nodded agin. - -“And what was it you seen him do? How did he kill himself?” they all -asts to oncet. - -_I_ didn't know. So I jest bellers and boo-hoos some more. Things was -getting past anything I could see the way out of. - -“He might of hung himself to one of the iron rings in the jists above -the forge,” says another woman. “He clumb onto the forge to tie the rope -to one of them rings, and he tied the other end around his neck, and -then he stepped off'n the forge. Was that how he done it, Danny?” - -I nodded. And then I bellered louder than ever. I knowed Hank was down -in that there cistern, a corpse and a mighty wet corpse, all this time; -but they kind o' got me to thinking mebby he was hanging out in the shop -by the forge, too. And I guessed I'd better stick to the shop story, not -wanting to say nothing about that cistern no sooner'n I could help it. - -Pretty soon one woman says, kind o' shivery: - -“I don't want to have the job of opening the door of that blacksmith -shop the first one!” - -And they all kind o' shivered then, and looked at Elmira. They says to -let some of the men open it. And Mis' Alexander, she says she'll run -home and tell her husband right off. - -And all the time Elmira is moaning in that chair. One woman says Elmira -orter have a cup o' tea, which she'll lay off her bunnet and go to the -kitchen and make it fur her. But Elmira says no, she can't a-bear to -think of tea, with poor Hennerey a-hanging out there in the shop. But -she was kind o' enjoying all that fuss being made over her, too. And all -the other women says: - -“Poor thing!” But all the same they was mad she said she didn't want any -tea, for they all wanted some and didn't feel free without she took it -too. Which she said she would after they'd coaxed a while and made her -see her duty. - -So they all goes out to the kitchen, bringing along some of the best -room chairs, Elmira coming too, and me tagging along behind. And the -first thing they noticed was them flatirons on top of the cistern door. -Mis' Primrose, she says that looks funny. But another woman speaks up -and says Danny must of been playing with them while Elmira was over -town. She says, “Was you playing they was horses, Danny?” - -I was feeling considerable like a liar by this time, but I says I was -playing horses with them, fur I couldn't see no use in hurrying things -up. I was bound to get a lamming purty soon anyhow. When I was a kid I -could always bet on that. So they picks up the flatirons, and as they -picks em up they come a splashing noise in the cistern. I thinks to -myself, Hank's corpse'll be out of there in a minute. One woman, she -says: - -“Goodness gracious sakes alive! What's that, Elmira?” - -Elmira says that cistern is mighty full of fish, and they is some great -big ones in there, and it must be some of them a-flopping around. Which -if they hadn't of been all worked up and talking all to oncet and all -thinking of Hank's body hanging out there in the blacksmith shop they -might of suspicioned something. For that flopping kep' up steady, and a -lot of splashing too. I mebby orter mentioned sooner it had been a dry -summer and they was only three or four feet of water in our cistern, and -Hank wasn't in scarcely up to his big hairy chest. So when Elmira says -the cistern is full of fish, that woman opens the trap door and looks -in. Hank thinks it's Elmira come to get him out. He allows he'll keep -quiet in there and make believe he is drowned and give her a good scare -and make her sorry fur him. But when the cistern door is opened, he -hears a lot of clacking tongues all of a sudden like they was a hen -convention on. He allows she has told some of the neighbours, and he'll -scare them too. So Hank, he laid low. And the woman as looks in sees -nothing, for it's as dark down there as the insides of the whale what -swallered Noah. But she leaves the door open and goes on a-making tea, -and they ain't skeercly a sound from that cistern, only little, ripply -noises like it might have been fish. - -Pretty soon a woman says: - -“It has drawed, Elmira; won't you have a cup?” Elmira she kicked some -more, but she took hern. And each woman took hern. And one woman, -a-sipping of hern, she says: - -“The departed had his good pints, Elmira.” - -Which was the best thing had been said of Hank in that town fur years -and years. - -Old Mis' Primrose, she always prided herself on being honest, no matter -what come, and she ups and says: - -“I don't believe in no hippercritics at a time like this, no more'n no -other time. The departed wasn't no good, and the hull town knowed it; -and Elmira orter feel like it's good riddance of bad rubbish and them is -my sentiments and the sentiments of rightfulness.” - -All the other women sings out: - -“W'y, _Mis' Primrose_! I never!” And they seemed awful shocked. But down -in underneath more of em agreed than let on. Elmira she wiped her eyes -and she said: - -“Hennerey and me has had our troubles. They ain't any use in denying -that, Mis' Primrose. It has often been give and take between us and -betwixt us. And the hull town knows he has lifted his hand agin me -more'n oncet. But I always stood up to Hennerey, and I fit him back, -free and fair and open. I give him as good as he sent on this here -earth, and I ain't the one to carry no annermosities beyond the grave. I -forgive Hank all the orneriness he done me, and they was a lot of it, as -is becoming unto a church member, which he never was.” - -And all the women but Mis' Primrose, they says: - -“Elmira Appleton, you _have_ got a Christian sperrit!” Which done her a -heap of good, and she cried considerable harder, leaking out tears as -fast as she poured tea in. Each one on em tries to find out something -good to say about Hank, only they wasn't much they could say. And Hank -in that there cistern a-listening to every word of it. - -Mis' Rogers, she says: - -“Afore he took to drinking like a fish, Hank Walters was as likely -looking a young feller as I ever see.” - -Mis' White, she says: - -“Well, Hank he never was a stingy man, nohow. Often and often White has -told me about seeing Hank, after he'd sold a piece of land, treating the -hull town down in Nolan's bar-room jest as come-easy, go-easy as if it -wasn't money he orter paid his honest debts with.” - -They set there that-a-way telling of what good pints they could think of -fur ten minutes, and Hank a-hearing it and getting madder and madder -all the time. The gineral opinion was that Hank wasn't no good and -was better done fur, and no matter what they said them feelings kep' -sticking out through the words. - -By and by Tom Alexander come busting into the house, and his wife, Mis' -Alexander, was with him. - -“What's the matter with all you folks,” he says. “They ain't nobody -hanging in that there blacksmith shop. I broke the door down and went -in, and it was empty.” - -Then they was a pretty howdy-do, and they all sings out: - -“Where's the corpse?” - -And some thinks mebby some one has cut it down and took it away, and all -gabbles to oncet. But for a minute no one thinks mebby little Danny has -been egged on to tell lies. Little Danny ain't saying a word. But Elmira -she grabs me and shakes me and she says: - -“You little liar, you, what do you mean by that tale you told?” - -I thinks that lamming is about due now. But whilst all eyes is turned on -me and Elmira, they comes a voice from that cistern. It is Hank's voice, -and he sings out: - -“Tom Alexander, is that you?” - -Some of the women scream, for some thinks it is Hank's ghost. But one -woman says what would a ghost be doing in a cistern? - -Tom Alexander, he laughs and he says: - -“What in blazes you want to jump in there fur, Hank?” - -“You dern ijut!” says Hank, “you quit mocking me and get a ladder, and -when I get out'n here I'll learn you to ast what did I want to jump in -here fur!” - -“You never seen the day you could do it,” says Tom Alexander, meaning -the day he could lick him. “And if you feel that way about it you can -stay there fur all of me. I guess a little water won't hurt you none.” - And he left the house. - -“Elmira,” sings out Hank, mad and bossy, “you go get me a ladder!” - -But Elmira, her temper riz up too, all of a sudden. - -“Don't you dare order me around like I was the dirt under your feet, -Hennerey Walters,” she says. - -At that Hank fairly roared, he was so mad. He says: - -“Elmira, when I get out'n here I'll give you what you won't fergit in a -hurry. I hearn you a-forgiving me and a-weeping over me, and I won't be -forgive nor weeped over by no one! You go and get that ladder.” - -But Elmira only answers: - -“You wasn't sober when you fell into there, Hennerey Walters. And now -you can jest stay in there till you get a better temper on you!” And all -the women says: “That's right, Elmira; spunk up to him!” - -[Illustration: 0039] - -They was considerable splashing around in the water fur a couple of -minutes. And then, all of a sudden, a live fish come a-whirling out -of that hole, which he had ketched it with his hands. It was a big -bullhead, and its whiskers around its mouth was stiffened into spikes, -and it lands kerplump into Mis' Rogers's lap, a-wiggling, and it kind -o' horns her on the hands, and she is that surprised she faints. Mis' -Primrose, she gets up and pushes that fish back into the cistern with -her foot from the floor where it had fell, and she says right decided: - -“Elmira Walters, that was Elmira Appleton, if you let Hank out'n that -cistern before he has signed the pledge and promised to jine the church -you're a bigger fool 'n I take you to be. A woman has got to make a -stand!” With that she marches out'n our house. - -Then all the women sings out: - -“Send fur Brother Cartwright! Send fur Brother Cartwright!” - -And they sent me scooting acrost town to get him quick. Which he was the -preacher of the Baptist church and lived next to it. And I hadn't got no -lamming yet! - - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -I never stopped to tell but two, three folks on the way to Brother -Cartwright's, but they must of spread it quick. 'Cause when I got back -home with him it seemed like the hull town was there. It was along about -dusk by this time, and it was a prayer-meeting night at the church. -Mr. Cartwright told his wife to tell the folks what come to the -prayer-meeting he'd be back before long, and to wait fur him. Which she -really told them where he had went, and what fur. Mr. Cartwright -marches right into the kitchen. All the chairs in our house was into the -kitchen, and the women was a-talking and a-laughing, and they had sent -over to Alexanderses for their chairs and to Rogerses for theirn. Every -oncet in a while they would be a awful bust of language come up from -that hole where that unreginerate old sinner was cooped up in. - -I have travelled around considerable since them days, and I have mixed -up along of many kinds of people in many different places, and some -of 'em was cussers to admire. But I never hearn such cussing before or -since as old Hank done that night. He busted his own records and riz -higher'n his own water marks for previous times. I wasn't nothing but -a little kid then, and skeercly fitten fur to admire the full beauty of -it. They was deep down cusses, that come from the heart. Looking back -at it after all these years, I can believe what Brother Cartwright said -himself that night, that it wasn't natcheral cussing and some higher -power, like a demon or a evil sperrit, must of entered into Hank's human -carkis and give that turrible eloquence to his remarks. It busted out -every few minutes, and the women would put their fingers into their ears -till a spell was over. And it was personal, too. Hank, he would listen -until he hearn a woman's voice that he knowed, and then he would let -loose on her fambly, going backwards to her grandfathers and downwards -to her children's children. If her father had once stolen a hog, or her -husband done any disgrace that got found out on him, Hank would put it -all into his gineral remarks, with trimmings onto it. - -Brother Cartwright, he steps up to the hole in the floor when he first -comes in and he says, gentle-like and soothing, like a undertaker when he -tells you where to set at a home funeral: - -“Brother Walters.” - -“Brother!” Hank yells out, “don't ye brother me, you sniffling, -psalm-singing, yaller-faced, pigeon-toed hippercrit, you! Get me a -ladder, gol dern you, and I'll come out'n here and learn you to brother -me, I will.” Only that wasn't nothing to what Hank really said to that -preacher; no more like it than a little yaller, fluffy canary is like a -buzzard. - -“Brother Walters,” says the preacher, ca'am but firm, “we have all -decided that you ain't going to come out of that cistern till you sign -the pledge.” - -And Hank tells him what he thinks of pledges and him and church doings, -and it wasn't purty. And he says if he was as deep in eternal fire as -what he now is in rain-water, and every fish that nibbles at his toes -was a preacher with a red-hot pitchfork a-jabbing at him, they could jab -till the hull hereafter turned into snow afore he'd ever sign nothing a -man like Mr. Cartwright give him to sign. Hank was stubborner than any -mule he ever nailed shoes onto, and proud of being that stubborn. That -town was a awful religious town, and Hank he knowed he was called the -most onreligious man in it, and he was proud of that too; and if any one -called him a heathen it jest plumb tickled him all over. - -“Brother Walters,” says that preacher, “we are going to pray for you.” - -And they done it. They brought all them chairs close up around that -cistern, in a ring, and they all kneeled down there, with their heads -on 'em, and they prayed fur Hank's salvation. They done it up in style, -too, one at a time, and the others singing out, “Amen!” every now and -then, and they shed tears down onto Hank. The front yard was crowded -with men, all a-laughing and a-talking and chawing and spitting tobacco -and betting how long Hank would hold out. Old Si Emery, that was the -city marshal, and always wore a big nickel-plated star, was out there -with 'em. Si was in a sweat, 'cause Bill Nolan, that run the bar-room, -and some more of Hank's friends, or as near friends as he had, was out -in the road. They says to Si he must arrest that preacher, fur Hank is -being gradual murdered in that there water, and he'll die if he's helt -there too long, and it will be a crime. Only they didn't come into the -yard to say it amongst us religious folks. But Si, he says he dassent -arrest no one because it is outside the town copperation; but he's -considerable worried too about what his duty orter be. - -Pretty soon the gang that Mrs. Cartwright has rounded up at the -prayer-meeting comes stringing along in. They had all brung their hymn -books with them, and they sung. The hull town was there then, and they -all sung, and they sung revival hymns over Hank. And Hank he would jest -cuss and cuss. Every time he busted out into another cussing spell they -would start another hymn. Finally the men out in the front yard got -warmed up too, and begun to sing, all but Bill Nolan's crowd, and they -give Hank up for lost and went away disgusted. - -The first thing you knowed they was a reg'lar revival meeting there, and -that preacher was preaching a reg'lar revival sermon. I been to more'n -one camp meeting, but fur jest natcherally taking holt of the hull human -race by the slack of its pants and dangling of it over hell-fire, I -never hearn nothing could come up to that there sermon. Two or three old -backsliders in the crowd come right up and repented all over agin on the -spot. The hull kit and biling of 'em got the power good and hard, like -they does at camp meetings and revivals. But Hank, he only cussed. He -was obstinate, Hank was, and his pride and dander had riz up. Finally he -says: - -“You're taking a ornery, low-down advantage o' me, you are. Let me out'n -this here cistern and I'll show you who'll stick it out longest on dry -land, dern your religious hides!” - -Some of the folks there hadn't had no suppers, so after all the other -sinners but Hank had either got converted or else sneaked away, some of -the women says why not make a kind of love feast out of it, and bring -some vittles, like they does to church sociables. Because it seems -likely Satan is going to wrastle all night long, like he done with the -angel Jacob, and they ought to be prepared. So they done it. They went -and they come back with vittles and they made up hot coffee and they -feasted that preacher and theirselves and Elmira and me, all right in -Hank's hearing. - -And Hank was getting hungry himself. And he was cold in that water. And -the fish was nibbling at him. And he was getting cussed out and weak and -soaked full of despair. And they wasn't no way fur him to set down and -rest. And he was scared of getting a cramp in his legs, and sinking down -with his head under water and being drownded. He said afterward he'd of -done the last with pleasure if they was any way of suing that crowd fur -murder. So along about ten o'clock he sings out: - -“I give in, gosh dern ye! I give in. Let me out and I'll sign your pesky -pledge!” - -Brother Cartwright was fur getting a ladder and letting him climb out -right away. But Elmira, she says: - -“Don't you do it, Brother Cartwright; don't you do it. You don't know -Hank Walters like I does. If he oncet gets out o' there before he's -signed that pledge, he won't never sign it.” - -So they fixed it up that Brother Cartwright was to write out a pledge -on the inside leaf of the Bible, and tie the Bible onto a string, and a -lead pencil onto another string, and let the strings down to Hank, -and he was to make his mark, fur he couldn't write, and they was to be -pulled up agin. Hank, he says all right, and they done it. But jest as -Hank was making his mark on the leaf of the book, that preacher done -what I has always thought was a mean trick. He was lying on the floor -with his head and shoulders into that hole as fur as he could, holding -a lantern way down into it, so as Hank could see. And jest as Hank made -that mark he spoke some words over him, and then he says: - -“Now, Henry Walters, I have baptized you, and you are a member of the -church.” - -You'd a thought Hank would of broke out cussing agin at being took -unexpected that-a-way, fur he hadn't really agreed to nothing but -signing the pledge. But nary a cuss. He jest says: “Now, you get that -ladder.” - -They got it, and he clumb up into the kitchen, dripping and shivering. - -“You went and baptized me in that water?” he asts the preacher. The -preacher says he has. - -“Then,” says Hank, “you done a low-down trick on me. You knowed I has -made my brags I never jined no church nor never would jine. You knowed -I was proud of that. You knowed that it was my glory to tell of it, and -that I set a heap of store by it in every way. And now you've went and -took it away from me! You never fought it out fair and square, neither, -man playing to outlast man, like you done with this here pledge, but you -sneaked it in on me when I wasn't looking.” - -They was a lot of men in that crowd that thought the preacher had went -too far, and sympathized with Hank. The way he done about that hurt -Brother Cartwright in our town, and they was a split in the church, -because some said it wasn't reg'lar and wasn't binding. He lost his -job after a while and become an evangelist. Which it don't make no -difference what one of them does, nohow. - -But Hank, he always thought he had been baptized reg'lar. And he never -was the same afterward. He had made his life-long brags, and his pride -was broke in that there one pertic'ler spot. And he sorrered and grieved -over it a good 'eal, and got grouchier and grouchier and meaner and -meaner, and lickered oftener, if anything. Signing the pledge couldn't -hold Hank. He was worse in every way after that night in the cistern, -and took to lamming me harder and harder. - - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Well, all the lammings Hank laid on never done me any good. It seemed -like I was jest natcherally cut out to have no success in life, and no -amount of whaling could change it, though Hank, he was faithful. Before -I was twelve years old the hull town had seen it, and they wasn't -nothing else expected of me except not to be any good. - -That had its handy sides to it, too. They was lots of kids there that -had to go to school, but Hank, he never would of let me done that if I -had ast him, and I never asted. And they was lots of kids considerably -bothered all the time with their parents and relations. They made 'em go -to Sunday School, and wash up reg'lar all over on Saturday nights, and -put on shoes and stockings part of the time, even in the summer, and -some of 'em had to ast to go in swimming, and the hull thing was -a continuous trouble and privation to 'em. But they wasn't nothing -perdicted of me, and I done like it was perdicted. Everybody 'lowed -from the start that Hank would of made trash out'n me, even if I hadn't -showed all the signs of being trash anyhow. And if they was devilment -anywhere about that town they all says, “Danny, he done it.” And like as -not I has. So I gets to be what you might call an outcast. All the kids -whose folks ain't trash, their mothers tells 'em not to run with me no -more. Which they done it all the more fur that reason, on the sly, and -it makes me more important with them. - -But when I gets a little bigger, all that makes me feel kind o' bad -sometimes. It ain't so handy then. Fur folks gets to saying, when I -would come around: - -“Danny, what do _you_ want?” - -And if I says, “Nothing,” they would say: - -“Well, then, you get out o' here!” - -Which they needn't of been suspicioning nothing like they pertended they -did, fur I never stole nothing more'n worter millions and mush millions -and such truck, and mebby now and then a chicken us kids use to roast in -the woods on Sundays, and jest as like as not it was one of Hank's hens -then, which I figgered I'd earnt it. - -Fur Hank, he had streaks when he'd work me considerable hard. He never -give me any money fur it. He loafed a lot too, and when he'd loaf I'd -loaf. But I did pick up right smart of handiness with tools around that -there shop of his'n, and if he'd ever of used me right I might of turned -into a purty fair blacksmith. But it wasn't no use trying to work fur -Hank. When I was about fifteen, times is right bad around the house fur -a spell, and Elmira is working purty hard, and I thinks to myself: - -“Well, these folks has kind o' brung you up, and you ain't never done -more'n Hank made you do. Mebby you orter stick to work a little more -when they's a job in the shop, even if Hank don't.” - -Which I tried it fur about two or three years, doing as much work around -the shop as Hank done and mebby more. But it wasn't no use. One day -when I'm about eighteen, I seen awful plain I'll have to light out from -there. They was a circus come to town that day. I says to Hank: - -“Hank, they is a circus this afternoon and agin to-night.” - -“So I has hearn,” says Hank. - -“Are you going to it?” says I. - -“I mout,” says Hank, “and then agin I moutn't. I don't see as it's no -consarns of yourn, nohow.” I knowed he was going, though. Hank, he never -missed a circus. - -“Well,” I says, “they wasn't no harm to ast, was they?” - -“Well, you've asted, ain't you?” says Hank. - -“Well, then,” says I, “I'd like to go to that there circus myself.” - -“They ain't no use in me saying fur you not to go,” says Hank, “fur you -would go anyhow. You always does go off when you is needed.” - -“But I ain't got no money,” I says, “and I was going to ast you could -you spare me half a dollar?” - -“Great Jehosephat!” says Hank, “but ain't you getting stuck up! What's -the matter of you crawling in under the tent like you always done? First -thing I know you'll be wanting a pair of these here yaller shoes and a -stove-pipe hat.” - -“No,” says I, “I ain't no dude, Hank, and you know it. But they is -always things about a circus to spend money on besides jest the circus -herself. They is the side show, fur instance, and they is the grand -concert afterward. I calkelated I'd take 'em all in this year--the hull -dern thing, jest fur oncet.” - -Hank, he looks at me like I'd asted fur a house 'n' lot, or a million -dollars, or something like that. But he don't say nothing. He jest -snorts. - -“Hank,” I says, “I been doing right smart work around the shop fur two, -three years now. If you wasn't loafing so much you'd a noticed it more. -And I ain't never ast fur a cent of pay fur it, nor--” - -“You ain't wuth no pay,” says Hank. “You ain't wuth nothing but to eat -vittles and wear out clothes.” - -“Well,” I says, “I figger I earn my vittles and a good 'eal more. And as -fur as clothes goes, I never had none but what Elmira made out'n yourn.” - -“Who brung you up?” asts Hank. - -“You done it,” says I, “and by your own say-so you done a dern poor job -at it.” - -“You go to that there circus,” says Hank, a-flaring up, “and I'll -lambaste you up to a inch of your life. So fur as handing out money fur -you to sling it to the dogs, I ain't no bank, and if I was I ain't no -ijut. But you jest let me hear of you even going nigh that circus lot -and all the lammings you has ever got, rolled into one, won't be -a measly little sarcumstance to what you _will_ get. They ain't no -leather-faced young upstart with weepin'-willow hail going to throw up -to me how I brung him up. That's gratitood fur you, that is!” says Hank. -“If it hadn't of been fur me giving you a home when I found you first, -where would you of been now?” - -“Well,” I says, “I might of been a good 'eal better off. If you hadn't -of took me in the Alexanderses would of, and then I wouldn't of been -kep' out of school and growed up a ignoramus like you is.” - -“I never had no trouble keeping you away from school, I notice,” says -Hank, with a snort. “This is the first I ever hearn of you wanting to go -there.” - -Which was true in one way, and a lie in another. I hadn't never wanted -to go till lately, but he'd of lammed me if I had of wanted to. He -always said he would. And now I was too big and knowed it. - -Well, Hank, he never give me no money, so I watches my chancet that -afternoon and slips in under the tent the same as always. And I lays low -under them green benches and wiggled through when I seen a good chancet. -The first person I seen was Hank. Of course he seen me, and he shook -his fist at me in a promising kind of way, and they wasn't no trouble -figgering out what he meant. Fur a while I didn't enjoy that circus to -no extent. Fur I was thinking that if Hank tries to lick me fur it I'll -fight him back this time, which I hadn't never fit him back much yet fur -fear he'd pick up something iron around the shop and jest natcherally -lay me cold with it. - -I got home before Hank did. It was nigh sundown, and I was waiting in -the door of the shop fur Elmira to holler vittles is ready, and Hank -come along. He didn't waste no time. He steps inside the shop and he -takes down a strap and he says: - -“You come here and take off your shirt.” - -But I jest moves away. Hank, he runs in on me, and he swings his strap. -I throwed up my arm, and it cut me acrost the knuckles. I run in on him, -and he dropped the strap and fetched me an openhanded smack plumb on the -mouth that jarred my head back and like to of busted it loose. Then I -got right mad, and I run in on him agin, and this time I got to him, and -wrastled with him. - -Well, sir, I never was so surprised in all my life before. Fur I hadn't -had holt on him more'n a minute before I seen I'm stronger than Hank -is. I throwed him, and he hit the ground with considerable of a jar, and -then I put my knee in the pit of his stomach and churned it a couple. -And I thinks to myself what a fool I must of been fur better'n a year, -because I might of done this any time. I got him by the ears and I -slammed his head into the gravel a few times, him a-reaching fur my -throat, and a-pounding me with his fists, but me a-taking the licks and -keeping holt. And I had a mighty contented time fur a few minutes there -on top of Hank, chuckling to myself, and batting him one every now and -then fur luck, and trying to make him holler it's enough. But Hank is -stubborn and he won't holler. And purty soon I thinks, what am I going -to do? Fur Hank will be so mad when I let him up he'll jest natcherally -kill me, without I kill him. And I was scared, because I don't want -neither one of them things to happen. Whilst I was thinking it over, -and getting scareder and scareder, and banging Hank's head harder and -harder, some one grabs me from behind. - -They was two of them, and one gets my collar and one gets the seat of -my pants, and they drug me off'n him. Hank, he gets up, and then he sets -down sudden on a horse block and wipes his face on his sleeve, which -they was considerable blood come onto the sleeve. - -I looks around to see who has had holt of me, and it is two men. One -of them looks about seven feet tall, on account of a big plug hat and a -long white linen duster, and has a beautiful red beard. In the road -they is a big stout road wagon, with a canopy top over it, pulled by two -hosses, and on the wagon box they is a strip of canvas. Which I couldn't -read then what was wrote on the canvas, but I learnt later it said, in -big print: - -SIWASH INDIAN SAGRAW. NATURE'S UNIVERSAL MEDICINAL SPECIFIC. DISCOVERED -BY DR. HARTLEY L. KIRBY AMONG THE ABORIGINES OF OREGON. - - -On account of being so busy, neither Hank nor me had hearn the wagon -come along the road and stop. The big man in the plug hat, he says, or -they was words to that effect, jest as serious: - -“Why are you mauling the aged gent?” - -“Well,” says I, “he needed it considerable.” - -“But,” says he, still more solemn, “the good book says to honour thy -father and thy mother.” - -“Well,” I says, “mebby it does and mebby it don't. But _he_ ain't my -father, nohow. And he ain't been getting no more'n his come-uppings.” - -“Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” the big man remarks, very serious. -Hank, he riz up then, and he says: - -“Mister, be you a preacher? 'Cause if you be, the sooner you have druv -on, the better fur ye. I got a grudge agin all preachers.” - -That feller, he jest looks Hank over ca'am and easy and slow before he -answers, and he wrinkles up his face like he never seen anything like -Hank before. Then he fetches a kind o' aggervating smile, and he says: - - -“Beneath a shady chestnut tree The village blacksmith stands. -The smith, a pleasant soul is he With warts upon his hands--” - - - -He stares at Hank hard and solemn and serious while he is saying that -poetry at him. Hank fidgets and turns his eyes away. But the feller -touches him on the breast with his finger, and makes him look at him. - -“My honest friend,” says the feller, “I am _not_ a preacher. Not right -now, anyhow. No! My mission is spreading the glad tidings of good -health. Look at me,” and he swells his chest up, and keeps a-holt -of Hank's eyes with his'n. “You behold before you the discoverer, -manufacturer, and proprietor of Siwash Indian Sagraw, nature's own -remedy for Bright's Disease, rheumatism, liver and kidney trouble, -catarrh, consumption, bronchitis, ring-worm, erysipelas, lung fever, -typhoid, croup, dandruff, stomach trouble, dyspepsia--” And they was a -lot more of 'em. - -“Well,” says Hank, sort o' backing up as the big man come nearer and -nearer to him, jest natcherally bully-ragging him with them eyes, “I got -none of them there complaints.” - -The doctor he kind o' snarls, and he brings his hand down hard on Hank's -shoulder, and he says: - -“There are more things betwixt Dan and Beersheba than was ever dreamt -of in thy sagacity, Romeo!” Or they was words to that effect, fur that -doctor was jest plumb full of Scripter quotations. And he sings out -sudden, giving Hank a shove that nearly pushes him over: “Man alive!” he -yells, “you _don't know_ what disease you may have! Many's the strong man -I've seen rejoicing in his strength at the dawn of day cut down like the -grass in the field before sunset,” he says. - -Hank, he's trying to look the other way, but that doctor won't let his -eyes wiggle away from his'n. He says very sharp: - -“Stick out your tongue!” - -[Illustration: 0061] - -Hank, he sticks her out. - -The doctor, he takes some glasses out'n his pocket and puts 'em on, and -he fetches a long look at her. Then he opens his mouth like he was going -to say something, and shuts it agin like his feelings won't let him. He -puts his arm across Hank's shoulder affectionate and sad, and then he -turns his head away like they was some one dead in the fambly. Finally, -he says: - -“I thought so. I saw it. I saw it in your eyes when I first drove up. I -hope,” he says, very mournful, “I haven't come too late!” - -Hank, he turns pale. I was getting sorry fur Hank myself. I seen now why -I licked him so easy. Any one could of told from that doctor's actions -Hank was as good as a dead man already. But Hank, he makes a big effort, -and he says: - -“Shucks! I'm sixty-eight years old, doctor, and I hain't never had a -sick day in my life.” But he was awful uneasy too. - -The doctor, he says to the feller with him: “Looey, bring me one of the -sample size.” - -Looey brung it, the doctor never taking his eyes off'n Hank. He handed -it to Hank, and he says: - -“A whiskey glass full three times a day, my friend, and there is a good -chance for even you. I give it to you, without money and without price.” - -“But what have I got?” asts Hank. - -“You have spinal meningitis,” says the doctor, never batting an eye. - -“Will this here cure me?” says Hank. - -“It'll cure _anything_,” says the doctor. - -Hank he says, “Shucks,” agin, but he took the bottle and pulled the cork -out and smelt it, right thoughtful. And what them fellers had stopped -at our place fur was to have the shoe of the nigh hoss's off hind foot -nailed on, which it was most ready to drop off. Hank, he done it fur a -regulation, dollar-size bottle and they druv on into the village. - -Right after supper I goes down town. They was in front of Smith's Palace -Hotel. They was jest starting up when I got there. Well, sir, that -doctor was a sight. He didn't have his duster onto him, but his -stove-pipe hat was, and one of them long Prince Alferd coats nearly to -his knees, and shiny shoes, but his vest was cut out holler fur to show -his biled shirt, and it was the pinkest shirt I ever see, and in the -middle of that they was a diamond as big as Uncle Pat Hickey's wen, -what was one of the town sights. No, sir; they never was a man with more -genuine fashionableness sticking out all over him than Doctor Kirby. He -jest fairly wallered in it. - -I hadn't paid no pertic'ler attention to the other feller with him when -they stopped at our place, excepting to notice he was kind of slim -and blackhaired and funny complected. But I seen now I orter of looked -closeter. Fur I'll be dad-binged if he weren't an Injun! There he set, -under that there gasoline lamp the wagon was all lit up with, with -moccasins on, and beads and shells all over him, and the gaudiest turkey -tail of feathers rainbowing down from his head you ever see, and a -blanket around him that was gaudier than the feathers. And he shined and -rattled every time he moved. - -That wagon was a hull opry house to itself. It was rolled out in front -of Smith's Palace Hotel without the hosses. The front part was filled -with bottles of medicine. The doctor, he begun business by taking out a -long brass horn and tooting on it. They was about a dozen come, but they -was mostly boys. Then him and the Injun picked up some banjoes and sung -a comic song out loud and clear. And they was another dozen or so -come. And they sung another song, and Pop Wilkins, he closed up the -post-office and come over and the other two veterans of the Grand Army -of the Republicans that always plays checkers in there nights come along -with him. But it wasn't much of a crowd, and the doctor he looked sort -o' worried. I had a good place, right near the hind wheel of the wagon -where he rested his foot occasional, and I seen what he was thinking. So -I says to him: - -“Doctor Kirby, I guess the crowd is all gone to the circus agin -to-night.” And all them fellers there seen I knowed him. - -“I guess so, Rube,” he says to me. And they all laughed 'cause he called -me Rube, and I felt kind of took down. - -Then he lit in to tell about that Injun medicine. First off he told how -he come to find out about it. It was the father of the Injun what -was with him had showed him, he said. And it was in the days of his -youthfulness, when he was wild, and a cowboy on the plains of Oregon. -Well, one night he says, they was an awful fight on the plains of -Oregon, wherever them is, and he got plugged full of bullet holes. And -his hoss run away with him and he was carried off, and the hoss was -going at a dead run, and the blood was running down onto the ground. And -the wolves smelt the blood and took out after him, yipping and yowling -something frightful to hear, and the hoss he kicked out behind and -killed the head wolf and the others stopped to eat him up, and while -they was eating him the hoss gained a quarter of a mile. But they et him -up and they was gaining agin, fur the smell of human blood was on the -plains of Oregon, he says, and the sight of his mother's face when she -ast him never to be a cowboy come to him in the moonlight, and he knowed -that somehow all would yet be well, and then he must of fainted and he -knowed no more till he woke up in a tent on the plains of Oregon. And -they was an old Injun bending over him and a beautiful Injun maiden was -feeling of his pulse, and they says to him: - -“Pale face, take hope, fur we will doctor you with Siwash Injun Sagraw, -which is nature's own cure fur all diseases.” - -They done it. And he got well. It had been a secret among them there -Injuns fur thousands and thousands of years. Any Injun that give away -the secret was killed and rubbed off the rolls of the tribe and buried -in disgrace upon the plains of Oregon. And the doctor was made a blood -brother of the chief, and learnt the secret of that medicine. Finally -he got the chief to see as it wasn't Christian to hold back that -there medicine from the world no longer, and the chief, his heart was -softened, and he says to go. - -“Go, my brother,” he says, “and give to the pale faces the medicine -that has been kept secret fur thousands and thousands of years among the -Siwash Injuns on the plains of Oregon.” - -And he went. It wasn't that he wanted to make no money out of that there -medicine. He could of made all the money he wanted being a doctor in the -reg'lar way. But what he wanted was to spread the glad tidings of good -health all over this fair land of ourn, he says. - -Well, sir, he was a talker, that there doctor was, and he knowed more -religious sayings and poetry along with it, than any feller I ever -hearn. He goes on and he tells how awful sick people can manage to get -and never know it, and no one else never suspicion it, and live along -fur years and years that-a-way, and all the time in danger of death. He -says it makes him weep when he sees them poor diluted fools going around -and thinking they is well men, talking and laughing and marrying and -giving in to marriage right on the edge of the grave. He sees dozens of -'em in every town he comes to. But they can't fool him, he says. He can -tell at a glance who's got Bright's Disease in their kidneys and who -ain't. His own father, he says, was deathly sick fur years and years and -never knowed it, and the knowledge come on him sudden like, and he died. -That was before Siwash Injun Sagraw was ever found out about. Doctor -Kirby broke down and cried right there in the wagon when he thought of -how his father might of been saved if he was only alive now that that -medicine was put up into bottle form, six fur a five-dollar bill so long -as he was in town, and after that two dollars fur each bottle at the -drug store. - -He unrolled a big chart and the Injun helt it by that there gasoline -lamp, so all could see, turning the pages now and then. It was a map of -a man's inside organs and digestive ornaments and things. They was red -and blue, like each organ's own disease had turned it, and some of 'em -was yaller. And they was a long string of diseases printed in black -hanging down from each organ's picture. I never knowed before they was -so many diseases nor yet so many things to have 'em in. - -Well, I was feeling purty good when that show started. But the doc, -he kep' looking right at me every now and then when he talked, and I -couldn't keep my eyes off'n him. - -“Does your heart beat fast when you exercise?” he asts the crowd. “Is -your tongue coated after meals? Do your eyes leak when your nose is -stopped up? Do you perspire under your arm pits? Do you ever have a -ringing in your ears? Does your stomach hurt you after meals? Does your -back ever ache? Do you ever have pains in your legs? Do your eyes blur -when you look at the sun? Are your teeth coated? Does your hair come out -when you comb it? Is your breath short when you walk up stairs? Do your -feet swell in warm weather? Are there white spots on your finger nails? -Do you draw your breath part of the time through one nostril and part -of the time through the other? Do you ever have nightmare? Did your -nose bleed easily when you were growing up? Does your skin fester when -scratched? Are your eyes gummy in the mornings? Then,” he says, “if you -have any or all of these symptoms, your blood is bad, and your liver is -wasting away.” - -Well, sir, I seen I was in a bad way, fur at one time or another I had -had most of them there signs and warnings, and hadn't heeded 'em, and I -had some of 'em yet. I begun to feel kind o' sick, and looking at them -organs and diseases didn't help me none, either. The doctor, he lit out -on another string of symptoms, and I had them, too. Seems to me I had -purty nigh everything but fits. Kidney complaint and consumption both -had a holt on me. It was about a even bet which would get me first. I -kind o' got to wondering which. I figgered from what he said that I'd -had consumption the _longest_ while, but my kind of kidney trouble was an -awful SLY kind, and it was lible to jump in without no warning a-tall -and jest natcherally wipe me out _quick_. So I sort o' bet on the -kidney trouble. But I seen I was a goner, and I forgive Hank all his -orneriness, fur a feller don't want to die holding grudges. - -Taking it the hull way through, that was about the best medicine show I -ever seen. But they didn't sell much. All the people what had any money -was to the circus agin that night. So they sung some more songs and -closed early and went into the hotel. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Well, the next morning I'm feeling considerable better, and think mebby -I'm going to live after all. I got up earlier'n Hank did, and slipped -out without him seeing me, and didn't go nigh the shop a-tall. Fur now -I've licked Hank oncet I figger he won't rest till he has wiped that -disgrace out, and he won't care a dern what he picks up to do it with, -nuther. - -They was a crick about a hundred yards from our house, in the woods, -and I went over there and laid down and watched it run by. I laid awful -still, thinking I wisht I was away from that town. Purty soon a squirrel -comes down and sets on a log and watches me. I throwed an acorn at him, -and he scooted up a tree quicker'n scatt. And then I wisht I hadn't -scared him away, fur it looked like he knowed I was in trouble. Purty -soon I takes a swim, and comes out and lays there some more, spitting -into the water and thinking what shall I do now, and watching birds and -things moving around, and ants working harder'n ever I would agin unless -I got better pray fur it, and these here tumble bugs kicking their loads -along hind end to. - -After a while it is getting along toward noon, and I'm feeling hungry. -But I don't want to have no more trouble with Hank, and I jest lays -there. I hearn two men coming through the underbrush. I riz up on my -elbow to look, and one of them was Doctor Kirby and the other was Looey, -only Looey wasn't an Injun this morning. - -They sets down on the roots of a big tree a little ways off, with their -backs toward me, and they ain't seen me. So nacherally I listened to -what they was jawing about. They was both kind o' mad at the hull world, -and at our town in pertic'ler, and some at each other, too. The doctor, -he says: - -“I haven't had such rotten luck since I played the bloodhound in a Tom -Show--Were you ever an 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' artist, Looey?--and a justice -of the peace over in Iowa fined me five dollars for being on the street -without a muzzle. Said it was a city ordinance. Talk about the gentle -Rube being an easy mark! If these country towns don't get the wandering -minstrel's money one way they will another!” - -“It's your own fault,” says Looey, kind o' sour. - -“I can't see it,” says Doctor Kirby. “How did I know that all these -apple-knockers had been filled up with Sykes's Magic Remedy only two -weeks ago? I may have been a spiritualistic medium in my time now and -then,” he says, “and a mind reader, too, but I'm no prophet.” - -“I ain't talking about the business, Doc, and you know it,” says Looey. -“We'd be all right and have our horses and wagon now if you'd only stuck -to business and not got us into that poker game. Talk about suckers! -Doc, for a man that has skinned as many of 'em as you have, you're the -worst sucker yourself I ever saw.” - -The doctor, he cusses the poker game and country towns and medicine -shows and the hull creation and says he is so disgusted with life he -guesses he'll go and be a preacher or a bearded lady in a sideshow. But -Looey, he don't cheer up none. He says: - -“All right, Doc, but it's no use talking. You can _talk_ all right. We all -know that. The question is how are we going to get our horses and wagon -away from these Rubes?” - -I listens some more, and I seen them fellers was really into bad -trouble. Doctor Kirby, he had got into a poker game at Smith's Palace -Hotel the night before, right after the show. He had won from Jake -Smith, which run it, and from the others. But shucks! it never made no -difference what you won in that crowd. They had done Doctor Kirby and -Looey like they always done a drummer or a stranger that come along to -that town and was fool enough to play poker with them. They wasn't a -chancet fur an outsider. If the drummer lost, they would take his money -and that would be all they was to it. But if the drummer got to winning -good, some one would slip out'n the hotel and tell Si Emery, which was -the city marshal. And Si would get Ralph Scott, that worked fur Jake -Smith in his livery stable, and pin a star onto Ralph, too. And they -would be arrested fur gambling, only them that lived in our town would -get away. Which Si and Ralph was always scared every time they done it. -Then the drummer, or whoever it was, would be took to the calaboose, and -spend all night there. - -[Illustration: 0077] - -In the morning they would be took before Squire Matthews, that was -justice of the peace. They would be fined a big fine, and he would get -all the drummer had won and all he had brung to town with him besides. -Squire Matthews and Jake Smith and Windy Goodell and Mart Watson, which -the two last was lawyers, was always playing that there game on drummers -that was fool enough to play poker. Hank, he says he bet they divided it -up afterward, though it was supposed them fines went to the town. Well, -they played a purty closte game of poker in our little town. It was jest -like the doctor says to Looey: - -“By George,” he says, “it is a well-nigh perfect thing. If you lose you -lose, and if you win you lose.” - -Well, the doctor, he had started out winning the night before. And Si -Emery and Ralph Scott had arrested them. And that morning, while I had -been laying by the crick and the rest of the town was seeing the fun, -they had been took afore Squire Matthews and fined one hundred and -twenty-five dollars apiece. The doctor, he tells Squire Matthews it -is an outrage, and it ain't legal if tried in a bigger court, and they -ain't that much money in the world so fur as he knows, and he won't pay -it. But, the squire, he says the time has come to teach them travelling -fakirs as is always running around the country with shows and electric -belts and things that they got to stop dreening that town of hard-earned -money, and he has decided to make an example of 'em. The only two -lawyers in town is Windy and Mart, which has been in the poker game -theirselves, the same as always. The doctor says the hull thing is a -put-up job, and he can't get the money, and he wouldn't if he could, and -he'll lay in that town calaboose and rot the rest of his life and eat -the town poor before he'll stand it. And the squire says he'll jest take -their hosses and wagon fur c'latteral till they make up the rest of the -two hundred and fifty dollars. And the hosses and wagon was now in the -livery stable next to Smith's Palace Hotel, which Jake run that too. - -Well, I thinks to myself, it _is_ a dern shame, and I felt sorry fur them -two fellers. Fur our town was jest as good as stealing that property. -And I felt kind o' shamed of belonging to such a town, too. And I thinks -to myself, I'd like to help 'em out of that scrape. And then I seen -how I could do it, and not get took up fur it, neither. So, without -thinking, all of a sudden I jumps up and says: - -“Say, Doctor Kirby, I got a scheme!” - -They jumps up too, and they looks at me startled. Then the doctor kind -o' laughs and says: - -“Why, it's the young blacksmith!” - -Looey, he says, looking at me hard and suspicious: - -“What kind of a scheme are you talking about?” - -“Why,” says I, “to get that outfit of yourn.” - -“You've been listening to us,” says Looey. Looey was one of them -quiet-looking fellers that never laughed much nor talked much. Looey, -he never made fun of nobody, which the doctor was always doing, and I -wouldn't of cared to make fun of Looey much, either. - -“Yes,” I says, “I been laying here fur quite a spell, and quite -natcheral I listened to you, as any one else would of done. And mebby I -can get that team and wagon of yourn without it costing you a cent.” - -Well, they didn't know what to say. They asts me how, but I says to -leave it all to me. “Walk right along down this here crick,” I says, -“till you get to where it comes out'n the woods and runs acrost the road -in under an iron bridge. That's about a half a mile east. Jest after the -road crosses the bridge it forks. Take the right fork and walk another -half a mile and you'll see a little yaller-painted schoolhouse setting -lonesome on a sand hill. They ain't no school in it now. You wait there -fur me,” I says, “fur a couple of hours. After that if I ain't there -you'll know I can't make it. But I think I'll make it.” - -They looks at each other and they looks at me, and then they go off a -little piece and talk low, and then the doctor says to me: - -“Rube,” he says, “I don't know how you can work anything on us that -hasn't been worked already. We've got nothing more we can lose. You go -to it, Rube.” And they started off. - -So I went over town. Jake Smith was setting on the piazza in front of -his hotel, chawing and spitting tobacco, with his feet agin the railing -like he always done, and one of his eyes squinched up and his hat over -the other one. - -“Jake,” I says, “where's that there doctor?” - -Jake, he spit careful afore he answered, and he pulled his long, -scraggly moustache careful, and he squinched his eyes at me. Jake was a -careful man in everything he done. - -“I dunno, Danny,” he says. “Why?” - -“Well,” I says, “Hank sent me over to get that wagon and them hosses of -theirn and finish that job.” - -“That there wagon,” says Jake, “is in my barn, with Si Emery watching -her, and she has got to stay there till the law lets her loose.” I -figgered to myself Jake could use that team and wagon in his business, -and was going to buy her cheap offn the town, what share of her he -didn't figger he owned already. - -“Why, Jake,” I says, “I hope they ain't been no trouble of no kind that -has drug the law into your barn!” - -“Well, Danny,” he says, “they _has_ been a little trouble. But it's about -over, now, I guess. And that there outfit belongs to the town now.” - -“You don't say so!” says I, surprised-like. “When I seen them men last -night it looked to me like they was too fine dressed to be honest.” - -“I don't think they be, Danny,” says Jake, confidential. “In my opinion -they is mighty bad customers. But they has got on the wrong side of the -law now, and I guess they won't stay around here much longer.” - -“Well,” says I, “Hank will be glad.” - -“Fur what?” asts Jake. - -“Well,” says I, “because he got his pay in advance fur that job and now -he don't have to finish it. They come along to our place about sundown -yesterday, and we nailed a shoe on one hoss. They was a couple of -other hoofs needed fixing, and the tire on one of the hind wheels was -beginning to rattle loose.” - -I had noticed that loose tire when I was standing by the hind wheel the -night before, and it come in handy now. So I goes on: - -“Hank, he allowed he'd fix the hull thing fur six bottles of that Injun -medicine. Elmira has been ailing lately, and he wanted it fur her. So -they handed Hank out six bottles then and there.” - -“Huh!” says Jake. “So the job is all paid fur, is it?” - -“Yes,” says I, “and I was expecting to do it myself. But now I guess -I'll go fishing instead. They ain't no other job in the shop.” - -“I'll be dinged if you've got time to fish,” says Jake. “I'm expecting -mebby to buy that rig off the town myself when the law lets loose of it. -So if the fixing is paid fur, I want everything fixed.” - -“Jake,” says I, kind of worried like, “I don't want to do it without -that doctor says to go ahead.” - -“They ain't his'n no longer,” says Jake. - -“I dunno,” says I, “as you got any right to make me do it, Jake. It -don't look to me like it's no harm to beat a couple of fellers like them -out of their medicine. And I _did_ want to go fishing this afternoon.” - -But Jake was that careful and stingy he'd try to skin a hoss twicet if -it died. He's bound to get that job done, now. - -“Danny,” he says, “you gotto do that work. It ain't _honest_ not to. What -a young feller like you jest starting out into life wants to remember is -to always be honest. Then,” says Jake, squinching up his eyes, “people -trusts you and you get a good chancet to make money. Look at this here -hotel and livery stable, Danny. Twenty years ago I didn't have no more'n -you've got, Danny. But I always went by them mottoes--hard work and -being honest. You _gotto_ nail them shoes on, Danny, and fix that wheel.” - -“Well, all right, Jake,” says I, “if you feel that way about it. Jest -give me a chaw of tobacco and come around and help me hitch 'em up.” - -Si Emery was there asleep on a pile of straw guarding that property. But -Ralph Scott wasn't around. Si didn't wake up till we had hitched 'em up. -He says he will ride around to the shop with me. But Jake says: - -“It's all right, Si. I'll go over myself and fetch 'em back purty soon.” - Which Si was wore out with being up so late the night before, and goes -back to sleep agin right off. - -Well, sir, they wasn't nothing went wrong. I drove slow through the -village and past our shop. Hank come to the door of it as I went past. -But I hit them hosses a lick, and they broke into a right smart trot. -Elmira, she come onto the porch and I waved my hand at her. She put her -hand up to her forehead to shut out the sun and jest stared. She didn't -know I was waving her farewell. Hank, he yelled something at me, but I -never hearn what. I licked them hosses into a gallop and went around the -turn of the road. And that's the last I ever seen or hearn of Hank or -Elmira or that there little town. - - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -I slowed down when I got to the schoolhouse, and both them fellers piled -in. - -“I guess I better turn north fur about a mile and then turn west, Doctor -Kirby,” I says, “so as to make a kind of a circle around that town.” - -“Why, so, Rube?” he asts me. - -“Well,” I says, “we left it going east, and they'll foller us east; so -don't we want to be going west while they're follering east?” - -Looey, he agreed with me. But he said it wouldn't be much use, fur we -would likely be ketched up with and took back and hung or something, -anyhow. Looey could get the lowest in his sperrits sometimes of any man -I ever seen. - -“Don't be afraid of that,” says the doctor. “They are not going to -follow us. _They_ know they didn't get this property by due process of -law. _They_ aren't going to take the case into a county court where it -will all come out about the way they robbed a couple of travelling men -with a fake trial.” - -“I guess you know more about the law'n I do,” I says. “I kind o' thought -mebby we stole them hosses.” - -“Well,” he says, “we got 'em, anyhow. And if they try to arrest us -without a warrant there'll be the deuce to pay. But they aren't going -to make any more trouble. I know these country crooks. They've got no -stomach for trouble outside their own township.” - -Which made me feel considerable better, fur I never been of the opinion -that going agin the law done any one no good. - -They looks around in that wagon, and all their stuff was there--Jake -Smith and the squire having kep' it all together careful to make things -seem more legal, I suppose--and the doctor was plumb tickled, and Looey -felt as cheerful as he ever felt about anything. So the doctor says they -has everything they needs but some ready money, and he'll get that sure, -fur he never seen the time he couldn't. - -“But, Looey,” he says, “I'm done with country hotels from now on. -They've got the last cent they ever will from me--at least in the summer -time.” - -“How you going to work it?” Looey asts him, like he hasn't no hopes it -will work right. - -“Camp out,” says the doctor. “I've been thinking it all over.” Then he -turns to me. “Rube,” he says, “where are you going?” - -“Well,” I says, “I ain't pinted nowhere in pertic'ler except away from -that town we just left. Which my name ain't Rube, Doctor Kirby, but -Danny.” - -“Danny what?” asts he. - -“Nothing,” says I, “jest Danny.” - -“Well, then, Danny,” says he, “how would you like to be an Indian?” - -“Medical?” asts I, “or real?” - -“Like Looey,” says he. - -I tells him being a medical Injun and mixed up with a show like his'n -would suit me down to the ground, and asts him what is the main duties -of one besides the blankets and the feathers. - -“Well,” he says, “this camping-out scheme of mine will take a couple of -Indians. Instead of paying hotel and feed bills we'll pitch our tent,” - he says, “at the edge of town in each sweet Auburn of the plains. We'll -save money and we'll be near the throbbing heart of nature. And an -Indian camp in each place will be a good advertisement for the Sagraw. -You can look after the horses and learn to do the cooking and that kind -o' thing. And maybe after while,” he says, kind o' working himself up to -where he thought it was going to be real nice, “maybe after while I will -give you some insight into the hidden mysteries of selling Siwash Indian -Sagraw.” - -“Well,” says I, “I'd like to learn that.” - -“Would you?” says he, kind o' laughing at himself and me too, and yet -kind o' enthusiastic, “well, then, the first thing you have to do is -learn how to sell corn salve. Any one that can sell corn salve can sell -anything. There's a farmhouse right over there, and I'll give you your -first lesson right now. Rummage around in that satchel there under the -seat and get me a tin box and some corn salve labels.” - -I found a lot of labels, and some boxes too. The labels was all -different sizes, but barring that they all looked about the same to me. -Whilst I was sizing them up he asts me agin was they any corn salve ones -in there. - -“What colour label is it, Doctor Kirby?” I asts him. Fur they was blue -labels and white labels and pink labels. - -He looks at me right queer. “Can't you read the labels?” he says, right -sharp. - -“Well,” I says, “I never been much of a reader when it comes to -different kind of medicines.” - -“Corn salve is spelled only one way,” says he. - -“That's right,” I says, “and you'd think I orter be able to pick out a -common, ordinary thing like corn salve right off, wouldn't you?” - -“Danny,” he says, “you don't mean to tell me you can't read anything at -all?” - -“I never told you nothing of the kind.” - -He picks out a label. - -“If you can read so fast, what's that?” he asts. - -She is a pink one. I thinks to myself; she either is corn salve or else -she ain't corn salve. And it ain't natcheral he will pick corn salve, -fur he would think I would say that first off. So I'm betting it ain't. -I takes a chancet on it. - -“That,” says I, “is mighty easy reading. That is Siwash Injun Sagraw.” I -lost. - -“It's corn salve,” he says. “And Great Scott! They call this the -twentieth century!” - -“I never called it that,” says I, sort o' mad-like. Fur I was feeling -bad Doctor Kirby had found out I was such a ignoramus. - -“Where ignorance is bliss,” says he, “it is folly to be wise. But all -the same, I'm going to take your education in hand and make you drink of -life's Peruvian springs.” Or some spring like that it was. - -And the doctor, he done it. Looey said it wouldn't be no use learning to -read. He'd done a lot of reading, he said, and it never helped him none. -All he ever read showed him this feller Hamlet was right, he said, when -he wrote Shakespeare's works, and they wasn't much use in anything, -without you had a lot o' money. And they wasn't no chancet to get that -with all these here trusts around gobbling up everything and stomping -the poor man into the dirt, and they was lots of times he wisht he was -a Injun sure enough, and not jest a medical one, fur then he'd be a -free man and the bosses and the trusts and the railroads and the robber -tariff couldn't touch him. And then he shut up, and didn't say nothing -fur a hull hour, except oncet he laughed. - -Fur Doctor Kirby, he says, winking at me: “Looey, here, is a nihilist.” - -“Is he,” says I, “what's that?” And the doctor tells me about how they -blow up dukes and czars and them foreign high-mucky-mucks with dynamite. -Which is when Looey laughed. - -[Illustration: 0091] - -Well, we jogged along at a pretty good gait fur several hours, and we -stayed that night at a Swede's place, which the doctor paid him fur -everything in medicine, only it took a long time to make the bargain, -fur them Swedes is always careful not to get cheated, and hasn't many -diseases. And the next night we showed in a little town, and done right -well, and took in considerable money. We stayed there three days and -bought a tent and a sheet-iron stove and some skillets and things and -some provisions, and a suit of duds for me. - -Well, we went on, and we kept going on, and they was bully times. We'd -ease up careful toward a town, and pick us out a place on the edge, -where the hosses could graze along the side of the road; and most -ginerally by a piece of woods not fur from that town, and nigh a crick, -if we could. Then we'd set up our tent. After we had everything fixed, -I'd put on my Injun clothes and Looey his'n, and we'd drive through the -main store street of the town at a purty good lick, me a-holt of the -reins, and the doctor all togged out in his best clothes, and Looey -doing a Injun dance in the midst of the wagon. I'd pull up the hosses -sudden in front of the post-office or the depot platform or the hotel, -and the people would come crowding around, and the doctor he'd make a -little talk from the wagon, and tell everybody they would be a free show -that night on that corner, and fur everybody to come to it. And then -we'd drive back to camp, lickitysplit. - -Purty soon every boy in town would be out there, kind o' hanging around, -to see what a Injun camp was like. And the farmers that went into and -out of town always stopped and passed the time of day, and the Injun -camp got the hull town all worked up as a usual thing; and the doctor, -he done well, fur when night come every one would be on hand. Looey -and me, every time we went into town, had on our Injun suits, and the -doctor, he wondered why he hadn't never thought up that scheme before. -Sometimes, when they was lots of people ailing in a town, and they -hadn't been no show fur quite a while, we'd stay five or six days, and -make a good clean-up. The doctor, he sent to Chicago several times fur -alcohol in barrels, 'cause he was selling it so fast he had to make new -Sagraw. And he had to get more and more bottles, and a hull satchel full -of new Sagraw labels printed. - -And all the time the doctor was learning me education. And shucks! they -wasn't nothing so hard about it oncet you'd got started in to reading -things. I jest natcherally took to print like a duck to water, and -inside of a month I was reading nigh everything that has ever been -wrote. He had lots of books with him and every time a new sockdologer of -a word come along and I learnt how to spell her and where she orter fit -in to make sense it kind o' tickled me all over. And many's the time -afterward, when me and the doctor had lost track of each other, and they -was quite a spell people got to thinking I was a tramp, I've went into -these here Andrew Carnegie libraries in different towns jest as much to -see if they had anything fitten to read as fur to keep warm. - -Well, we went easing over toward the Indiany line, and we was having a -purty good time. They wasn't no work to do you could call really hard, -and they was plenty of vittles. Afternoons we'd lazy around the camp and -swap stories and make medicine if we needed a batch, and josh back and -forth with the people that hung around, and loaf and doze and smoke; or -mebby do a little fishing if we was nigh a crick. - -And nights after the show was over it was fun, too. We always had a -fire, even if it was a hot night, fur to cook by in the first place, and -fur to keep mosquitoes off, and to make things seem more cheerful. -They ain't nothing so good as hanging round a campfire. And they ain't -nothing any better than sleeping outdoors, neither. You roll up in your -blanket with your feet to the fire and you get to wondering things about -things afore you go to sleep. The silentness jest natcherally swamps -everything after a while, and then all them queer little noises -you never hear in the daytime comes popping and poking through the -silentness, or kind o' scratching their way through it sometimes, and -makes it kind o' feel more silent than ever. And if you are nigh a -crick, purty soon it will sort of get to talking to you, only you can't -make out what it's trying to say, and you get to wondering about that, -too. And if you are in a tent and it rains and the tent don't leak, that -rain is a kind of a nice thing to listen to itself. But if you can see -the stars you get to wondering more'n ever. They come out and they is -so many of them and they are so fur away, and yet they are so kind o' -friendly-like, too, if you happen to be feeling purty good. But if you -ain't feeling purty good, jest lay there and look at them stars long -enough; and then mebby you'll see it don't make no difference whether -you're feeling good or not, fur they got a way o' making your private -troubles look mighty small. And you get to wondering why that is, too, -fur they ain't human; and it don't stand to reason you orter pay no -attention to them, one way nor the other. They is jest there, like trees -and cricks and hills. But I have often noticed that the things that is -jest there has got a way of seeming more friendly than the things that -has been built and put there. You can look at a big iron bridge or a -grain elevator or a canal all day long, and if you're feeling blue it -don't help you none. It was jest put there. Or a hay stack is the same -way. But you go and lazy around in the grass when you're down on your -luck and kind o' make remarks to a crick or a big, old walnut tree, and -before long it gets you to feeling like it didn't make no difference -how you felt, anyhow; fur you don't amount to nothing by the side of -something that was always there. You get to thinking how the hull world -itself was always here, and you sort o' see they ain't nothing important -enough about yourself to worry about, and presently you will go to -sleep and forget it. The doctor says to me one time them stars ain't -any different from this world, and this is one of them. Which is a fool -idea, as any one can see. He had a lot of queer ideas like that, Doctor -Kirby had. But they ain't nothing like sleeping out of doors nights to -make you wonder the kind of wonderings you never will get any answer to. - -Well, I never cared so much fur houses after them days. They was bully -times, them was. And I was kind of proud of being with a show, too. -Many's the time I have went down the street in that there Injun suit, -and seen how the young fellers would of give all they owned to be me. -And every now and then you would hear one say when you went past: - -“Huh, I know him! That's one of them show fellers!” - -One afternoon we pitches our tent right on the edge of a little town -called Athens. We was nigh the bank of a crick, and they was a grove -there. We was camped jest outside of a wood-lot fence, and back in -through the trees from us they was a house with a hedge fence all around -it. They was apple trees and all kind of flower bushes and things inside -of the hedge. The second day we was there I takes a walk back through -the wood-lot, and along past the house, and they was one of these here -early harvest apple trees spilling apples through a gap in the fence. -Them is a mighty sweet and juicy kind of apple, and I picks one up and -bites into it. - -“I think you might have asked for it,” says some one. - - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -I looks up, and that was how I got acquainted with Martha. She was -eating one herself, setting up in the tree like a boy. In her lap was a -book she had been reading. She was leaning back into the fork two limbs -made so as not to tumble. - -“Well,” I says, “can I have one?” - -“You've eaten it already,” she says, “so there isn't any use begging for -it now.” - -I seen she was a tease, that girl, and I would of give anything to of -been able to tease her right back agin. But I couldn't think of nothing -to say, so I jest stands there kind o' dumb like, thinking what a dern -purty girl she was, and thinking how dumb I must look, and I felt my -face getting red. Doctor Kirby would of thought of something to say -right off. And after I got back to camp I would think of something -myself. But I couldn't think of nothing bright, so I says: - -“Well, then, you give me another one!” - -She gives the core of the one she has been eating a toss at me. But I -ketched it, and made like I was going to throw it back at her real hard. -She slung up her arm, and dodged back, and she dropped her book. - -I thinks to myself I'll learn that girl to get sassy and make me feel -like a dumb-head, even if she is purty. So I don't say a word. I jest -picks up that book and sticks it under my arm and walks away slow with -it to where they was a stump a little ways off, not fur from the crick, -and sets down with my back to her and opens it. And I was trying all the -time to think of something smart to say to her. But I couldn't of done -it if I was to be shot. Still, I thinks to myself, no girl can sass me -and not get sassed back, neither. - -I hearn a scramble behind me which I knowed was her getting out of that -tree. And in a minute she was in front of me, mad. - -“Give me my book,” she says. - -But I only reads the name of the book out loud, fur to aggervate her. I -had on purty good duds, but I kind of wisht I had on my Injun rig then. -You take the girls that always comes down to see the passenger train -come into the depot in them country towns and that Injun rig of mine and -Looey's always made 'em turn around and look at us agin. I never wisht -I had on them Injun duds so hard before in my life. But I couldn't think -of nothing bright to say, so I jest reads the name of that book over to -myself agin, kind o' grinning like I got a good joke I ain't going to -tell any one. - -“You give me my book,” she says agin, red as one of them harvest apples, -“or I'll tell Miss Hampton you stole it and she'll have you and your -show arrested.” - -I reads the name agin. It was “The Lost Heir.” I seen I had her good and -teased now, so I says: “It must be one of these here love stories by the -way you take on over it.” - -“It's not,” she says, getting ready to cry. “And what right have you got -in our wood-lot, anyhow?” - -“Well,” I says, “I was jest about to move on and climb out of it when -you hollered to me from that tree.” - -“I didn't!” she says. But she was mad because she knowed she _had_ spoke -to me first, and she was awful sorry she had. - -“I thought I hearn you holler,” I says, “but I guess it must of been a -squirrel.” I said it kind o' sarcastic like, fur I was still mad with -myself fur being so dumb when we first seen each other. I hadn't no idea -it would hurt her feelings as hard as it did. But all of a sudden she -begins to wink, and her chin trembled, and she turned around short, and -started to walk off slow. She was mad with herself fur being ketched in -a lie, and she was wondering what I would think of her fur being so bold -as to of spoke first to a feller she didn't know. - -I got up and follered her a little piece. And it come to me all to oncet -I had teased her too hard, and I was down on myself fur it. - -“Say,” I says, kind of tagging along beside of her, “here's your old -book.” - -But she didn't make no move to take it, and her hands was over her face, -and she wouldn't pull 'em down to even look at it. - -So I tried agin. - -“Well,” I says, feeling real mean, “I wisht you wouldn't cry. I didn't -go to make you do that.” - -She drops her hands and whirls around on me, mad as a wet hen right off. - -“I'm not! I'm not!” she sings out, and stamps her feet. “I'm not -crying!” But jest then she loses her holt on herself and busts out and -jest natcherally bellers. “I hate you!” she says, like she could of -killed me. - -That made me kind of dumb agin. Fur it come to me all to oncet I liked -that girl awful well. And here I'd up and made her hate me. I held the -book out to her agin and says: - -“Well, I'm mighty sorry fur that, fur I don't feel that-a-way about you -a-tall. Here's your book.” - -Well, sir, she snatches that book and she gives it a sling. I thought it -was going kersplash into the crick. But it didn't. It hit right into the -fork of a limb that hung down over the crick, and it all spread out when -it lit, and stuck in that crotch somehow. She couldn't of slung it that -way on purpose in a million years. We both stands and looks at it a -minute. - -“Oh, oh!” she says, “what have I done? It's out of the town library and -I'll have to pay for it.” - -“I'll get it fur you,” I says. But it wasn't no easy job. If I shook -that limb it would tumble into the crick. But I clumb the tree and eased -out on that limb as fur as I dast to. And, of course, jest as I got holt -of the book, that limb broke and I fell into the crick. But I had the -book. It was some soaked, but I reckoned it could still be read. - -I clumb out and she was jest splitting herself laughing at me. The -wet on her face where she had cried wasn't dried up yet, and she was -laughing right through it, kind o' like the sun does to one of these -here May rainstorms sometimes, and she was the purtiest girl I ever -seen. Gosh!--how I was getting to like that girl! And she told me I -looked like a drowned rat. - -Well, that was how Martha and me was interduced. She wasn't more'n -sixteen, and when she found out I was a orphan she was glad, fur she was -one herself. Which Miss Hampton that lived in that house had took her to -raise. And when I tells her how I been travelling around the country all -summer she claps her hands and she says: - -“Oh, you are on a quest! How romantic!” - -I asts her what is a quest. And she tells me. She knowed all about them, -fur Martha was considerable of a reader. Some of them was longer and -some of them was shorter, them quests, but mostly, Martha says, they was -fur a twelvemonth and a day. And then you are released from your vow -and one of these here queens gives you a whack over the shoulder with a -sword and says: “Arise, Sir Marmeluke, I dub you a night.” And then it -is legal fur you to go out and rescue people and reform them and spear -them if they don't see things your way, and come between husband and -wife when they row, and do a heap of good in the world. Well, they was -other kind of quests too, but mostly you married somebody, or was dubbed -a night, or found the party you was looking fur, in the end. And Martha -had it all fixed up in her own mind I was in a quest to find my father. -Fur, says she, he is purty certain to be a powerful rich man and more'n -likely a earl. - -[Illustration: 0105] - -The way I was found, Martha says, kind o' pints to the idea they was a -earl mixed up in it somewhere. She had read a lot about earls, and knew -their ways. Mebby my mother was a earl's daughter. Earl's daughters is -the worst fur leaving you out in baskets, going by what Martha said. It -is a kind of a habit with them, fur they is awful proud people. But it -was a lucky way to start life, from all she said, that basket way. There -was Moses was left out that way, and when he growed up he was made a -kind of a president of the hull human race, the same as Ruzevelt, and -figgered out the twelve commandments. Martha would of give anything if -she could of only been found in a basket like me, I could see that. But -she wasn't. She had jest been left a orphan when her folks died. They -wasn't even no hopes she had been changed at birth fur another one. But -I seen down in under everything Martha kind o' thought mebby one of them -nights might come a-prancing along and wed her in spite of herself, or -she would be carried off, or something. She was a very romanceful kind -of girl. - -When I seen she had it figgered out I was in a quest fur some -high-mucky-muck fur a dad, I didn't tell her no different. I didn't take -much stock in them earls and nights myself. So fur as I could see they -was all furriners of one kind or another. But that thing of being into a -quest kind of interested me, too. - -“How would I know him if I was to run acrost him?” I asts her. - -“You would feel an Intangible Something,” she says, “drawing you toward -him.” - -I asts her what kind of a something. I make out from what she says it is -some like these fellers that can find water with a piece of witch hazel -switch. You take a switch of it between your thumbs and point it up. -Then you shut your eyes and walk backwards. When you get over where the -water is the witch hazel stick twists around and points to the ground. -You dig there and you get a good well. Nobody knows jest why that -stick is drawed to the ground. It is like one of these little whirlygig -compasses is drawed to the north. It is the same, Martha says, if you is -on a quest fur a father or a mother, only you have got to be worthy of -that there quest, she says. The first time you meet the right one you -are drawed jest like the witch hazel. That is the Intangible Something -working on you, she says. Martha had learnt a lot about that. The book -that had fell in the crick was like that. She lent it to me. - -Well, that all sounded kind of reasonable to me. I seen that witch hazel -work myself. Old Blindy Wolfe, whose eyes had been dead fur so many -years they had turned plumb white, had that gift, and picked out all the -places fur wells that was dug in our neighbourhood at home. And I makes -up my mind I will watch out fur that feeling of being drawed wherever I -goes after this. You can't tell what will come of them kind of things. -So purty soon Martha has to milk the cow, and I goes along back to camp -thinking about that quest and about what a purty girl she is, which we -had set there talking so long it was nigh sundown and my clothes had -dried onto me. - -When I got over to camp I seen they must be something wrong. Looey was -setting in the grass under the wagon looking kind of sour and kind of -worried and watching the doctor. The doctor was jest inside the tent, -and he was looking queer too, and not cheerful, which he was usually. - -The doctor looks at me like he don't skeercly know me. Which he don't. -He has one of them quiet kind of drunks on. Which Looey explains is -bound to come every so often. He don't do nothing mean, but jest gets -low-sperrited and won't talk to no one. Then all of a sudden he will go -down town and walk up and down the main streets, orderly, but looking -hard into people's faces, mostly women's faces. Oncet, Looey says, they -was big trouble over it. They was in a store in a good-sized town, and -he took hold of a woman's chin, and tilted her face back, and looked at -her hard, and most scared her to death, and they was nearly being a riot -there. And he was jailed and had to pay a big fine. Since then Looey -always follers him around when he is that-a-way. - -Well, that night Doctor Kirby is too fur gone fur us to have our show. -He jest sets and stares and stares at the fire, and his eyes looks like -they is another fire inside of his head, and he is hurting outside and -in. Looey and me watches him from the shadders fur a long time before -we turns in, and the last thing I seen before I went to sleep was him -setting there with his face in his hands, staring, and his lips moving -now and then like he was talking to himself. - -The next day he is asleep all morning. But that day he don't drink -any more, and Looey says mebby it ain't going to be one of the reg'lar -pifflicated kind. I seen Martha agin that day, too--twicet I has talks -with her. I told her about the doctor. - -“Is he into a quest, do you think?” I asts her. - -She says she thinks it is remorse fur some crime he has done. But I -couldn't figger Doctor Kirby would of done none. So that night after the -show I says to him, innocent-like: - -“Doctor Kirby, what is a quest?” He looks at me kind of queer. - -“Wherefore,” says he, “this sudden thirst for enlightenment?” - -“I jest run acrost the word accidental-like,” I told him. - -He looks at me awful hard, his eyes jest natcherally digging into me. -I felt like he knowed I had set out to pump him. I wisht I hadn't tried -it. Then he tells me a quest is a hunt. And I'm glad that's over with. -But it ain't. Fur purty soon he says: - -“Danny, did you ever hear of Lady Clara Vere de Vere?” - -“No,” I says, “who is she?” - -“A lady friend of Lord Tennyson's,” he says, “whose manners were above -reproach.” - -“Well,” I says, “she sounds kind of like a medicine to me.” - -“Lady Clara,” he says, “and all the other Vere de Veres, were people -with manners we should try to imitate. If Lady Clara had been here last -night when I was talking to myself, Danny, her manners wouldn't have let -her listen to what I was talking about.” - -“I didn't listen!” I says. Fur I seen what he was driving at now with -them Vere de Veres. He thought I had ast him what a quest was because he -was on one. I was certain of that, now. He wasn't quite sure what he had -been talking about, and he wanted to see how much I had hearn. I thinks -to myself it must be a awful funny kind of hunt he is on, if he only -hunts when he is in that fix. But I acted real innocent and like my -feelings was hurt, and he believed me. Purty soon he says, cheerful -like: - -“There was a girl talking to you to-day, Danny.” - -“Mebby they was,” I says, “and mebby they wasn't.” But I felt my face -getting red all the same, and was mad because it did. He grinned kind of -aggervating at me and says some poetry at me about in the spring a young -man's frenzy likely turns to thoughts of love. - -“Well,” I says, kind of sheepish-like, “this is summer-time, and purty -nigh autumn.” Then I seen I'd jest as good as owned up I liked Martha, -and was kind of mad at myself fur that. But I told him some more about -her, too. Somehow I jest couldn't help it. He laughs at me and goes on -into the tent. - -I laid there and looked at the fire fur quite a spell, outside the tent. -I was thinking, if all them tales wasn't jest dern foolishness, how I -wisht I would really find a dad that was a high-muckymuck and could come -back in an automobile and take her away. I laid there fur a long, long -time; it must of been fur a couple of hours. I supposed the doctor had -went to sleep. - -But all of a sudden I looks up, and he is in the door of the tent -staring at me. I seen he had been in there at it hard agin, and -thinking, quiet-like, all this time. He stood there in the doorway of -the tent, with the firelight onto his face and his red beard, and his -arms stretched out, holding to the canvas and looking at me strange and -wild. Then he moved his hand up and down at me, and he says: - -“If she's fool enough to love you, treat her well--treat her well. For -if you don't, you can never run away from the hell you'll carry in your -own heart.” - -And he kind of doubled up and pitched forward when he said that, and -if I hadn't ketched him he would of fell right acrost the fire. He was -plumb pifflicated. - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -Martha wouldn't of took anything fur being around Miss Hampton, she -said. Miss Hampton was kind of quiet and sweet and pale looking, and -nobody ever thought of talking loud or raising any fuss when she was -around. She had enough money of her own to run herself on, and she kep' -to herself a good deal. She had come to that town from no one knowed -where, years ago, and bought that place. Fur all of her being so gentle -and easy and talking with one of them soft, drawly kind of voices, -Martha says, no one had ever dared to ast her about herself, though they -was a lot of women in that town that was wishful to. - -But Martha said she knowed what Miss Hampton's secret was, and she -hadn't told no one, neither. Which she told me, and all the promising I -done about not telling would of made the cold chills run up your back, -it was so solemn. Miss Hampton had been jilted years ago, Martha said, -and the name of the jilter was David Armstrong. Well, he must of been -a low down sort of man. Martha said if things was only fixed in this -country like they ought to be, she would of sent a night to find that -David Armstrong. And that would of ended up in a mortal combat, and the -night would have cleaved him. - -“Yes,” says I, “and then you would of married that there night, I -suppose.” - -She says she would of. - -“Well,” says I, “mebby you would of and mebby you wouldn't of. If he -cleaved David Armstrong, that night would likely be arrested fur it.” - -Martha says if he was she would wait outside his dungeon keep fur years -and years, till she was a old woman with gray in her hair, and every day -they would give lingering looks at each other through the window bars. -And they would be happy thata-way. And she would get her a white dove -and train it so it would fly up to that window and take in notes to him, -and he would send notes back that-away, and they would both be awful sad -and romanceful and contented doing that-a-way fur ever and ever. - -Well, I never took no stock in them mournful ways of being happy. I -couldn't of riz up to being a night fur Martha. She expected too much of -one. I thought it over fur a little spell without saying anything, and -I tried to make myself believe I would of liked all that dove business. -But it wasn't no use pertending. I knowed I would get tired of it. - -“Martha,” I says, “mebby these here nights is all right, and mebby they -ain't. I never seen one, and I don't know. And, mind you, I ain't saying -a word agin their way of acting. I can't say how I would of been myself, -if I had been brung up like them. But it looks to me, from some of the -things you've said about 'em, they must have a dern fool streak in 'em -somewheres.” - -I was kind of jealous of them nights, I guess, or I wouldn't of run 'em -down that-a-way behind their backs. But the way she was always taking on -over them was calkelated to make me see I wasn't knee-high to a duck in -Martha's mind when one of them nights popped into her head. When I run -'em down that-a-way, she says to the blind all things is blind, and if I -had any chivalry into me myself I'd of seen they wasn't jest dern fools, -but noble, and seen it easy. And she sighed, like she'd looked fur -better things from me. When I hearn her do that I felt sorry I hadn't -come up to her expectances. So I says: - -“Martha, it's no use pertending I could stay in one of them jails and -keep happy at it. I got to be outdoors. But I tell you what I can do, -if it will make you feel any better. If I ever happen to run acrost this -here David Armstrong, and he is anywheres near my size, I'll lick him -fur you. And if he's too hefty fur me to lick him fair,” I says, “and -I get a good chancet I will hit him with a piece of railroad iron fur -you.” - -Of course, I knowed I would never find him. But what I said seemed to -brighten her up a little. - -“But,” says I, “if I went too fur with it, and was hung fur it, how -would you feel then, Martha?” - -Well, sir, that didn't jar Martha none. She looked kind of dreamy and -said mebby she would go and jine a convent and be a nun. And when she -got to be the head nun she would build a chapel over the tomb where I -was buried in. And every year, on the day of the month I was hung on, -she would lead all the other nuns into that chapel, and the organ would -play mournful, and each nun as passed would lay down a bunch of white -roses onto my tomb. I reckon that orter made me feel good, but somehow -it didn't. - -So I changed the subject, and asts her why I ain't seen Miss Hampton -around the place none. Martha says she has a bad sick headache and ain't -been outside the house fur four or five days. I asts her why she don't -wait on her. But she don't want her to, Martha says. She's been staying -in the house ever since we been in town, and jest wants to be let alone. -I thinks all that is kind of funny. And then I seen from the way Martha -is answering my questions that she is holding back something she would -like to tell, but don't think she orter tell. I leaves her alone and -purty soon she says: - -“Do you believe in ghosts?” - -I tell her sometimes I think I don't believe in 'em, and sometimes I -think I do, but anyhow I would hate to see one. I asts her why does she -ast. - -“Because,” she says, “because--but I hadn't ought to tell you.” - -“It's daylight,” I says; “it's no use being scared to tell now.” - -“It ain't that,” she says, “but it's a secret.” - -When she said it was a secret, I knowed she would tell. Martha liked -having her friends help her to keep a secret. - -“I think Miss Hampton has seen one,” she says, finally, “and that her -staying indoors has something to do with that.” - -Then she tells me. The night of the day after we camped there, her and -Miss Hampton was out fur a walk. We didn't have any show that night. -They passed right by our camp, and they seen us there by the fire, all -three of us. But they was in the road in the dark, and we was all in the -light, so none of the three of us seen them. Miss Hampton was kind of -scared of us, first glance, fur she gasped and grabbed holt of Martha's -arm all of a sudden so tight she pinched it. Which it was very natcheral -that she would be startled, coming across three strange men all of a -sudden at night around a turn in the road. They went along home, and -Martha went inside and lighted a lamp, but Miss Hampton lingered on the -porch fur a minute. Jest as she lit the lamp Martha hearn another little -gasp, or kind of sigh, from Miss Hampton out there on the porch. Then -they was the sound of her falling down. Martha ran out with the lamp, -and she was laying there. She had fainted and keeled over. Martha said -jest in the minute she had left her alone on the porch was when Miss -Hampton must of seen the ghost. Martha brung her to, and she was looking -puzzled and wild-like both to oncet. Martha asts her what is the matter. - -“Nothing,” she says, rubbing her fingers over her forehead in a helpless -kind of way, “nothing.” - -“You look like you had seen a ghost,” Martha tells her. - -Miss Hampton looks at Martha awful funny, and then she says mebby she -_has_ seen a ghost, and goes along upstairs to bed. And since then she -ain't been out of the house. She tells Martha it is a sick headache, but -Martha says she knows it ain't. She thinks she is scared of something. - -“Scared?” I says. “She wouldn't see no more ghosts in the daytime.” - -Martha says how do I know she wouldn't? She knows a lot about ghosts of -all kinds, Martha does. - -Horses and dogs can see them easier than humans, even in the daytime, -and it makes their hair stand up when they do. But some humans that have -the gift can see them in the daytime like an animal. And Martha asts me -how can I tell but Miss Hampton is like that? - -“Well, then,” I says, “she must be a witch. And if she is a witch why is -she scared of them a-tall?” - -But Martha says if you have second sight you don't need to be a witch to -see them in the daytime. - -Well, you can never tell about them ghosts. Some says one thing and some -says another. Old Mis' Primrose, in our town, she always believed in 'em -firm till her husband died. When he was dying they fixed it up he was -to come back and visit her. She told him he had to, and he promised. And -she left the front door open fur him night after night fur nigh a year, -in all kinds of weather; but Primrose never come. Mis' Primrose says he -never lied to her, and he always done jest as she told him, and if he -could of come she knowed he would; and when he didn't she quit believing -in ghosts. But they was others in our town said it didn't prove nothing -at all. They said Primrose had really been lying to her all his life, -because she was so bossy he had to lie to keep peace in the fambly, -and she never ketched on. Well, if I was a ghost and had of been Mis' -Primrose's husband when I was a human, I wouldn't of come back neither, -even if she had of bully-ragged me into one of them death-bed promises. -I guess Primrose figgered he had earnt a rest. - -If they is ghosts, what comfort they can get out of coming back where -they ain't wanted and scaring folks is more'n I can see. It's kind of -low down, I think, and foolish too. Them kind of ghosts is like these -here overgrown smart alecs that scares kids. They think they are mighty -cute, but they ain't. They are jest foolish. A human, or a ghost either, -that does things like that is jest simply got no principle to him. I -hearn a lot of talk about 'em, first and last, and I ain't ready to say -they ain't no ghosts, nor yet ready to say they is any. To say they is -any is to say something that is too plumb unlikely. And too many people -has saw them fur me to say they ain't any. But if they is, or they -ain't, so fur as I can see, it don't make much difference. Fur they -never do nothing, besides scaring you, except to rap on tables and tell -fortunes, and such fool things. Which a human can do it all better and -save the expense of paying money to one of these here sperrit mediums -that travels around and makes 'em perform. But all the same they has -been nights I has felt different about 'em myself, and less hasty to run -'em down. Well, it don't do no good to speak harsh of no one, not even a -ghost or a ordinary dead man, and if I was to see a ghost, mebby I would -be all the scareder fur what I have jest wrote. - -Well, with all the talking back and forth we done about them ghosts we -couldn't agree. That afternoon it seemed like we couldn't agree about -anything. I knowed we would be going away from there before long, and I -says to myself before I go I'm going to have that girl fur my girl, or -else know the reason why. No matter what I was talking about, that idea -was in the back of my head, and somehow it kind of made me want to -pick fusses with her, too. We was setting on a log, purty deep into the -woods, and there come a time when neither of us had said nothing fur -quite a spell. But after a while I says: - -“Martha, we'll be going away from here in two, three days now.” - -She never said nothing. - -“Will you be sorry?” I asts her. - -She says she will be sorry. - -“Well,” I says, “_why_ will you be sorry?” - -I thought she would say because _I_ was going. And then I would be -finding out whether she liked me a lot. But she says the reason she will -be sorry is because there will be no one new to talk to about things -both has read. I was considerable took down when she said that. - -“Martha,” I says, “it's more'n likely I won't never see you agin after I -go away.” - -She says that kind of parting comes between the best of friends. - -I seen I wasn't getting along very fast, nor saying what I wanted to -say. I reckon one of them Sir Marmeluke fellers would of knowed what to -say. Or Doctor Kirby would. Or mebby even Looey would of said it better -than I could. So I was kind of mad with myself, and I says, mean-like: - -“If you don't care, of course, I don't care, neither.” - -She never answered that, so I gets up and makes like I am starting off. - -“I was going to give you some of them there Injun feathers of mine to -remember me by,” I tells her, “but if you don't want 'em, there's plenty -of others would be glad to take 'em.” - -But she says she would like to have them. - -“Well,” I says, “I will bring them to you tomorrow afternoon.” - -She says, “Thank you.” - -Finally I couldn't stand it no longer. I got brave all of a sudden, and -busted out: “Martha, I--I--I--” - -But I got to stuttering, and my braveness stuttered itself away. And I -finishes up by saying: - -“I like you a hull lot, Martha.” Which wasn't jest exactly what I had -planned fur to say. - -Martha, she says she kind of likes me, too. - -“Martha,” I says, “I like you more'n any girl I ever run acrost before.” - -She says, “Thank you,” agin. The way she said it riled me up. She said -it like she didn't know what I meant, nor what I was trying to get out -of me. But she did know all the time. I knowed she did. She knowed I -knowed it, too. Gosh-dern it, I says to myself, here I am wasting all -this time jest _talking_ to her. The right thing to do come to me all of -a sudden, and like to took my breath away. But I done it. I grabbed her -and I kissed her. - -Twice. And then agin. Because the first was on the chin on account of -her jerking her head back. And the second one she didn't help me none. -But the third time she helped me a little. And the ones after that she -helped me considerable. - -Well, they ain't no use trying to talk about the rest of that afternoon. -I couldn't rightly describe it if I wanted to. And I reckon it's none of -anybody's business. - -Well, it makes you feel kind of funny. You want to go out and pick on -somebody about four sizes bigger'n you are and knock the socks off'n -him. It stands to reason others has felt that-a-way, but you don't -believe it. You want to tell people about it one minute. The next minute -you have got chills and ague fur fear some one will guess it. And you -think the way you are about her is going to last fur always. - -That evening, when I was cooking supper, I laughed every time I was -spoke to. When Looey and I was hitching up to drive down town to give -the show, one of the hosses stepped on his foot and I laughed at that, -and there was purty nigh a fight. And I was handling some bottles and -broke one and cut my hand on a piece of glass. I held it out fur a -minute dumb-like, with the blood and medicine dripping off of it, and -all of a sudden I busted out laughing agin. The doctor asts if I am -crazy. And Looey says he has thought I was from the very first, and some -night him and the doctor will be killed whilst asleep. One of the things -we have every night in the show is an Injun dance, and Looey and I sings -what the doctor calls the Siwash war chant, whirling round and round -each other, and making licks at each other with our tommyhawks, and -letting out sudden wild yips in the midst of that chant. That night I -like to of killed Looey with that tommyhawk, I was feeling so good. If -it had been a real one, instead of painted-up wood, I would of killed -Looey, the lick I give him. The worst part of that was that, after the -show, when we got back to camp and the hosses was picketed out fur the -night, I had to tell Looey all about how I felt fur an explanation of -why I hit him. - -[Illustration: 0127] - -Which it made Looey right low in his sperrits, and he shakes his head -and says no good will come of it. - -“Did you ever hear of Romeo and Joliet?” he says: - -“Mebby,” I says, “but what it was I hearn I can't remember. What about -them?” - -“Well,” he says, “they carried on the same as you. And now where are -they?” - -“Well,” I says, “where are they?” - -“In the tomb,” says Looey, very sad, like they was closte personal -friends of his'n. And he told me all about them and how Young Cobalt had -done fur them. But from what I could make out it all happened away back -in the early days. And shucks!--I didn't care a dern, anyhow. I told him -so. - -“Well,” he says, “It's been the history of the world that it brings -trouble.” And he says to look at Damon and Pythias, and Othello and the -Merchant of Venus. And he named about a hundred prominent couples like -that out of Shakespeare's works. - -“But it ends happy sometimes,” I says. - -“Not when it is true love it don't,” says Looey. “Look at Anthony and -Cleopatra.” - -“Yes,” I says, sarcastic like, “I suppose they are in the tomb, too?” - -“They are,” says Looey, awful solemn. - -“Yes,” I says, “and so is Adam and Eve and Dan and Burrsheba and all -the rest of them old-timers. But I bet they had a good time while they -lasted.” - -Looey shakes his head solemn and sighs and goes to sleep very mournful, -like he has to give me up fur lost. But I can't sleep none myself. -So purty soon I gets up and puts on my shoes and sneaks through the -wood-lot and through the gap in the fence by the apple tree and into -Miss Hampton's yard. - -It was a beauty of a moonlight night, that white and clear and clean you -could almost see to read by it, like all of everything had been scoured -as bright as the bottom of a tin pan. And the shadders was soft and -thick and velvety and laid kind of brownish-greeney on the grass. I -flopped down in the shadder of some lilac bushes and wondered which was -Martha's window. I knowed she would be in bed long ago, but---- Well, I -was jest plumb foolish that night, and I couldn't of kept away fur any -money. That moonlight had got into my head, it seemed like, and made -me drunk. But I would rather be looney that-a-way than to have as much -sense as King Solomon and all his adverbs. I was that looney that if I -had knowed any poetry I would of said it out loud, right up toward that -window. I never knowed why poetry was made up before that night. But the -only poetry I could think of was about there was a man named Furgeson -that lived on Market Street, and he had a one-eyed Thomas cat that -couldn't well be beat. Which it didn't seem to fit the case, so I didn't -say her. - -The porch of that house was part covered with vines, but they was kind -of gaped apart at one corner. As I laid there in the shadder of the -bushes I hearn a fluttering movement, light and gentle, on that porch. -Then, all of a sudden, I seen some one standing on the edge of the porch -where the vines was gaped apart, and the moonlight was falling onto -them. They must of come there awful soft and still. Whoever it was -couldn't see into the shadder where I laid, that is, if it was a human -and not a ghost. Fur my first thought was it might be one of them ghosts -I had been running down so that very day, and mebby the same one Miss -Hampton seen on that very same porch. I thought I was in fur it then, -mebby, and I felt like some one had whispered to the back of my neck -it ought to be scared. And I _was_ scared clean up into my hair. I stared -hard, fur I couldn't take my eyes away. Then purty soon I seen if it was -a ghost it must be a woman ghost. Fur it was dressed in light-coloured -clothes that moved jest a little in the breeze, and the clothes was so -near the colour of the moonlight they seemed to kind of silver into -it. You would of said it had jest floated there, and was waiting fur to -float away agin when the breeze blowed a little stronger, or the moon -drawed it. - -It didn't move fur ever so long. Then it leaned forward through the gap -in the vines, and I seen the face real plain. It wasn't no ghost, it was -a lady. Then I knowed it must be Miss Hampton standing there. Away off -through the trees our camp fire sent up jest a dull kind of a glow. She -was standing there looking at that. I wondered why. - - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -The next day we broke camp and was gone from that place, and I took away -with me the half of a ring me and Martha had chopped in two. We kept on -going, and by the time punkins and county fairs was getting ripe we was -into the upper left-hand corner of Ohio. And there Looey left us. - -One day Doctor Kirby and me was walking along the main street of a -little town and we seen a bang-up funeral percession coming. It must of -been one of the Grand Army of the Republicans, fur they was some of the -old soldiers in buggies riding along behind, and a big string of people -follering in more buggies and some on foot. Everybody was looking mighty -sollum. But they was one man setting beside the undertaker on the seat -of the hearse that was looking sollumer than them all. It was Looey, and -I'll bet the corpse himself would of felt proud and happy and contented -if he could of knowed the style Looey was giving that funeral. - -It wasn't nothing Looey done, fur he didn't do nothing but jest set -there with his arms folded onto his bosom and look sad. But he done _that_ -better than any one else. He done it so well that you forgot the corpse -was the chief party to that funeral. Looey took all the glory from him. -He had jest natcherally stole that funeral away from its rightful owner -with his enjoyment of it. He seen the doctor and me as the hearse went -by our corner, but he never let on. A couple of hours later Looey comes -into camp and says he is going to quit. - -The doctor asts him if he has inherited money. - -“No,” says Looey, “but my aunt has given me a chancet to go into -business.” - -Looey says he was born nigh there, and was prowling around town the day -before and run acrost an old aunt of his'n he had forgot all about. -She is awful respectable and religious and ashamed of him being into -a travelling show. And she has offered to lend him enough to buy a -half-share in a business. - -“Well,” says the doctor, “I hope it will be something you are fitted -for and will enjoy. But I've noticed that after a man gets the habit of -roaming around this terrestial ball it's mighty hard to settle down and -watch his vine and fig tree grow.” - -Looey smiles in a sad sort of a way, which he seldom smiled fur -anything, and says he guesses he'll like the business. He says they -ain't many businesses he could take to. Most of them makes you forget -this world is but a fleeting show. But he has found a business which -keeps you reminded all the time that dust is dust and ash to ashes shalt -return. When he first went into the medicine business, he said, he was -drawed to it by the diseases and the sudden dyings-off it always kept -him in mind of. He thought they wasn't no other business could lay over -it fur that kind of comfort. But he has found out his mistake. - -“What kind of business are you going into?” asts the doctor. - -“I am going to be an undertaker,” says Looey. “My aunt says this town -needs the right kind of an undertaker bad.” - -Mr. Wilcox, the undertaker that town has, is getting purty old and -shaky, Looey says, and young Mr. Wilcox, his son, is too light-minded -and goes at things too brisk and airy to give it the right kind of a -send-off. People don't want him joking around their corpses and he is -a fat young man and can't help making puns even in the presence of the -departed. Old Mr. Wilcox's eyesight is getting so poor he made a scandal -in that town only the week before. He was composing a departed's face -into a last smile, but he went too fur with it, and give the departed -one of them awful mean, devilish kind of grins, like he had died with -a bad temper on. By the time the departed's fambly had found it out, -things had went too fur, and the face had set that-a-way, so it wasn't -safe to try to change it any. - -Old Mr. Wilcox had several brands of last looks. One was called: -“Bear Up, for We Will Meet Again.” The one that had went wrong was his -favourite look, named: “O Death, Where is Thy Victory?” - -Looey's aunt says she will buy him a partnership if she is satisfied he -can fill the town's needs. They have a talk with the Wilcoxes, and he -rides on the hearse that day fur a try-out. His aunt peeks out behind -her bedroom curtains as the percession goes by her house, and when she -sees the style Looey is giving to that funeral, and how easy it comes -to him, that settles it with her on the spot. And it seems the hull dern -town liked it, too, including the departed's fambly. - -Looey says they is a lot of chancet fur improvements in the undertaking -game by one whose heart is in his work, and he is going into that -business to make a success of it, and try and get all the funeral trade -fur miles around. He reads us an advertisement of the new firm he has -been figgering out fur that town's weekly paper. I cut a copy out when -it was printed, and it is about the genteelest thing like that I even -seen, as follers: - -[Illustration: 0136] - - -WILCOX AND SIMMS Invite Your Patronage - -This earth is but a fleeting show, and the blank-winged angels wait for -all. It is always a satisfaction to remember that all possible has been -done for the deceased. - - See Our New Line of Coffins - Lined Caskets a Specialty - Lodge Work Solicited - -Time and tide wait for no man, and his days are few and full of -troubles. The paths of glory lead but to the grave, and none can tell -when mortal feet may stumble. - -When in Town Drop in and Inspect Our New Embalming Outfit. It is a -Pleasure to Show Goods and Tools Even if Your Family Needs no Work Done -Just Yet. - -Outfits for mourners who have been bereaved on short notice a specialty. -We take orders for tombstones. Look at our line of shrouds, robes, and -black suits for either sex and any age. Give us just one call, and you -will entrust future embalmings and obsequies in your family to no other -firm. - -WILCOX AND SIMMS Main Street, Near Depot - - -The doctor, he reads it over careful and says she orter drum up trade, -all right. Looey tells us that mebby, if he can get that town educated -up to it, he will put in a creamatory, where he will burn them, too, but -will go slow, fur that there sollum and beautiful way of returning ash -to ashes might make some prejudice in such a religious town. - -The last we seen of Looey was a couple of days later when we told him -good-bye in his shop. Old Mr. Wilcox was explaining to him the science -of them last looks he was so famous at when he was a younger man. Young -Mr. Wilcox was laying on a table fur Looey to practise on, and Looey was -learning fast. But he nearly broke down when he said good-bye, fur he -liked the doctor. - -“Doc,” he says, “you've been a good friend, and I won't never forget -you. They ain't much I can do, and in this deceitful world words is less -than actions. But if you ever was to die within a hundred miles of me, -I'd go,” he says, “and no other hands but mine should lay you out. And -it wouldn't cost you a cent, either. Nor you neither, Danny.” - -We thanked him kindly fur the offer, and went. - -The next town we come to there was a county fair, and the doctor run -acrost an old pal of his'n who had a show on the grounds and wanted to -hire him fur what he called a ballyhoo man. Which was the first I ever -hearn them called that, but I got better acquainted with them since. -They are the fellers that stands out in front and gets you all excited -about the Siamese twins or the bearded lady or the snake-charmer or the -Circassian beauties or whatever it is inside the tent, as represented -upon the canvas. The doctor says he will do it fur a week, jest fur fun, -and mebby pick up another feller to take Looey's place out there. - -This feller's name is Watty Sanders, and his wife is a fat lady in his -own show and very good-natured when not intoxicated nor mad at Watty. She -was billed on the curtains outside fur five hundred and fifty pounds, -and Watty says she really does weigh nigh on to four hundred. But being -a fat lady's husband ain't no bed of rosy ease at that, Watty tells -the doctor. It's like every other trade--it has its own pertic'ler -responsibilities and troubles. She is a turrible expense to Watty on -account of eating so much. The tales that feller told of how hard he -has to hustle showing her off in order to support her appetite would of -drawed tears from a pawnbroker's sign, as Doctor Kirby says. Which he -found it cheaper fur his hull show to board and sleep in the tent, and -we done likewise. - -Well, I got a job with that show myself. Watty had a wild man canvas -but no wild man, so he made me an offer and I took him up. I was from -Borneo, where they're all supposed to be captured. Jest as Doctor Kirby -would get to his talk about how the wild man had been ketched after -great struggle and expense, with four men killed and another crippled, -there would be an awful rumpus on the inside of the tent, with wild -howlings and the sound of revolvers shot off and a woman screaming. Then -I would come busting out all blacked up from head to heel with no more -clothes on than the law pervided fur, yipping loud and shaking a big -spear and rolling my eyes, and Watty would come rushing after me firing -his revolver. I would make fur the doctor and draw my spear back to jab -it clean through him, and Watty would grab my arm. And the doctor would -whirl round and they would wrastle me to the ground and I would be -handcuffed and dragged back into the tent, still howling and struggling -to break loose. On the inside my part of the show was to be wild in a -cage. I would be chained to the floor, and every now and then I would -get wilder and rattle my chains and shake the bars and make jumps at the -crowd and carry on, and make believe I was too mad to eat the pieces of -raw meat Watty throwed into the cage. - -Watty had a snake-charmer woman, with an awful long, bony kind of neck, -working fur him, and another feller that was her husband and eat glass. -The show opened up with them two doing what they said was a comic turn. -Then the fat lady come on. Whilst everybody was admiring her size, and -looking at the number of pounds on them big cheat scales Watty weighed -her on, the long-necked one would be changing to her snake clothes. -Which she only had one snake, and he had been in the business so long, -and was so kind of worn out and tired with being charmed so much, it -always seemed like a pity to me the way she would take and twist him -around. I guess they never was a snake was worked harder fur the little -bit he got to eat, nor got no sicker of a woman's society than poor old -Reginald did. After Reginald had been charmed a while, it would be the -glass eater's turn. Which he really eat it, and the doctor says that -kind always dies before they is fifty. I never knowed his right name, -but what he went by was The Human Ostrich. - -Watty's wife was awful jealous of Mrs. Ostrich, fur she got the idea -she was carrying on with Watty. One night I hearn an argument from the -fenced-off part of the tent Watty and his wife slept in. She was setting -on Watty's chest and he was gasping fur mercy. - -“You know it ain't true,” says Watty, kind of smothered-like. - -“It is,” says she, “you own up it is!” And she give him a jounce. - -“No, darling,” he gets out of him, “you know I never could bear them -thin, scrawny kind of women.” And he begins to call her pet names of -all kinds and beg her please, if she won't get off complete, to set -somewheres else a minute, fur his chest he can feel giving way, and his -ribs caving in. He called her his plump little woman three or four -times and she must of softened up some, fur she moved and his voice come -stronger, but not less meek and lowly. And he follers it up: - -“Dolly, darling,” he says, “I bet I know something my little woman don't -know.” - -“What is it?” the fat lady asts him. - -[Illustration: 0143] - -“You don't know what a cruel, weak stomach your hubby has got,” Watty -says, awful coaxing like, “or you wouldn't bear down quite so hard onto -it--please, Dolly!” - -She begins to blubber and say he is making fun of her big size, and if -he is mean to her any more or ever looks at another woman agin she will -take anti-fat and fade away to nothing and ruin his show, and it is -awful hard to be made a joke of all her life and not have no steady home -nor nothing like other women does. - -“You know I worship every pound of you, little woman,” says Watty, -still coaxing. “Why can't you trust me? You know, Dolly, darling, I -wouldn't take your weight in gold for you.” And he tells her they never -was but once in all his life he has so much as turned his head to look -at another woman, and that was by way of a plutonic admiration, and no -flirting intended, he says. And even then it was before he had met his -own little woman. And that other woman, he says, was plump too, fur he -wouldn't never look at none but a plump woman. - -“What did she weigh?” asts Watty's wife. He tells her a measly little -three hundred pound. - -“But she wasn't refined like my little woman,” says Watty, “and when I -seen that I passed her up.” And inch by inch Watty coaxed her clean off -of him. - -But the next day she hearn him and Mrs. Ostrich giggling about -something, and she has a reg'lar tantrum, and jest fur meanness goes out -and falls down on the race track, pertending she has fainted, and they -can't move her no ways, not even roll her. But finally they rousted her -out of that by one of these here sprinkling carts backing up agin her -and turning loose. - -But aside from them occasional mean streaks Dolly was real nice, and I -kind of got to liking her. She tells me that because she is so fat no -one won't take her serious like a human being, and she wisht she was -like other women and had a fambly. That woman wanted a baby, too, and I -bet she would of been good to it, fur she was awful good to animals. She -had been big from a little girl, and never got no sympathy when sick, -nor nothing, and even whilst she played with dolls as a kid she knowed -she looked ridiculous, and was laughed at. And by jings!--they was -the funniest thing come to light before we left that crowd. That poor, -derned, old, fat fool _had_ a doll yet, all hid away, and when she was -alone she used to take it out and cuddle it. Well, Dolly never had many -friends, and you couldn't blame her much if she did drink a little too -much now and then, or get mad at Watty fur his goings-on and kneel down -on him whilst he was asleep. Them was her only faults and I liked the -old girl. Yet I could see Watty had his troubles too. - -That show busted up before the fair closed. Fur one day Watty's wife -gets mad at Mrs. Ostrich and tries to set on her. And then Mrs. Ostrich -gets mad too, and sicks Reginald onto her. Watty's wife is awful scared -of Reginald, who don't really have ambition enough to bite no one, let -alone a lady built so round everywhere he couldn't of got a grip on her. -And as fur as wrapping himself around her and squashing her to death, -Reginald never seen the day he could reach that fur. Reginald's feelings -is plumb friendly toward Dolly when he is turned loose, but she don't -know that, and she has some hysterics and faints in earnest this time. -Well, they was an awful hullaballo when she come to, and fur the sake of -peace in the fambly Watty has to fire Mr. and Mrs. Ostrich and poor old -Reginald out of their jobs, and the show is busted. So Doctor Kirby and -me lit out fur other parts agin. - - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -We was jogging along one afternoon not fur from a good-sized town at the -top of Ohio, right on the lake, when we run acrost some remainders of -a busted circus riding in a stake and chain wagon. They was two -fellers--both jugglers, acrobats, and tumblers--and a balloon. The -circus had busted without paying them nothing but promises fur months -and months, and they had took the team and wagon and balloon by -attachment, they said. They was carting her from the little burg the -show busted in to that good-sized town on the lake. They would sell the -team and wagon there and get money enough to put an advertisement in -the Billboard, which is like a Bible to them showmen, that they had a -balloon to sell and was at liberty. - -One of them was the slimmest, lightest-footed, quickest feller you ever -seen, with a big nose and dark complected, and his name was Tobias. The -other was heavier and blonde complected. His name was Dobbs, he said, -and they was the Blanchet Brothers. Doctor Kirby and them got real well -acquainted in about three minutes. We drove on ahead and got into the -town first. - -The doctor says that balloon is jest wasted on them fellers. They can't -go up in her, not knowing that trade, but still they ought to be some -way fur them to make a little stake out of it before it was sold. - -The next evening we run acrost them fellers on the street, and they was -feeling purty blue. They hadn't been able to sell that team and wagon, -which it was eating its meals reg'lar in a livery stable, and they had -been doing stunts in the street that day and passing around the hat, but -not getting enough fur to pay expenses. - -“Where's the balloon?” asts the doctor. And I seen he was sicking his -intellects onto the job of making her pay. - -“In the livery stable with the wagon,” they tells him. - -He says he is going to figger out a way to help them boys. They is like -all circus performers, he says--they jest knows their own acts, and -talks about 'em all the time, and studies up ways to make 'em better, -and has got no more idea of business outside of that than a rabbit. We -all went to the livery stable and overhauled that balloon. It was an -awful job, too. But they wasn't a rip in her, and the parachute was jest -as good as new. - -“There's no reason why we can't give a show of our own,” says Doctor -Kirby, “with you boys and Danny and me and that balloon. What we want -is a lot with a high board fence around it, like a baseball grounds, -and the chance to tap a gas main.” He says he'll be willing to take a -chancet on it, even paying the gas company real money to fill her up. - -What the Doctor didn't know about starting shows wasn't worth knowing. -He had even went in for the real drama in his younger days now and then. - -“One of my theatrical productions came very near succeeding, too,” he -says. - -It was a play he says, in which the hero falls in love with a pair of -Siamese twins and commits suicide because he can't make a choice between -them. - -“We played it as comedy in the big towns and tragedy in the little -ones,” he says. “But like a fool I booked it for two weeks of -middle-sized towns and it broke us.” - -The next day he finds a lot that will do jest fine. It has been used fur -a school playgrounds, but the school has been moved and the old building -is to be tore down. He hired the place cheap. And he goes and talks the -gas company into giving him credit to fill that balloon. Which I kept -wondering what was the use of filling her, fur none of the four of -us had ever went up in one. And when I seen the handbills he had had -printed I wondered all the more. They read as follers: - -[Illustration: 0150] - -Kirby's Komedy Kompany and Open Air Circus - -Presenting a Peerless Personnel of Artistic Attractions - -Greatest in the Galaxy of Gaiety, is - -Hartley L. Kirby - -Monologuist and minstrel, dancer and vaudevillian in his terpsichorean -travesties, buoyant burlesques, inimitable imitations, screaming -impersonations, refined comedy sketches and popular song hits of the -day. - - -The Blanchet Brothers - -Daring, Dazzling, Danger-Loving, Death-Defying Demons - -Joyous jugglers, acrobatic artists, constrictorial contortionists, -exquisite equilibrists, in their marvellous, mysterious, unparalleled -performances. - - -Umslopogus The Patagonian Chieftain - -The lowest type of human intellect - -This formerly ferocious fiend has so far succumbed to the softer wiles -of civilization that he is no longer a cannibal, and it is now safe to -put him on exhibition. But to prevent accidents he is heavily manacled, -and the public is warned not to come too near. - - - Balloon! Balloon!! Balloon!!! - - The management also presents the balloon of - - Prof. Alonzo Ackerman The Famous Aeronaut - - in which he has made his - - Wonderful Ascension and Parachute Drop - - many times, reaching remarkable altitudes - - Balloon! Balloon!! Balloon!!! - - Saturday, 3 P. M. Old Vandegrift School Lot - - - Admission 50 Cents - - -Well, fur a writer he certainly laid over Looey, Doctor Kirby did--more -cheerful-like, you might say. I seen right off I was to be the -Patagonian Chieftain. I was getting more and more of an actor right -along--first an Injun, then a wild Borneo, and now a Patagonian. - -“But who is this Alonzo Ackerman?” I asts him. - -“Celebrated balloonist,” says he, “and the man that invented parachutes. -They eat out of his hand.” - -“Where is he?” asts I. - -“How should I know?” he says. - -“How is he going up, then?” I asts. - -The doctor chuckles and says it is a good bill, a better bill than he -thought; that it is getting in its work already. He says to me to read -it careful and see if it says Alonzo Ackerman is going up. Well, it -don't. But any one would of thought so the first look. I reckon that -bill was some of a liar herself, not lying outright, but jest hinting a -lie. They is a lot of mean, stingy-souled kind of people wouldn't never -lie to help a friend, but Doctor Kirby wasn't one of 'em. - -“But,” I says, “when that crowd finds out Alonzo ain't going up they -will be purty mad.” - -“Oh,” says he, “I don't think so. The American public are a good-natured -set of chuckle-heads, mostly. If they get sore I'll talk 'em out of it.” - -If he had any faults at all--and mind you, I ain't saying Doctor Kirby -had any--the one he had hardest was the belief he could talk any crowd -into any notion, or out of it, either. And he loved to do it jest fur -the fun of it. He'd rather have the feeling he was doing that than the -money any day. He was powerful vain about that gab of his'n, Doctor -Kirby was. - -The four of us took around about five thousand bills. The doctor says -they is nothing like giving yourself a chancet. And Saturday morning we -got the balloon filled up so she showed handsome, tugging away there at -her ropes. But we had a dern mean time with that balloon, too. - -The doctor says if we have good luck there may be as many as three, four -hundred people. - -But Jerusalem! They was two, three times that many. By the time the -show started I reckon they was nigh a thousand there. The doctor and -the Blanchet Brothers was tickled. When they quit coming fast the doctor -left the gate and made a little speech, telling all about the wonderful -show, and the great expense it was to get it together, and all that. - -They was a rope stretched between the crowd and us. Back of that was the -Blanchet Brothers' wagon and our wagon, and our little tent. I was jest -inside the tent with chains on. Back of everything else was the balloon. - -Well, the doctor he done a lot of songs and things as advertised. Then -the Blanchet Brothers done some of their acts. They was really fine -acts, too. Then come some more of Doctor Kirby's refined comedy, as -advertised. Next, more Blanchet. Then a lecture about me by the doctor. -All in all it takes up about an hour and a half. Then the doctor makes -a mighty nice little talk, and wishes them all good afternoon, thanking -them fur their kind intentions and liberal patronage, one and all. - -“But when will the balloon go up?” asts half a dozen at oncet. - -“The balloon?” asts Doctor Kirby, surprised. - -“Balloon! Balloon!” yells a kid. And the hull crowd took it up and -yelled: “Balloon! Balloon! Balloon!” And they crowded up closte to that -rope. - -Doctor Kirby has been getting off the wagon, but he gets back on her, -and stretches his arms wide, and motions of 'em all to come close. - -“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “please to gather near--up here, -good people--and listen! Listen to what I have to say--harken to the -utterings of my voice! There has been a misunderstanding here! There has -been a misconstruction! There has been, ladies and gentlemen, a woeful -lack of comprehension here!” - -It looked to me like they was beginning to understand more than he meant -them to. I was wondering how it would all come out, but he never lost -his nerve. - -“Listen,” he says, very earnest, “listen to me. Somehow the idea seems -to have gone forth that there would be a balloon ascension here this -afternoon. How, I do not know, for what we advertised, ladies and -gentlemen, was that the balloon used by Prof. Alonzo Ackerman, the -illustrious aeronaut, would be _UPON EXHIBITION_. And there she is, ladies -and gentlemen, there she is, for every eye to see and gladden with the -sight of--right before you, ladies and gentlemen--the balloon of Alonzo -Ackerman, the wonderful voyager of the air, exactly as represented. -During their long career Kirby and Company have never deceived the -public. Others may, but Kirby and Company are like Caesar's wife--Kirby -and Company are above suspicion. It is the province of Kirby's Komedy -Kompany, ladies and gentlemen, to spread the glad tidings of innocent -amusement throughout the length and breadth of this fair land of ours. -And there she is before you, the balloon as advertised, the gallant ship -of the air in which the illustrious Ackerman made so many voyages before -he sailed at last into the Great Beyond! You can see her, ladies and -gentlemen, straining at her cords, anxious to mount into the heavens -and be gone! It is an education in itself, ladies and gentlemen, a moral -education, and well worth coming miles to see. Think of it--think of -it--the Ackerman balloon--and then think that the illustrious Ackerman -himself--he was my personal friend, ladies and gentlemen, and a true -friend sticketh closer than a brother--the illustrious Ackerman is dead. -The balloon, ladies and gentlemen, is there, but Ackerman is gone to his -reward. Look at that balloon, ladies and gentlemen, and tell me if you -can, why should the spirit of mortals be proud? For the man that rode -her like a master and tamed her like she was a dove lies cold and dead -in a western graveyard, ladies and gentlemen, and she is here, a useless -and an idle vanity without the mind that made her go!” - -Well, he went on and he told a funny story about Alonzo, which I don't -believe they ever was no Alonzo Ackerman, and a lot of 'em laughed; -and he told a pitiful story, and they got sollum agin, and then another -funny story. Well, he had 'em listening, and purty soon most of the -crowd is feeling in a good humour toward him, and one feller yells out: - -“Go it--you're a hull show yourself!” And some joshes him, but they -don't seem to be no trouble in the air. When they all look to be in a -good humour he holds up a bill and asts how many has them. Many has. He -says that is well, and then he starts to telling another story. But -in the middle of the story that hull dern crowd is took with a fit of -laughing. They has looked at the bill closet, and seen they is sold, and -is taking it good-natured. And still shouting and laughing most of them -begins to start along off. And I thought all chancet of trouble was over -with. But it wasn't. - -Fur they is always a natcheral born kicker everywhere, and they was one -here, too. - -He was a lean feller with a sticking out jaw, and one of his eyes was in -a kind of a black pocket, and he was jest natcherally laying it off to -about a dozen fellers that was in a little knot around him. - -The doctor sees the main part of the crowd going and climbs down off'n -the wagon. As he does so that hull bunch of about a dozen moves in under -the rope, and some more that was going out seen it, and stopped and come -back. - -“Perfessor,” says the man with the patch over his eye to Doctor Kirby, -“you say this man Ackerman is dead?” - -“Yes,” says the doctor, eying him over, “he's dead.” - -“How did he die?” asts the feller. - -“He died hard, I understand,” says the doctor, careless-like. - -“Fell out of his balloon?” - -“Yes.” - -“This aeronaut trade is a dangerous trade, I hear,” says the feller with -the patch on his eye. - -“They say so,” says Doctor Kirby, easy-like. - -“Was you ever an aeronaut yourself?” asts the feller. - -“No,” says the doctor. - -“Never been up in a balloon?” - -“No.” - -“Well, you're going up in one this afternoon!” - -“What do you mean?” asts Doctor Kirby. - -“We've come out to see a balloon ascension--and we're going to see it, -too.” - -And with that the hull crowd made a rush at the doctor. - -Well, I been in fights before that, and I been in fights since then. But -I never been in no harder one. The doctor and the two Blanchet brothers -and me managed to get backed up agin the fence in a row when the rush -come. I guess I done my share, and I guess the Blanchet brothers done -theirn, too. But they was too many of 'em for us--too dern many. It -wouldn't of ended as quick as it did if Doctor Kirby hadn't gone clean -crazy. His back was to the fence, and he cleaned out everything in front -of him, and then he give a wild roar jest like a bull and rushed that -hull gang--twenty men, they was--with his head down. He caught two -fellers, one in each hand, and he cracked their heads together, and he -caught two more, and done the same. But he orter never took his back -away from that fence. The hull gang closed in on him, and down he went -at the bottom of a pile. I was awful busy myself, but I seen that pile -moving and churning. Then I made a big mistake myself. I kicked a feller -in the stomach, and another feller caught my leg, and down I went. Fur -a half a minute I never knowed nothing. And when I come to I was all -mashed about the face, and two fellers was sitting on me. - -The crowd was tying Doctor Kirby to that parachute. They straddled -legs over the parachute bar, and tied his feet below it. He was still -fighting, but they was too many fur him. They left his arms untied, but -they held 'em, and then-- - -Then they cut her loose. She went up like she was shot from a gun, and -as she did Doctor Kirby took a grip on a feller's arm that hadn't let -loose quick enough and lifted him plumb off'n the ground. He slewed -around on the trapeze bar with the feller's weight, and slipped head -downward. And as he slipped he give that feller a swing and let loose -of him, and then ketched himself by the crook of one knee. The feller -turned over twicet in the air and landed in a little crumpled-up pile on -the ground, and never made a sound. - -The fellers that had holt of me forgot me and stood up, and I stood up -too, and looked. The balloon was rising fast. Doctor Kirby was trying to -pull himself up to the trapeze bar, twisting and squirming and having -a hard time of it, and shooting higher every second. I reckoned he -couldn't fall complete, fur where his feet was tied would likely hold -even if his knee come straight--but he would die mebby with his head -filling up with blood. But finally he made a squirm and raised himself a -lot and grabbed the rope at one side of the bar. And then he reached and -got the rope on the other side, and set straddle of her. And jest as he -done that the wind ketched the balloon good and hard, and she turned out -toward Lake Erie. It was too late fur him to pull the rope that sets the -parachute loose then, and drop onto the land. - -I rushed out of that schoolhouse yard and down the street toward the -lake front, and run, stumbling along and looking up. She was getting -smaller every minute. And with my head in the air looking up I was -running plumb to the edge of the water before I knowed it. - -She was away out over the lake now, and awful high, and going fast -before the wind, and the doctor was only a speck. And as I stared at -that speck away up in the sky I thought this was a mean world to live -in. Fur there was the only real friend I ever had, and no way fur me to -help him. He had learnt me to read, and bought me good clothes, and made -me know they was things in the world worth travelling around to see, and -made me feel like I was something more than jest Old Hank Walters's dog. -And I guessed he would be drownded and I would never see him agin now. -And all of a sudden something busted loose inside of me, and I sunk -down there at the edge of the water, sick at my stomach, and weak and -shivering. - - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -I didn't exactly faint there, but things got all mixed fur me, and when -they was straightened out agin I was in a hospital. It seems I had -been considerable stepped on in that fight, and three ribs was broke. I -knowed I was hurting, but I was so interested in what was happening to -the doctor the hull hurt never come to me till the balloon was way out -over the lake. - -But now I was in a plaster cast, and before I got out of that I was in a -fever. I was some weeks getting out of there. - -I tried to get some word of Doctor Kirby, but couldn't. Nothing had been -heard of him or the balloon. The newspapers had had stuff about it fur a -day or two, and they guessed the body might come to light sometime. But -that was all. And I didn't know where to hunt nor how. - -The hosses and wagon and tent and things worried me some, too. They -wasn't mine, and so I couldn't sell 'em. And they wasn't no good to me -without Doctor Kirby. So I tells the man that owns the livery stable to -use the team fur its board and keep it till Doctor Kirby calls fur it, -and if he never does mebby I will sometime. - -I didn't want to stay in that town or I could of got a job in the livery -stable. They offered me one, but I hated that town. I wanted to light -out. I didn't much care where to. - -Them Blanchet Brothers had left a good share of the money we took in -at the balloon ascension with the hospital people fur me before they -cleared out. But before I left that there town I seen they was one thing -I had to do to make myself easy in my mind. So I done her. - -That was to hunt up that feller with his eye in the patch. It took me -a week to find him. He lived down near some railroad yards. I might of -soaked him with a coupling link and felt a hull lot better. But I didn't -guess it would do to pet and pamper my feelings too much. So I does it -with my fists in a quiet place, and does it very complete, and leaves -that town in a cattle car, feeling a hull lot more contented in my mind. - -Then they was a hull dern year I didn't stay nowhere very long, nor -work at any one job too long, neither. I jest worked from place to place -seeing things--big towns and rivers and mountains. Working here and -there, and loafing and riding blind baggages and freight trains between -jobs, I covered a lot of ground that year, and made some purty big -jumps, and got acquainted with some awful queer folks, first and last. - -But the worst of that is lots of people gets to thinking I am a hobo. -Even one or two judges in police courts I got acquainted with had that -there idea of me. I always explains that I am not one, and am jest -travelling around to see things, and working when I feels like it, and -ain't no bum. But frequent I am not believed. And two, three different -times I gets to the place where I couldn't hardly of told myself from a -hobo, if I hadn't of knowed I wasn't one. - -I got right well acquainted with some of them hobos, too. As fur as I -can see, they is as much difference in them as in other humans. Some -travels because they likes to see things, and some because they hates to -work, and some because they is in the habit and can't stop it. Well, I -know myself it's purty hard after while to stop it, fur where would you -stop at? What excuse is they to stop one place more'n another? I met all -kinds of 'em, and oncet I got in fur a week with a couple of real Johnny -Yeggs that is both in the pen now. I hearn a feller say one time there -is some good in every man. I went the same way as them two yeggmen a -hull dern week to try and find out where the good in 'em was. I guess -they must be some mistake somewheres, fur I looked hard and I watched -closet and I never found it. They is many kinds of hobos and tramps, -perfessional and amachure, and lots of kinds of bums, and lots of young -fellers working their way around to see things, like I was, and lots of -working men in hard luck going from place to place, and all them kinds -is humans. But the real yeggman ain't even a dog. - -And oncet I went all the way from Chicago to Baltimore with a serious, -dern fool that said he was a soshyologest, whatever them is, and was -going to put her all into a book about the criminal classes. He worked -hard trying to get at the reason I was a hobo. Which they wasn't no -reason, fur I wasn't no hobo. But I didn't want to disappoint that -feller and spoil his book fur him. So I tells him things. Things not -overly truthful, but very full of crime. About a year afterward I was -into one of these here Andrew Carnegie lib'aries with the names of the -old-time presidents all chiselled along the top and I seen the hull -dern thing in print. He said of me the same thing I have said about them -yeggmen. If all he met joshed that feller the same as me, that book must -of been what you might call misleading in spots. - -One morning I woke up in a good-sized town in Illinoise, not a hundred -miles from where I was raised, without no money, and my clothes not much -to look at, and no job. I had been with a railroad show fur about two -weeks, driving stakes and other rough work, and it had went off and left -me sleeping on the ground. Circuses never waits fur nothing nor cares a -dern fur no one. I tried all day around town fur to get some kind of a -job. But I was looking purty rough and I couldn't land nothing. Along in -the afternoon I was awful hungry. - -I was feeling purty low down to have to ast fur a meal, but finally I -done it. - -I dunno how I ever come to pick out such a swell-looking house, but I -makes a little talk at the back door and the Irish girl she says, “Come -in,” and into the kitchen I goes. - -“It's Minnesota you're working toward?” asts she, pouring me out a cup -of coffee. - -She is thinking of the wheat harvest where they is thousands makes fur -every fall. But none of 'em fur me. That there country is full of them -Scandiluvian Swedes and Norwegians, and they gets into the field before -daylight and stays there so long the hired man's got to milk the cows by -moonlight. - -“I been acrost the river into I'way,” I says, “a-working at my trade, -and now I'm going back to Chicago to work at it some more.” - -“What might your trade be?” she asts, sizing me up careful; and I thinks -I'll hand her one to chew on she ain't never hearn tell of before. - -“I'm a agnostic by trade,” I says. I spotted that there word in a -religious book one time, and that's the first chancet I ever has to try -it on any one. You can't never tell what them reg'lar sockdologers is -going to do till you tries them. - -“I see,” says she. But I seen she didn't see. And I didn't help her -none. She would of ruther died than to let on she didn't see. The Irish -is like that. Purty soon she says: - -“Ain't that the dangerous kind o' work, though!” - -“It is,” I says. And says nothing further. - -She sets down and folds her arms, like she was thinking of it, watching -my hands closet all the time I was eating, like she's looking fur scars -where something slipped when I done that agnostic work. Purty soon she -says: - -“Me brother Michael was kilt at it in the old country. He was the most -vinturesome lad of thim all!” - -“Did it fly up and hit him?” I asts her. I was wondering w'ether she is -making fun of me or am I making fun of her. Them Irish is like that, you -can never tell which. - -“No,” says she, “he fell off of it. And I'm thinking you don't know what -it is yourself.” And the next thing I know I'm eased out o' the back -door and she's grinning at me scornful through the crack of it. - -So I was walking slow around toward the front of the house thinking how -the Irish was a great nation, and what shall I do now, anyhow? And I -says to myself: “Danny, you was a fool to let that circus walk off and -leave you asleep in this here town with nothing over you but a barbed -wire fence this morning. Fur what _are_ you going to do next? First thing -you know, you _will_ be a reg'lar tramp, which some folks can't be made -to see you ain't now.” And jest when I was thinking that, a feller comes -down the front steps of that house on the jump and nabs me by the coat -collar. - -“Did you come out of this house?” he asts. - -“I did,” I says, wondering what next. - -“Back in you go, then,” he says, marching me forward toward them front -steps, “they've got smallpox in there.” - -I like to of jumped loose when he says that. - -“Smallpox ain't no inducement to me, mister,” I tells him. But he -twisted my coat collar tight and dug his thumbs into my neck, all the -time helping me onward with his knee from behind, and I seen they wasn't -no use pulling back. I could probable of licked that man, but they's no -system in mixing up with them well-dressed men in towns where they think -you are a tramp. The judge will give you the worst of it. - -He rung the door bell and the girl that opened the door she looked kind -o' surprised when she seen me, and in we went. - -“Tell Professor Booth that Doctor Wilkins wants to see him again,” - says the man a-holt o' me, not letting loose none. And we says nothing -further till the perfessor comes, which he does, slow and absent-minded. -When he seen me he took off his glasses so's he could see me better, and -he says: - -“What is that you have there, Doctor Wilkins?” - -“A guest for you,” says Doctor Wilkins, grinning all over hisself. “I -found him leaving your house. And you being under quarantine, and me -being secretary to the board of health, and the city pest-house being -crowded too full already, I'll have to ask you to keep him here till -we get Miss Margery onto her feet again,” he says. Or they was words to -that effect, as the lawyers asts you. - -“Dear me,” says Perfesser Booth, kind o' helpless like. And he -comes over closet to me and looks me all over like I was one of them -amphimissourian lizards in a free museum. And then he goes to the foot -of the stairs and sings out in a voice that was so bleached-out and -flat-chested it would of looked jest like him himself if you could of -saw it--“Estelle,” he sings out, “oh, Estelle!” - -Estelle, she come down stairs looking like she was the perfessor's big -brother. I found out later she was his old maid sister. She wasn't no -spring chicken, Estelle wasn't, and they was a continuous grin on her -face. I figgered it must of froze there years and years ago. They was -a kid about ten or eleven years old come along down with her, that had -hair down to its shoulders and didn't look like it knowed whether it was -a girl or a boy. Miss Estelle, she looks me over in a way that makes me -shiver, while the doctor and the perfessor jaws about whose fault it is -the smallpox sign ain't been hung out. And when she was done listening -she says to the perfessor: “You had better go back to your laboratory.” - And the perfessor he went along out, and the doctor with him. - -“What are you going to do with him, Aunt Estelle?” the kid asts her. - -“What would _you_ suggest, William, Dear?” asts his aunt. I ain't feeling -very comfortable, and I was getting all ready jest to natcherally bolt -out the front door now the doctor was gone. Then I thinks it mightn't be -no bad place to stay in fur a couple o' days, even risking the smallpox. -Fur I had riccolected I couldn't ketch it nohow, having been vaccinated -a few months before in Terry Hutt by compulsive medical advice, me being -fur a while doing some work on the city pavements through a mistake -about me in the police court. - -William Dear looks at me like it was the day of judgment and his job was -to keep the fatted calves separate from the goats and prodigals, and he -says: - -“If I were you, Aunt Estelle, the first thing would be to get his hair -cut and his face washed and then get him some clothes.” - -“William Dear is my friend,” thinks I. - -[Illustration: 0171] - -She calls James, which was a butler. James, he buttles me into a -bathroom the like o' which I never seen afore, and then he buttles me -into a suit o' somebody's clothes and into a room at the top o' the -house next to his'n, and then he comes back and buttles a comb and brush -at me. James was the most mournful-looking fat man I ever seen, and he -says that account of me not being respectable I will have my meals alone -in the kitchen after the servants has eat. - -The first thing I knowed I been in that house more'n a week. I eat and I -slept and I smoked and I kind of enjoyed not worrying about things fur -a while. The only oncomfortable thing about being the perfessor's guest -was Miss Estelle. Soon's she found out I was a agnostic she took charge -o' my intellectuals and what went into 'em, and she makes me read things -and asts me about 'em, and she says she is going fur to reform me. And -whatever brand o' disgrace them there agnostics really is I ain't found -out to this day, having come acrost the word accidental. - -Biddy Malone, which was the kitchen mechanic, she says the perfessor's -wife's been over to her mother's while this smallpox has been going on, -and they is a nurse in the house looking after Miss Margery, the little -kid that's sick. And Biddy, she says if she was Mrs. Booth she'd stay -there, too. They's been some talk, anyhow, about Mrs. Booth and a -musician feller around that there town. But Biddy, she likes Mrs. Booth, -and even if it was true, which it ain't Biddy says, who could of blamed -her? Fur things ain't joyous around that house the last year, since Miss -Estelle's come there to live. The perfessor, he's so full of scientifics -he don't know nothing with no sense to it, Biddy says. He's got more -money'n you can shake a stick at, and he don't have to do no work, nor -never has, and his scientifics gets worse and worse every year. But -while scientifics is worrying to the nerves of a fambly, and while his -labertory often makes the house smell like a sick drug store has crawled -into it and died there, they wouldn't of been no serious row on between -the perfessor and his wife, not _all_ the time, if it hadn't of been fur -Miss Estelle. She has jest natcherally made herself boss of that there -house, Biddy says, and she's a she-devil. Between all them scientifics -and Miss Estelle things has got where Mrs. Booth can't stand 'em much -longer. - -I didn't blame her none fur getting sore on her job, neither. You -can't expect a woman that's purty, and knows it, and ain't no more'n -thirty-two or three, and don't look it, to be serious intrusted in -mummies and pickled snakes and chemical perfusions, not _all_ the time. -Mebby when Mrs. Booth would ast him if he was going to take her to the -opery that night the perfessor would look up in an absent-minded sort -of way and ast her did she know them Germans had invented a new germ? It -wouldn't of been so bad if the perfessor had picked out jest one brand -of scientifics and stuck to that reg'lar. Mrs. Booth could of got use to -any _one_ kind. But mebby this week the perfessor would be took hard with -ornithography and he'd go chasing humming-birds all over the front yard, -and the next he'd be putting gastronomy into William's breakfast feed. - -They was always a row on over them kids, which they hadn't been till -Miss Estelle come. Mrs. Booth, she said they could kill their own -selves, if they wanted to, him and Miss Estelle, but she had more -right than any one else to say what went into William's and Margery's -digestive ornaments, and she didn't want 'em brung up scientific nohow, -but jest human. But Miss Estelle's got so she runs that hull house -now, and the perfessor too, but he don't know it, Biddy says, and her -a-saying every now and then it was too bad Frederick couldn't of married -a noble woman who would of took a serious intrust in his work. The kids -don't hardly dare to kiss their ma in front of Miss Estelle no more, on -account of germs and things. And with Miss Estelle taking care of their -religious organs and their intellectuals and the things like that, and -the perfessor filling them up on new invented feeds, I guess they never -was two kids got more education to the square inch, outside and in. It -hadn't worked none on Miss Margery yet, her being younger, but William -Dear he took it hard and serious, and it made bumps all over his head, -and he was kind o' pale and spindly. Every time that kid cut his finger -he jest natcherally bled scientifics. One day I says to Miss Estelle, -says I: - -“It looks to me like William Dear is kind of peaked.” She looks worried -and she looks mad fur me lipping in, and then she says mebby it is true, -but she don't see why, because he is being brung up like he orter be in -every way and no expense nor trouble spared. - -“Well,” says I, “what a kid about that size wants to do is to get out -and roll around in the dirt some, and yell and holler.” - -She sniffs like I wasn't worth taking no notice of. But it kind o' -soaked in, too. She and the perfessor must of talked it over. Fur the -next day I seen her spreading a oilcloth on the hall floor. And then -James comes a buttling in with a lot of sand what the perfessor has -baked and made all scientific down in his labertory. James, he pours all -that nice, clean dirt onto the oilcloth and then Miss Estelle sends fur -William Dear. - -“William Dear,” she says, “we have decided, your papa and I, that what -you need is more romping around and playing along with your studies. You -ought to get closer to the soil and to nature, as is more healthy for -a youth of your age. So for an hour each day, between your studies, you -will romp and play in this sand. You may begin to frolic now, William -Dear, and then James will sweep up the dirt again for to-morrow's -frolic.” - -But William didn't frolic none. He jest looked at that dirt in a sad -kind o' way, and he says very serious but very decided: - -“Aunt Estelle, I shall _not_ frolic.” And they had to let it go at that, -fur he never would frolic none, neither. And all that nice clean dirt -was throwed out in the back yard along with the unscientific dirt. - - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -One night when I've been there more'n a week, and am getting kind o' -tired staying in one place so long, I don't want to go to bed after I -eats, and I gets a-holt of some of the perfessor's cigars and goes -into the lib'ary to see if he's got anything fit to read. Setting there -thinking of the awful remarkable people they is in this world I must of -went to sleep. Purty soon, in my sleep, I hearn two voices. Then I waked -up sudden, and still hearn 'em, low and quicklike, in the room that -opens right off of the lib'ary with a couple of them sliding doors like -is onto a box car. One voice was a woman's voice, and it wasn't Miss -Estelle's. - -“But I _must_ see them before we go, Henry,” she says. - -And the other was a man's voice and it wasn't no one around our house. - -“But, my God,” he says, “suppose you get it yourself, Jane!” - -I set up straight then, fur Jane was the perfessor's wife's first name. - -“You mean suppose _you_ get it,” she says. I like to of seen the look she -must of give him to fit in with the way she says that _you_. He didn't say -nothing, the man didn't; and then her voice softens down some, and -she says, low and slow: “Henry, wouldn't you love me if I _did_ get it? -Suppose it marked and pitted me all up?” - -“Oh, of course,” he says, “of course I would. Nothing can change the way -I feel. _You_ know that.” He said it quick enough, all right, jest the way -they does in a show, but it sounded _too much_ like it does on the stage -to of suited me if _I_'d been her. I seen folks overdo them little talks -before this. - -I listens some more, and then I sees how it is. This is that musician -feller Biddy Malone's been talking about. Jane's going to run off with -him all right, but she's got to kiss the kids first. Women is like that. -They may hate the kids' pa all right, but they's dad-burned few of 'em -don't like the kids. I thinks to myself: “It must be late. I bet they -was already started, or ready to start, and she made him bring her here -first so's she could sneak in and see the kids. She jest simply couldn't -get by. But she's taking a fool risk, too. Fur how's she going to see -Margery with that nurse coming and going and hanging around all night? -And even if she tries jest to see William Dear it's a ten to one shot -he'll wake up and she'll be ketched at it.” - -And then I thinks, suppose she _is_ ketched at it? What of it? Ain't a -woman got a right to come into her own house with her own door key, even -if they is a quarantine onto it, and see her kids? And if she is ketched -seeing them, how would any one know she was going to run off? And ain't -she got a right to have a friend of hern and her husband's bring her -over from her mother's house, even if it is a little late? - -Then I seen she wasn't taking no great risks neither, and I thinks mebby -I better go and tell that perfessor what is going on, fur he has treated -me purty white. And then I thinks: “I'll be gosh-derned if I meddle. -So fur as I can see that there perfessor ain't getting fur from what's -coming to him, nohow. And as fur _her_, you got to let some people find -out what they want fur theirselves. Anyhow, where do _I_ come in at?” - -But I want to get a look at her and Henry, anyhow. So I eases off my -shoes, careful-like, and I eases acrost the floor to them sliding doors, -and I puts my eye down to the little crack. The talk is going backward -and forward between them two, him wanting her to come away quick, and -her undecided whether to risk seeing the kids. And all the time she's -kind o' hoping mebby she will be ketched if she tries to see the kids, -and she's begging off fur more time ginerally. - -Well, sir, I didn't blame that musician feller none when I seen her. She -was a peach. - -And I couldn't blame her so much, neither, when I thought of Miss -Estelle and all them scientifics of the perfessor's strung out fur years -and years world without end. - -Yet, when I seen the man, I sort o' wished she wouldn't. I seen right -off that Henry wouldn't do. It takes a man with a lot of gumption to -keep a woman feeling good and not sorry fur doing it when he's married -to her. But it takes a man with twicet as much to make her feel right -when they ain't married. This feller wears one of them little, brown, -pointed beards fur to hide where his chin ain't. And his eyes is too -much like a woman's. Which is the kind that gets the biggest piece of -pie at the lunch counter and fergits to thank the girl as cuts it big. -She was setting in front of a table, twisting her fingers together, and -he was walking up and down. I seen he was mad and trying not to show it, -and I seen he was scared of the smallpox and trying not to show that, -too. And jest about that time something happened that kind o' jolted me. - -They was one of them big chairs in the room where they was that has got -a high back and spins around on itself. It was right acrost from me, on -the other side of the room, and it was facing the front window, which -was a bow window. And that there chair begins to turn, slow and easy. -First I thought she wasn't turning. Then I seen she was. But Jane and -Henry didn't. They was all took up with each other in the middle of the -room, with their backs to it. - -Henry is a-begging of Jane, and she turns a little more, that chair -does. Will she squeak, I wonders? - -“Don't you be a fool, Jane,” says the Henry feller. - -Around she comes three hull inches, that there chair, and nary a squeak. - -“A fool?” asts Jane, and laughs. “And I'm not a fool to think of going -with you at all, then?” - -That chair, she moved six inches more and I seen the calf of a leg and -part of a crumpled-up coat tail. - -“But I _am_ going with you, Henry,” says Jane. And she gets up jest like -she is going to put her arms around him. - -But Jane don't. Fur that chair swings clear around and there sets the -perfessor. He's all hunched up and caved in and he's rubbing his eyes -like he's jest woke up recent, and he's got a grin onto his face that -makes him look like his sister Estelle looks all the time. - -“Excuse me,” says the perfessor. - -They both swings around and faces him. I can hear my heart bumping. Jane -never says a word. The man with the brown beard never says a word. But -if they felt like me they both felt like laying right down there and -having a fit. They looks at him and he jest sets there and grins at -them. - -But after a while Jane, she says: - -“Well, now you _know!_ What are you going to do about it?” - -Henry, he starts to say something too. But-- - -“Don't start anything,” says the perfessor to him. “_You_ aren't going to -do anything.” Or they was words to that effect. - -“Professor Booth,” he says, seeing he has got to say something or else -Jane will think the worse of him, “I am--” - -“Keep still,” says the perfessor, real quiet. “I'll tend to you in a -minute or two. _You_ don't count for much. This thing is mostly between me -and my wife.” - -When he talks so decided I thinks mebby that perfessor has got something -into him besides science after all. Jane, she looks kind o' surprised -herself. But she says nothing, except: - -“What are you going to do, Frederick?” And she laughs one of them mean -kind of laughs, and looks at Henry like she wanted him to spunk up a -little more, and says: “What _can_ you do, Frederick?” - -Frederick, he says, not excited a bit: - -“There's quite a number of things I _could_ do that would look bad when -they got into the newspapers. But it's none of them, unless one of you -forces me to it.” Then he says: - -“You _did_ want to see the children, Jane?” - -She nodded. - -“Jane,” he says, “can't you see I'm the better man?” - -The perfessor, he was woke up after all them years of scientifics, and -he didn't want to see her go. “Look at him,” he says, pointing to the -feller with the brown beard, “he's scared stiff right now.” - -Which I would of been scared myself if I'd a-been ketched that-a-way -like Henry was, and the perfessor's voice sounding like you was chopping -ice every time he spoke. I seen the perfessor didn't want to have no -blood on the carpet without he had to have it, but I seen he was making -up his mind about something, too. Jane, she says: - -“_You_ a better man? _You_? You think you've been a model husband just -because you've never beaten me, don't you?” - -“No,” says the perfessor, “I've been a blamed fool all right. I've been -a worse fool, maybe, than if I _had_ beaten you.” Then he turns to Henry -and he says: - -“Duels are out of fashion, aren't they? And a plain killing looks bad in -the papers, doesn't it? Well, you just wait for me.” With which he gets -up and trots out, and I hearn him running down stairs to his labertory. - -Henry, he'd ruther go now. He don't want to wait. But with Jane -a-looking at him he's shamed not to wait. It's his place to make some -kind of a strong action now to show Jane he is a great man. But he don't -do it. And Jane is too much of a thoroughbred to show him she expects -it. And me, I'm getting the fidgets and wondering to myself, “What is -that there perfessor up to now? Whatever it is, it ain't like no one -else. He is looney, that perfessor is. And she is kind o' looney, too. -I wonder if they is any one that ain't looney sometimes?” I been -around the country a good 'eal, too, and seen and hearn of some awful -remarkable things, and I never seen no one that wasn't more or less -looney when the _search us the femm_ comes into the case. Which is a Dago -word I got out'n a newspaper and it means: “Who was the dead gent's lady -friend?” And we all set and sweat and got the fidgets waiting fur that -perfessor to come back. - -Which he done with that Sister Estelle grin onto his face and a pill box -in his hand. They was two pills in the box. He says, placid and chilly: - -“Yes, sir, duels are out of fashion. This is the age of science. All the -same, the one that gets her has got to fight for her. If she isn't worth -fighting for, she isn't worth having. Here are two pills. I made 'em -myself. One has enough poison in it to kill a regiment when it gets to -working well--which it does fifteen minutes after it is taken. The other -one has got nothing harmful in it. If you get the poison one, I keep -her. If I get it, you can have her. Only I hope you will wait long -enough after I'm dead so there won't be any scandal around town.” - -Henry, he never said a word. He opened his mouth, but nothing come of -it. When he done that I thought I hearn his tongue scrape agin his cheek -on the inside like a piece of sand-paper. He was scared, Henry was. - -“But _you_ know which is which,” Jane sings out. “The thing's not fair!” - -“That is the reason my dear Jane is going to shuffle these pills around -each other herself,” says the perfessor, “and then pick out one for him -and one for me. _You_ don't know which is which, Jane. And as he is the -favourite, he is going to get the first chance. If he gets the one I -want him to get, he will have just fifteen minutes to live after taking -it. In that fifteen minutes he will please to walk so far from my house -that he won't die near it and make a scandal. I won't have a scandal -without I have to. Everything is going to be nice and quiet and -respectable. The effect of the poison is similar to heart failure. No -one can tell the difference on the corpse. There's going to be no blood -anywhere. I will be found dead in my house in the morning with heart -failure, or else he will be picked up dead in the street, far enough -away so as to make no talk.” Or they was words to that effect. - -He is rubbing it in considerable, I thinks, that perfessor is. I wonder -if I better jump in and stop the hull thing. Then I thinks: “No, it's -between them three.” Besides, I want to see which one is going to get -that there loaded pill. I always been intrusted in games of chancet of -all kinds, and when I seen the perfessor was such a sport, I'm sorry I -been misjudging him all this time. - -Jane, she looks at the box, and she breathes hard and quick. - -“I won't touch 'em,” she says. “I refuse to be a party to any murder of -that kind.” - -“Huh? You do?” says the perfessor. “But the time when you might have -refused has gone by. You have made yourself a party to it already. -You're really the _main_ party to it. - -“But do as you like,” he goes on. “I'm giving him more chance than I -ought to with those pills. I might shoot him, and I would, and then face -the music, if it wasn't for mixing the children up in the scandal, Jane. -If you want to see him get a fair chance, Jane, you've got to hand out -these pills, one to him and then one to me. _You_ must kill one or the -other of us, or else _I'll kill him_ the other way. And _you_ had better -pick one out for him, because _I_ know which is which. Or else let him -pick one out for himself,” he says. - -Henry, he wasn't saying nothing. I thought he had fainted. But he -hadn't. I seen him licking his lips. I bet Henry's mouth was all dry -inside. - -Jane, she took the box and she went round in front of Henry and she -looked at him hard. She looked at him like she was thinking: “Fur God's -sake, spunk up some, and take one if it _does_ kill you!” Then she says -out loud: “Henry, if you die I will die, too!” - -And Henry, he took one. His hand shook, but he took it out'n the box. If -she had of looked like that at me mebby I would of took one myself. Fur -Jane, she was a peach, she was. But I don't know whether I would of or -not. When she makes that brag about dying, I looked at the perfessor. -What she said never fazed him. And I thinks agin: “Mebby I better jump -in now and stop this thing.” And then I thinks agin: “No, it is between -them three and Providence.” Besides, I'm anxious to see who is going -to get that pill with the science in it. I gets to feeling jest like -Providence hisself was in that there room picking out them pills with -his own hands. And I was anxious to see what Providence's ideas of right -and wrong was like. So fur as I could see they was all three in the -wrong, but if I had of been in there running them pills in Providence's -place I would of let them all off kind o' easy. - -Henry, he ain't eat his pill yet. He is jest looking at it and shaking. -The perfessor pulls out his watch and lays it on the table. - -“It is a quarter past eleven,” he says. “Mr. Murray, are you going to -make me shoot you, after all? I didn't want a scandal,” he says. “It's -for you to say whether you want to eat that pill and get your even -chance, or whether you want to get shot. The shooting method is sure, -but it causes talk. These pills won't _which_?” - -And he pulls a revolver. Which I suppose he had got that too when he -went down after them pills. - -Henry, he looks at the gun. - -Then he looks at the pill. - -Then he swallers the pill. - -The perfessor puts his gun back into his pocket, and then he puts his -pill into his mouth. He don't swaller it. He looks at the watch, and he -looks at Henry. - -“Sixteen minutes past eleven,” he says. “_At exactly twenty-nine minutes -to twelve Mr. Murray will be dead_. I got the harmless one. I can tell by -the taste.” - -And he put the pieces out into his hand, to show that he has chewed -his'n up, not being willing to wait fifteen minutes fur a verdict from -his digestive ornaments. Then he put them pieces back into his mouth and -chewed 'em up and swallered 'em down like he was eating cough drops. - -Henry has got sweat breaking out all over his face, and he tries to make -fur the door, but he falls down onto a sofa. - -“This is murder,” he says, weak-like. And he tries to get up again, but -this time he falls to the floor in a dead faint. - -“It's a dern short fifteen minutes,” I thinks to myself. “That perfessor -must of put more science into Henry's pill than he thought he did fur it -to of knocked him out this quick. It ain't skeercly three minutes.” - -When Henry falls the woman staggers and tries to throw herself on top -of him. The corners of her mouth was all drawed down, and her eyes was -turned up. But she don't yell none. She can't. She tries, but she jest -gurgles in her throat. The perfessor won't let her fall acrost Henry. -He ketches her. “Sit up, Jane,” he says, with that Estelle look onto his -face, “and let us have a talk.” - -She looks at him with no more sense in her face than a piece of putty -has got. But she can't look away from him. - -And I'm kind o' paralyzed, too. If that feller laying on the floor -had only jest kicked oncet, or grunted, or done something, I could of -loosened up and yelled, and I would of. I jest _needed_ to fetch a yell. -But Henry ain't more'n dropped down there till I'm feeling jest like -he'd _always_ been there, and I'd _always_ been staring into that room, and -the last word any one spoke was said hundreds and hundreds of years ago. - -“You're a murderer,” says Jane in a whisper, looking at the perfessor in -that stare-eyed way. “You're a _murderer_,” she says, saying it like she -was trying to make herself feel sure he really was one. - -“Murder!” says the perfessor. “Did you think I was going to run any -chances for a pup like him? He's scared, that's all. He's just fainted -through fright. He's a coward. Those pills were both just bread and -sugar. He'll be all right in a minute or two. I've just been showing -you that the fellow hasn't got nerve enough nor brains enough for a fine -woman like you, Jane,” he says. - -Then Jane begins to sob and laugh, both to oncet, kind o' wild like, her -voice clucking like a hen does, and she says: - -“It's worse then, it's worse! It's worse for me than if it were a -murder! Some farces can be more tragic than any tragedy ever was,” she -says. Or they was words to that effect. - -And if Henry had of been really dead she couldn't of took it no harder -than she begun to take it now when she saw he was alive, but jest wasn't -no good. But I seen she was taking on fur herself now more'n fur Henry. -Doctor Kirby always use to say women is made unlike most other animals -in many ways. When they is foolish about a man they can stand to have -that man killed a good 'eal better than to have him showed up ridiculous -right in front of them. They will still be crazy about the man that is -dead, even if he was crooked. But they don't never forgive the fellow -that lets himself be made a fool and lets them look foolish, too. And -when the perfessor kicks Henry in the ribs, and Henry comes to and -sneaks out, Jane, she never even turns her head and looks at him. - -“Jane,” says the perfessor, when she quiets down some, “you have a lot -o' things to forgive me. But do you suppose I have learned enough so -that we can make a go of it if we start all over again?” - -But Jane she never said nothing. - -“Jane,” he says, “Estelle is going back to New England, as soon as -Margery gets well, and she will stay there for good.” - -Jane, she begins to take a little intrust then. - -“Did Estelle tell you so?” she asts. - -“No,” says the perfessor. “Estelle doesn't know it yet. I'm going to -break the news to her in the morning.” - -But Jane still hates him. She's making herself hate him hard. She -wouldn't of been a human woman if she had let herself be coaxed up all -to oncet. Purty soon she says: “I'm tired.” And she went out looking -like the perfessor was a perfect stranger. She was a peace, Jane was. - -After she left, the perfessor set there quite a spell and smoked. And he -was looking tired out, too. They wasn't no mistake about me. I was jest -dead all through my legs. - - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -I was down in the perfessor's labertory one day, and that was a queer -place. They was every kind of scientifics that has ever been discovered -in it. Some was pickled in bottles and some was stuffed and some was -pinned to the walls with their wings spread out. If you took hold of -anything, it was likely to be a skull and give you the shivers or some -electric contraption and shock you; and if you tipped over a jar and -it broke, enough germs might get loose to slaughter a hull town. I was -helping the perfessor to unpack a lot of stuff some friends had sent -him, and I noticed a bottle that had onto it, blowed in the glass: - -DANIEL, DUNNE AND COMPANY - -“That's funny,” says I, out loud. - -“What is?” asts the perfessor. - -I showed him the bottle and told him how I was named after the company -that made 'em. He says to look around me. They is all kinds of glassware -in that room--bottles and jars and queer-shaped things with crooked tails -and noses--and nigh every piece of glass the perfessor owns is made by -that company. - -“Why,” says the perfessor, “their factory is in this very town.” - -And nothing would do fur me but I must go and see that factory. I -couldn't till the quarantine was pried loose from our house. But when it -was, I went down town and hunted up the place and looked her over. - -It was a big factory, and I was kind of proud of that. I was glad she -wasn't no measly, little, old-fashioned, run-down concern. Of course, -I wasn't really no relation to it and it wasn't none to me. But I -was named fur it, too, and it come about as near to being a fambly as -anything I had ever had or was likely to find. So I was proud it seemed -to be doing so well. - -I thinks as I looks at her of the thousands and thousands of bottles -that has been coming out of there fur years and years, and will be -fur years and years to come. And one bottle not so much different from -another one. And all that was really knowed about me was jest the name -on one out of all them millions and millions of bottles. It made me feel -kind of queer, when I thought of that, as if I didn't have no separate -place in the world any more than one of them millions of bottles. If any -one will shut his eyes and say his own name over and over agin fur quite -a spell, he will get kind of wonderized and mesmerized a-doing it--he -will begin to wonder who the dickens he is, anyhow, and what he is, and -what the difference between him and the next feller is. He will wonder -why he happens to be himself and the next feller _himself_. He wonders -where himself leaves off and the rest of the world begins. I been that -way myself--all wonderized, so that I felt jest like I was a melting -piece of the hull creation, and it was all shifting and drifting and -changing and flowing, and not solid anywhere, and I could hardly keep -myself from flowing into it. It makes a person feel awful queer, like -seeing a ghost would. It makes him feel like _he_ wasn't no solider than -a ghost himself. Well, if you ever done that and got that feeling, you -_know_ what I mean. All of a sudden, when I am trying to take in all -them millions and millions of bottles, it rushed onto me, that feeling, -strong. Thinking of them bottles had somehow brung it on. The bigness -of the hull creation, and the smallness of me, and the gait at which -everything was racing and rushing ahead, made me want to grab hold of -something solid and hang on. - -I reached out my hand, and it hit something solid all right. It was -a feller who was wheeling out a hand truck loaded with boxes from the -shipping department. I had been standing by the shipping department -door, and I reached right agin him. - -He wants to know if I am drunk or a blanked fool. So after some talk -of that kind I borrows a chew of tobacco of him and we gets right well -acquainted. - -I helped him finish loading his wagon and rode over to the freight depot -with him and helped him unload her. Lifting one of them boxes down from -the wagon I got such a shock I like to of dropped her. - -[Illustration: 0197] - -Fur she was marked so many dozen, glass, handle with care, and she was -addressed to Dr. Hartley L. Kirby, Atlanta, Ga. - -I managed to get that box onto the platform without busting her, and -then I sets down on top of her awful weak. - -“What's the matter?” asts the feller I was with. - -“Nothing,” says I. - -“You look sick,” he says. And I _was_ feeling that-a-way. - -“Mebby I do,” says I, “and it's enough to shake a feller up to find a -dead man come to life sudden like this.” - -“Great snakes, no!” says he, looking all around, “where?” - -But I didn't stop to chew the rag none. I left him right there, with his -mouth wide open, staring after me like I was crazy. Half a block away I -looked back and I seen him double over and slap his knee and laugh loud, -like he had hearn a big joke, but what he was laughing at I never knew. - -I was tickled. Tickled? Jest so tickled I was plumb foolish with it. The -doctor was alive after all--I kept saying it over and over to myself--he -hadn't drownded nor blowed away. And I was going to hunt him up. - -I had a little money. The perfessor had paid it to me. He had give me a -job helping take care of his hosses and things like that, and wanted me -to stay, and I had been thinking mebby I would fur a while. But not now! - -I calkelated I could grab a ride that very night that would put me into -Evansville the next morning. I figgered if I ketched a through freight -from there on the next night I might get where he was almost as quick as -them bottles did. - -I didn't think it was no use writing out my resignation fur the -perfessor. But I got quite a bit of grub from Biddy Malone to make a -start on, fur I didn't figger on spending no more money than I had to -on grub. She asts me a lot of questions, and I had to lie to her a -good deal, but I got the grub. And at ten that night I was in an empty -bumping along south, along with a cross-eyed feller named Looney Hogan -who happened to be travelling the same way. - -Riding on trains without paying fare ain't always the easy thing it -sounds. It is like a trade that has got to be learned. They is different -ways of doing it. I have done every way frequent, except one. That I -give up after trying her two, three times. That is riding the rods -down underneath the cars, with a piece of board put acrost 'em to lay -yourself on. - -I never want to go _anywheres_ agin bad enough to ride the rods. - -Because sometimes you arrive where you are going to partly smeared over -the trucks and in no condition fur to be made welcome to our city, as -Doctor Kirby would say. Sometimes you don't arrive. Every oncet in a -while you read a little piece in a newspaper about a man being found -alongside the tracks, considerable cut up, or laying right acrost them, -mebby. He is held in the morgue a while and no one knows who he is, and -none of the train crew knows they has run over a man, and the engineer -says they wasn't none on the track. More'n likely that feller has been -riding the rods, along about the middle of the train. Mebby he let -himself go to sleep and jest rolled off. Mebby his piece of board -slipped and he fell when the train jolted. Or mebby he jest natcherally -made up his mind he rather let loose and get squashed then get any more -cinders into his eyes. Riding the blind baggage or the bumpers gives me -all the excitement I wants, or all the gambling chancet either; others -can have the rods fur all of me. And they _is_ some people ackshally says -they likes 'em best. - -A good place, if it is winter time, is the feed rack over a cattle car, -fur the heat and steam from all them steers in there will keep you warm. -But don't crawl in no lumber car that is only loaded about half full, -and short lengths and bundles of laths and shingles in her; fur they -is likely to get to shifting and bumping. Baled hay is purty good -sometimes. Myself, not being like these bums that is too proud to -work, I have often helped the fireman shovel coal and paid fur my ride -that-a-way. But an empty, fur gineral purposes, will do about as well as -anything. - -This feller Looney Hogan that was with me was a kind of a harmless -critter, and he didn't know jest where he was going, nor why. He was -mostly scared of things, and if you spoke to him quick he shivered first -and then grinned idiotic so you wouldn't kick him, and when he talked -he had a silly little giggle. He had been made that-a-way in a reform -school where they took him young and tried to work the cussedness out'n -him by batting him around. They worked it out, and purty nigh everything -else along with it, I guess. Looney had had a pardner whose name was -Slim, he said; but a couple of years before Slim had fell overboard -off'n a barge up to Duluth and never come up agin. Looney knowed Slim -was drownded all right, but he was always travelling around looking -at tanks and freight depots and switch shanties, fur Slim's mark to be -fresh cut with a knife somewheres, so he would know where to foller and -ketch up with him agin. He knowed he would never find Slim's mark, he -said, but he kept a-looking, and he guessed that was the way he got the -name of Looney. - -Looney left me at Evansville. He said he was going east from there, he -guessed. And I went along south. But I was hindered considerable, being -put off of trains three or four times, and having to grab these here -slow local freights between towns all the way down through Kentuckey. -Anywheres south of the Ohio River and east of the Mississippi River -trainmen is grouchier to them they thinks is bums than north of it, -anyhow. And in some parts of it, if a real bum gets pinched, heaven help -'im, fur nothing else won't. - -One night, between twelve and one o'clock, I was put off of a freight -train fur the second time in a place in the northern part of Tennessee, -right near the Kentuckey line. I set down in a lumber yard near the -railroad track, and when she started up agin I grabbed onto the iron -ladder and swung myself aboard. But the brakeman was watching fur me, -and clumb down the ladder and stamped on my fingers. So I dropped off, -with one finger considerable mashed, and set down in that lumber yard -wondering what next. - -It was a dark night, and so fur as I could see they wasn't much moving -in that town. Only a few places was lit up. One was way acrost the town -square from me, and it was the telephone exchange, with a man operator -reading a book in there. The other was the telegraph room in the depot -about a hundred yards from me, and they was only two fellers in it, -both smoking. The main business part of the town was built up around the -square, like lots of old-fashioned towns is, and they was jest enough -brightness from four, five electric lights to show the shape of the -square and be reflected from the windows of the closed-up stores. - -I knowed they was likely a watchman somewheres about, too. I guessed -I wouldn't wander around none and run no chances of getting took up by -him. So I was getting ready to lay down on top of a level pile of boards -and go to sleep when I hearn a curious kind of noise a way off, like it -must be at the edge of town. - -It sounded like quite a bunch of cattle might shuffling along a dusty -road. The night was so quiet you could hear things plain from a long -ways off. It growed a little louder and a little nearer. And then it -struck a plank bridge somewheres, and come acrost it with a clatter. -Then I knowed it wasn't cattle. Cows and steers don't make that -cantering kind of noise as a rule; they trot. It was hosses crossing -that bridge. And they was quite a lot of 'em. - -As they struck the dirt road agin, I hearn a shot. And then another and -another. Then a dozen all to oncet, and away off through the night a -woman screamed. - -I seen the man in the telephone place fling down his book and grab a -pistol from I don't know where. He stepped out into the street and fired -three shots into the air as fast as he could pull the trigger. And as he -done so they was a light flashed out in a building way down the railroad -track, and shots come answering from there. Men's voices began to yell -out; they was the noise of people running along plank sidewalks, and -windows opening in the dark. Then with a rush the galloping noise come -nearer, come closet; raced by the place where I was hiding, and nigh -a hundred men with guns swept right into the middle of that square and -pulled their hosses up. - - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -I seen the feller from the telephone exchange run down the street a -little ways as the first rush hit the square, and fire his pistol twice. -Then he turned and made fur an alleyway, but as he turned they let him -have it. He throwed up his arms and made one long stagger, right acrost -the bar of light that streamed out of the windows, and he fell into the -shadder, out of sight, jest like a scorched moth drops dead into the -darkness from a torch. - -Out of the middle of that bunch of riders come a big voice, yelling -numbers, instead of men's names. Then different crowds lit out in all -directions--some on foot, while others held their hosses--fur they -seemed to have a plan laid ahead. - -And then things began to happen. They happened so quick and with such a -whirl it was all unreal to me--shots and shouts, and windows breaking as -they blazed away at the store fronts all around the square--and orders -and cuss-words ringing out between the noise of shooting--and those -electric lights shining on them as they tossed and trampled, and -showing up masked faces here and there--and pounding hoofs, and hosses -scream--like humans with excitement--and spurts of flame squirted sudden -out of the ring of darkness round about the open place--and a bull-dog -shut up in a store somewheres howling himself hoarse--and white puffs of -powder smoke like ghosts that went a-drifting by the lights--it was all -unreal to me, as if I had a fever and was dreaming it. That square was -like a great big stage in front of me, and I laid in the darkness on my -lumber pile and watched things like a show--not much scared because it -_was_ so derned unreal. - -From way down along the railroad track they come a sort of blunted roar, -like blasting big stumps out--and then another and another. Purty soon, -down that way, a slim flame licked up the side of a big building there, -and crooked its tongue over the top. Then a second big building right -beside it ketched afire, and they both showed up in their own light, big -and angry and handsome, and the light showed up the men in front of 'em, -too--guarding 'em, I guess, fur fear the town would get its nerve and -make a fight to put 'em out. They begun to light the whole town up as -light as day, and paint a red patch onto the sky, that must of been -noticed fur miles around. It was a mighty purty sight to see 'em burn. -The smoke was rolling high, too, and the sparks flying and other things -in danger of ketching, and after while a lick of smoke come drifting up -my way. I smelt her. It was tobacco burning in them warehouses. - -But that town had some fight in her, in spite of being took unexpected -that-a-way. It wasn't no coward town. The light from the burning -buildings made all the shadders around about seem all the darker. And -every once in a while, after the surprise of the first rush, they would -come thin little streaks of fire out of the darkness somewheres, and the -sound of shots. And then a gang of riders would gallop in that direction -shooting up all creation. But by the time the warehouses was all lit up -so that you could see they was no hope of putting them out the shooting -from the darkness had jest about stopped. - -It looked like them big tobacco warehouses was the main object of the -raid. Fur when they was burning past all chancet of saving, with walls -and floors a-tumbling and crashing down and sending up great gouts of -fresh flame as they fell, the leader sings out an order, and all that is -not on their hosses jumps on, and they rides away from the blaze. They -come across the square--not galloping now, but taking it easy, laughing -and talking and cussing and joking each other--and passed right by my -lumber pile agin and down the street they had come. You bet I laid low -on them boards while they was going by, and flattened myself out till I -felt like a shingle. - -As I hearn their hoof-sounds getting farther off, I lifts up my head -agin. But they wasn't all gone, either. Three that must of been up to -some pertic'ler deviltry of their own come galloping acrost the square -to ketch up with the main bunch. Two was quite a bit ahead of the third -one, and he yelled to them to wait. But they only laughed and rode -harder. - -And then fur some fool reason that last feller pulled up his hoss and -stopped. He stopped in the road right in front of me, and wheeled his -hoss acrost the road and stood up in his stirrups and took a long look -at that blaze. You'd 'a' said he had done it all himself and was mighty -proud of it, the way he raised his head and looked back at that town. He -was so near that I hearn him draw in a slow, deep breath. He stood still -fur most a minute like that, black agin the red sky, and then he turned -his hoss's head and jabbed him with his stirrup edge. - -Jest as the hoss started they come a shot from somewheres behind me. -I s'pose they was some one hid in the lumber piles, where the street -crossed the railway, besides myself. The hoss jumped forward at the -shot, and the feller swayed sideways and dropped his gun and lost his -stirrups and come down heavy on the ground. His hoss galloped off. I -heard the noise of some one running off through the dark, and stumbling -agin the lumber. It was the feller who had fired the shot running away. -I suppose he thought the rest of them riders would come back, when they -heard that shot, and hunt him down. - -I thought they might myself. But I laid there, and jest waited. If they -come, I didn't want to be found running. But they didn't come. The two -last ones had caught up with the main gang, I guess, fur purty soon -I hearn them all crossing that plank bridge agin, and knowed they was -gone. - -At first I guessed the feller on the ground must be dead. But he wasn't, -fur purty soon I hearn him groan. He had mebby been stunned by his fall, -and was coming to enough to feel his pain. - -I didn't feel like he orter be left there. So I clumb down and went over -to him. He was lying on one side all kind of huddled up. There had -been a mask on his face, like the rest of them, with some hair onto the -bottom of it to look like a beard. But now it had slipped down till it -hung loose around his neck by the string. They was enough light to see -he wasn't nothing but a young feller. He raised himself slow as I come -near him, leaning on one arm and trying to set up. The other arm hung -loose and helpless. Half setting up that-away he made a feel at his belt -with his good hand, as I come near. But that good arm was his prop, and -when he took it off the ground he fell back. His hand come away empty -from his belt. - -The big six-shooter he had been feeling fur wasn't in its holster, -anyhow. It had fell out when he tumbled. I picked it up in the road -jest a few feet from his shot-gun, and stood there with it in my hand, -looking down at him. - -“Well,” he says, in a drawly kind of voice, slow and feeble, but looking -at me steady and trying to raise himself agin, “yo' can finish yo' -little job now--yo' shot me from the darkness, and now yo' done got my -pistol. I reckon yo' better shoot _agin_.” - -“I don't want to rub it in none,” I says, “with you down and out, but -from what I seen around this town to-night I guess you and your own gang -got no _great_ objections to shooting from the dark yourselves.” - -“Why don't yo' shoot then?” he says. “It most suttinly is _yo_' turn now.” - And he never batted an eye. - -“Bo,” I says, “you got nerve. I _like_ you, Bo. I didn't shoot you, and I -ain't going to. The feller that did has went. I'm going to get you out -of this. Where you hurt?” - -“Hip,” he says, “but that ain't much. The thing that bothers me is this -arm. It's done busted. I fell on it.” - -I drug him out of the road and back of the lumber pile I had been laying -on, and hurt him considerable a-doing it. - -“Now,” I says, “what can I do fur you?” - -“I reckon yo' better leave me,” he says, “without yo' want to get -yo'self mixed up in all this.” - -“If I do,” I says, “you may bleed to death here: or anyway you would get -found in the morning and be run in.” - -“Yo' mighty good to me,” says he, “considering yo' are no kin to this -here part of the country at all. I reckon by yo' talk yo' are one of -them damn Yankees, ain't yo'?” - -In Illinoise a Yankee is some one from the East, but down South he is -anybody from north of the Ohio, and though that there war was fought -forty years ago some of them fellers down there don't know damn and -Yankee is two words yet. But shucks!--they don't mean no harm by it! So -I tells him I am a damn Yankee and asts him agin if I can do anything -fur him. - -“Yes,” he says, “yo' can tell a friend of mine Bud Davis has happened -to an accident, and get him over here quick with his wagon to tote me -home.” - -I was to go down the railroad track past them burning warehouses till -I come to the third street, and then turn to my left. “The third house -from the track has got an iron picket fence in front of it,” says Bud, -“and it's the only house in that part of town which has. Beauregard -Peoples lives there. He is kin to me.” - -“Yes,” I says, “and Beauregard is jest as likely as not going to take a -shot out of the front window at me, fur luck, afore I can tell him what -I want. It seems to be a kind of habit in these here parts to-night--I'm -getting homesick fur Illinoise. But I'll take a chancet.” - -“He won't shoot,” says Bud, “if yo' go about it right. Beauregard ain't -going to be asleep with all this going on in town to-night. Yo' rattle -on the iron gate and he'll holler to know what yo' all want.” - -“If he don't shoot first,” I says. - -“When he hollers, yo' cry back at him yo' have found his _Old Dead Hoss_ -in the road. It won't hurt to holler that loud, and that will make him -let you within talking distance.” - -“His old _dead hoss_?” - -“Yo' don't need to know what that is. _He_ will.” And then Bud told -me enough of the signs and words to say, and things to do, to keep -Beauregard from shooting--he said he reckoned he had trusted me so much -he might as well go the hull hog. Beauregard, he says, belongs to them -riders too; they have friends in all the towns that watches the lay of -the land fur them, he says. - -I made a long half-circle around them burning buildings, keeping in the -dark, fur people was coming out in bunches, now that it was all over -with, watching them fires burning, and talking excited, and saying the -riders should be follered--only not follering. - -I found the house Bud meant, and they was a light in the second-story -window. I rattled on the gate. A dog barked somewheres near, but I hearn -his chain jangle and knowed he was fast, and I rattled on the gate agin. - -The light moved away from the window. Then another front window opened -quiet, and a voice says: - -“Doctor, is that yo' back agin?” - -“No,” I says, “I ain't a doctor.” - -“Stay where you are, then. _I got you covered_.” - -“I am staying,” I says, “don't shoot.” - -“Who are yo'?” - -“A feller,” I says, kind of sensing his gun through the darkness as I -spoke, “who has found your _old dead hoss_ in the road.” - -He didn't answer fur several minutes. Then he says, using the words _dead -hoss_ as Bud had said he would. - -“A _dead hoss_ is fitten fo' nothing but to skin.” - -“Well,” I says, using the words fur the third time, as instructed, “it -is a _dead hoss_ all right.” - -I hearn the window shut and purty soon the front door opened. - -“Come up here,” he says. I come. - -“Who rode that hoss yo' been talking about?” he asts. - -“One of the _Silent Brigade_,” I tells him, as Bud had told me to say. I -give him the grip Bud had showed me with his good hand. - -“Come on in,” he says. - -He shut the door behind us and lighted a lamp agin. And we looked each -other over. He was a scrawny little feller, with little gray eyes set -near together, and some sandy-complected whiskers on his chin. I told -him about Bud, and what his fix was. - -“Damn it--oh, damn it all,” he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I -don't see how on _airth_ I kin do it. My wife's jest had a baby. Do yo' -hear that?” - -And I did hear a sound like kittens mewing, somewheres up stairs. -Beauregard, he grinned and rubbed his nose some more, and looked at me -like he thought that mewing noise was the smartest sound that ever was -made. - -“Boy,” he says, grinning, “bo'n five hours ago. I've done named him -Burley--after the tobaccer association, yo' know. Yes, _sir_, Burley -Peoples is his name--and he shore kin squall, the derned little cuss!” - -“Yes,” I says, “you better stay with Burley. Lend me a rig of some sort -and I'll take Bud home.” - -So we went out to Beauregard's stable with a lantern and hitched up one -of his hosses to a light road wagon. He went into the house and come -back agin with a mattress fur Bud to lie on, and a part of a bottle of -whiskey. And I drove back to that lumber pile. I guess I nearly killed -Bud getting him into there. But he wasn't bleeding much from his hip--it -was his arm was giving him fits. - -We went slow, and the dawn broke with us four miles out of town. It was -broad daylight, and early morning noises stirring everywheres, when we -drove up in front of an old farmhouse, with big brick chimbleys built on -the outside of it, a couple of miles farther on. - - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -As I drove into the yard, a bare-headed old nigger with a game leg -throwed down an armful of wood he was gathering and went limping up -to the veranda as fast as he could. He opened the door and bawled out, -pointing to us, before he had it fairly open: - -“O Marse _Will_yum! O Miss _Lucy_! Dey've brung him home! _Dar_ he!” - -[Illustration: 0217] - -A little, bright, black-eyed old lady like a wren comes running out of -the house, and chirps: - -“O Bud--O my honey boy! Is he dead?” - -“I reckon not, Miss Lucy,” says Bud raising himself up on the mattress -as she runs up to the wagon, and trying to act like everything was all -a joke. She was jest high enough to kiss him over the edge of the wagon -box. A worried-looking old gentleman come out the door, seen Bud and his -mother kissing each other, and then says to the old nigger man: - -“George, yo' old fool, what do yo' mean by shouting out like that?” - -“Marse Willyum--” begins George, explaining. - -“Shut up,” says the old gentleman, very quiet. “Take the bay mare and go -for Doctor Po'ter.” Then he comes to the wagon and says: - -“So they got yo', Bud? Yo' _would_ go nightriding like a rowdy and a thug! -Are yo' much hurt?” - -He said it easy and gentle, more than mad. But Bud, he flushed up, pale -as he was, and didn't answer his dad direct. He turned to his mother and -said: - -“Miss Lucy, dear, it would 'a' done yo' heart good to see the way them -trust warehouses blazed up!” - -And the old lady, smiling and crying both to oncet, says, “God bless her -brave boy.” But the old gentleman looked mighty serious, and his worry -settled into a frown between his eyes, and he turns to me and says: - -“Yo' must pardon us, sir, fo' neglecting to thank yo' sooner.” I told -him that would be all right, fur him not to worry none. And him and me -and Mandy, which was the nigger cook, got Bud into the house and into -his bed. And his mother gets that busy ordering Mandy and the old -gentleman around, to get things and fix things, and make Bud as easy -as she could, that you could see she was one of them kind of woman that -gets a lot of satisfaction out of having some one sick to fuss over. And -after quite a while George gets back with Doctor Porter. - -He sets Bud's arm, and he locates the bullet in him, and he says he -guesses he'll do in a few weeks if nothing like blood poisoning nor -gangrene nor inflammation sets in. - -Only the doctor says he “reckons” instead of he “guesses,” which they -all do down there. And they all had them easy-going, wait-a-bit kind -of voices, and didn't see no pertic'ler importance in their “r's.” It -wasn't that you could spell it no different when they talked, but it -sounded different. - -I eat my breakfast with the old gentleman, and then I took a sleep until -time fur dinner. They wouldn't hear of me leaving that night. I fully -intended to go on the next day, but before I knowed it I been there a -couple of days, and have got very well acquainted with that fambly. - -Well, that was a house divided agin itself. Miss Lucy, she is awful -favourable to all this nightrider business. She spunks up and her eyes -sparkles whenever she thinks about that there tobaccer trust. - -She would of like to been a night-rider herself. But the old man, he -says law and order is the main pint. What the country needs, he says, -ain't burning down tobaccer warehouses, and shooting your neighbours, -and licking them with switches, fur no wrong done never righted another -wrong. - -“But you were in the Ku Klux Klan yo'self,” says Miss Lucy. - -The old man says the Ku Kluxes was working fur a principle--the -principle of keeping the white supremacy on top of the nigger race. Fur -if you let 'em quit work and go around balloting and voting it won't -do. It makes 'em biggity. And a biggity nigger is laying up trouble fur -himself. Because sooner or later he will get to thinking he is as good -as one of these here Angle-Saxtons you are always hearing so much talk -about down South. And if the Angle-Saxtons was to stand fur that, purty -soon they would be sociable equality. And next the hull dern country -would be niggerized. Them there Angle-Saxtons, that come over from -Ireland and Scotland and France and the Great British Islands and -settled up the South jest simply couldn't afford to let that happen, he -says, and so they Ku Kluxed the niggers to make 'em quit voting. It was -_their_ job to _make_ law and order, he says, which they couldn't be with -niggers getting the idea they had a right to govern. So they Ku Kluxed -'em like gentlemen. But these here night-riders, he says, is _agin_ law -and order--they can shoot up more law and order in one night than can be -manufactured agin in ten years. He was a very quiet, peaceable old man, -Mr. Davis was, and Bud says he was so dern foolish about law and order -he had to up and shoot a man, about fifteen years ago, who hearn him -talking that-a-way and said he reminded him of a Boston school teacher. - -But Miss Lucy and Bud, they tells me what all them night-ridings is -fur. It seems this here tobaccer trust is jest as mean and low-down and -unprincipled as all the rest of them trusts. The farmers around there -raised considerable tobaccer--more'n they did of anything else. The -trust had shoved the price so low they couldn't hardly make a living. -So they organized and said they would all hold their tobaccer fur a fair -price. But some of the farmers wouldn't organize--said they had a right -to do what they pleased with their own tobaccer. So the night-riders was -formed to burn their barns and ruin their crops and whip 'em and shoot -'em and make 'em jine. And also to burn a few trust warehouses now and -then, and show 'em this free American people, composed mainly out of the -Angle-Saxton races, wasn't going to take no sass from anybody. - -An old feller by the name of Rufe Daniels who wouldn't jine the -night-riders had been shot to death on his own door step, jest about a -mile away, only a week or so before. The night-riders mostly used these -here automatic shot-guns, but they didn't bother with birdshot. They -mostly loaded their shells with buckshot. A few bicycle ball bearings -dropped out of old Rufe when they gathered him up and got him into shape -to plant. They is always some low-down cuss in every crowd that carries -things to the point where they get brutal, Bud says; and he feels like -them bicycle bearings was going a little too fur, though he wouldn't let -on to his dad that he felt that-a-way. - -So fur as I could see they hadn't hurt the trust none to speak of, them -night-riders. But they had done considerable damage to their own county, -fur folks was moving away, and the price of land had fell. Still, I -guess they must of got considerable satisfaction out of raising the -deuce nights that-away; and sometimes that is worth a hull lot to a -feller. As fur as I could make out both the trust and the night-riders -was in the wrong. But, you take 'em one at a time, personal-like, and -not into a gang, and most of them night-riders is good-dispositioned -folks. I never knowed any trusts personal, but mebby if you could ketch -'em the same way they would be similar. - -I asts George one day what he thought about it. George, he got mighty -serious right off, like he felt his answer was going to be used to -decide the hull thing by. He was carrying a lot of scraps on a plate to -a hound dog that had a kennel out near George's cabin, and he walled his -eyes right thoughtful, and scratched his head with the fork he had been -scraping the plate with, but fur a while nothing come of it. Finally -George says: - -“I'se 'spec' mah jedgment des about de same as Marse _Will_yum's an' Miss -_Lucy_'s. I'se notice hit mos' ingin'lly am de same.” - -“That can't be, George,” says I, “fur they think different ways.” - -“Den if _dat_ am de case,” says George, “dey ain't NO ONE kin settle hit -twell hit settles hitse'f. - -“I'se mos' ingin'lly notice a thing _do_ settle hitse'f arter a while. -Yass, _sah_, I'se notice dat! Long time ago dey was consid'ble gwines-on -in dis hyah county, Marse Daniel. I dunno ef yo' evah heah 'bout dat o' -not, Marse Daniel, but dey was a wah fit right hyah in dis hyah county. -Such gwines-on as nevah was--dem dar Yankees a-ridin' aroun' an' eatin' -up de face o' de yearth, like de plagues o' Pha'aoah, Marse Daniel, and -rippin' and rarin' an' racin' an' stealin' evehything dey could lay -dey han's on, Marse Daniel. An' ouah folks a-ridin' and a racin' and -projickin' aroun' in de same onsettled way. - -“Marse Willyum, he 'low _he_ gwine settle dat dar wah he-se'f--yass, _sah!_ -An' he got on he hoss, and he ride away an' jine Marse Jeb Stuart. But -dey don' settle hit. Marse Ab'ham Linkum, he 'low _he_ gwine settle hit, -an' sen' millyums an' millyums mo' o' dem Yankees down hyah, Marse -Daniel. But dey des _on_settle hit wuss'n evah! But arter a while it des -settle _hit_se'f. - -“An' den freedom broke out among de niggers, and dey was mo' -gwines-_on_, an' talkin', an' some on 'em 'lowed dey was gwine ter -be no mo' wohk, Marse Daniel. But arter a while dat settle -_hit_se'f, and dey all went back to wohk agin. Den some on de -niggers gits de notion, Marse Daniel, dey gwine foh to _vote_. An' -dey was mo' gwines-on, an' de Ku Kluxes come a projickin' aroun' nights, -like de grave-yahds done been resu'rected, Marse Daniel, an' den arter a -while dat trouble settle _hit_se'f. - -“Den arter de Ku Kluxes dey was de time Miss Lucy Buckner gwine ter mahy -Marse Prent McMakin. An' she don' want to ma'hy him, if dey give her her -druthers about hit. But Ol' Marse Kunnel Hampton, her gram-pa, and her -aunt, _my_ Miss Lucy hyah, dey ain't gwine give her no druthers. And dey -was mo' gwines-_on_. But dat settle _hit_se'f, too.” - -George, he begins to chuckle, and I ast him how. - -“Yass, _sah_, dat settle _hit_se'f. But I 'spec' Miss Lucy Buckner done -he'p some in de settle_ment_. Foh de day befoh de weddin' was gwine ter -be, she ups an' she runs off wid a Yankee frien' of her brother, Kunnel -Tom Buckner. An' I'se 'spec' Kunnel Tom an' Marse Prent McMakin would o' -settle' _him_ ef dey evah had o' cotched him--dat dar David Ahmstrong!” - -“Who?” says I. - -“David Ahmstrong was his entitlement,” says George, “an' he been gwine -to de same college as Marse Tom Buckner, up no'th somewhah. Dat's -how-come he been visitin' Marse Tom des befoh de weddin' trouble done -settle _hit_ se'f dat-away.” - -Well, it give me quite a turn to run onto the mention of that there -David Armstrong agin in this part of the country. Here he had been -jilting Miss Hampton way up in Indiany, and running away with another -girl down here in Tennessee. Then it struck me mebby it is jest -different parts of the same story I been hearing of, and Martha had got -her part a little wrong. - -“George,” I says, “what did you say Miss Lucy Buckner's gran-dad's name -was?” - -“Kunnel Hampton--des de same as _my_ Miss Lucy befo' _she_ done ma'hied -Marse Willyum.” - -That made me sure of it. It was the same woman. She had run away with -David Armstrong from this here same neighbourhood. Then after he got -her up North he had left her--or her left him. And then she wasn't -Miss Buckner no longer. And she was mad and wouldn't call herself Mrs. -Armstrong. So she moved away from where any one was lible to trace her -to, and took her mother's maiden name, which was Hampton. - -“Well,” I says, “what ever become of 'em after they run off, George?” - -But George has told about all he knows. They went North, according to -what everybody thinks, he says. Prent McMakin, he follered and hunted. -And Col. Tom Buckner, he done the same. Fur about a year Colonel Tom, -he was always making trips away from there to the North. But whether he -ever got any track of his sister and that David Armstrong nobody knowed. -Nobody never asked him. Old Colonel Hampton, he grieved and he grieved, -and not long after the runaway he up and died. And Tom Buckner, he -finally sold all he owned in that part of the country and moved further -south. George said he didn't rightly know whether it was Alabama or -Florida. Or it might of been Georgia. - -I thinks to myself that mebby Mrs. Davis would like to know where her -niece is, and that I better tell her about Miss Hampton being in that -there little Indiany town, and where it is. And then I thinks to myself -I better not butt in. Fur Miss Hampton has likely got her own reasons -fur keeping away from her folks, or else she wouldn't do it. Anyhow, -it's none of _my_ affair to bring the subject up to 'em. It looks to -me like one of them things George has been gassing about--one of them -things that has settled itself, and it ain't fur me to meddle and -unsettle it. - -It set me to thinking about Martha, too. Not that I hadn't thought of -her lots of times. I had often thought I would write her. But I kept -putting it off, and purty soon I kind of forgot Martha. I had seen a lot -of different girls of all kinds since I had seen Martha. Yet, whenever -I happened to think of Martha, I had always liked her best. Only moving -around the country so much makes it kind of hard to keep thinking steady -of the same girl. Besides, I had lost that there half of a ring, too. - -But knowing what I did now about Miss Hampton being Miss Buckner--or -Mrs. Armstrong--and related to these Davises made me want to get away -from there. Fur that secret made me feel kind of sneaking, like I wasn't -being frank and open with them. Yet if I had of told 'em I would of felt -sneakinger yet fur giving Miss Hampton away. I never got into a mix up -that-a-way betwixt my conscience and my duty but what it made me feel -awful uncomfortable. So I guessed I would light out from there. They -wasn't never no kinder, better people than them Davises, either. They -was so pleased with my bringing Bud home the night he was shot they -would of jest natcherally give me half their farm if I had of ast them -fur it. They wanted me to stay there--they didn't say fur how long, and -I guess they didn't give a dern. But I was in a sweat to ketch up with -Doctor Kirby agin. - - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -I made purty good time, and in a couple of days I was in Atlanta. I -knowed the doctor must of gone back into some branch of the medicine -game--the bottles told me that. I knowed it must be something that he -needed some special kind of bottles fur, too, or he wouldn't of had them -shipped all that distance, but would of bought them nearer. I seen I was -a dern fool fur rushing off and not inquiring what kind of bottles, so I -could trace what he was into easier. - -It's hard work looking fur a man in a good-sized town. I hung around -hotel lobbies and places till I was tired of it, thinking he might -come in. And I looked through all the office buildings and read all the -advertisements in the papers. Then the second day I was there the state -fair started up and I went out to it. - -I run acrost a couple I knowed out there the first thing--it was Watty -and the snake-charmer woman. Only she wasn't charming them now. Her and -Watty had a Parisian Models' show. I ast Watty where Dolly was. He says -he don't know, that Dolly has quit him. By which I guess he means he has -quit her. I ast where Reginald is, and the Human Ostrich. But from -the way they answered my questions I seen I wasn't welcome none around -there. I suppose that Mrs. Ostrich and Watty had met up agin somewheres, -and had jest natcherally run off with each other and left their -famblies. Like as not she had left poor old Reginald with that idiotic -ostrich feller to sell to strangers that didn't know his disposition. Or -mebby by now Reginald was turned loose in the open country to shift -fur himself, among wild snakes that never had no human education nor -experience; and what chancet would a friendly snake like Reginald have -in a gang like that? Some women has jest simply got no conscience at all -about their husbands and famblies, and that there Mrs. Ostrich was one -of 'em. - -Well, a feller can be a derned fool sometimes. Fur all my looking around -I wasted a lot of time before I thought of going to the one natcheral -place--the freight depot of the road them bottles had been shipped by. -I had lost a week coming down. But freight often loses more time than -that. And it was at the freight depot that I found him. - -Tickled? Well, yes! Both of us. - -“Well, by George,” says he, “you're good for sore eyes.” - -Before he told me how he happened not to of drownded or blowed away or -anything he says we better fix up a bit. Which he meant I better. So he -buys me duds from head to heel, and we goes to a Turkish bath place and -I puts 'em on. And then we goes and eats. Hearty. - -“Now,” he says, “Fido Cut-up, how did you find me?” * - -I told him about the bottles. - -“A dead loss, those bottles,” he says. “I wanted some non-refillable -ones for a little scheme I had in mind, and I had to get them at a -certain place--and now the scheme's up in the air and I can't use 'em.” - -The doctor had changed some in looks in the year or more that had passed -since I saw him floating away in that balloon. And not fur the better. -He told me how he had blowed clean acrost Lake Erie in that there -balloon. And then when he got over land agin and went to pull the -cord that lets the parachute loose it wouldn't work at first. He jest -natcherally drifted on into the midst of nowhere, he said--miles and -miles into Canada. When he lit the balloon had lost so much gas and was -flying so low that the parachute didn't open out quick enough to do -much floating. So he lit hard, and come near being knocked out fur good. -But-- - - *_Author's Note_--Can it be that Danny struggles vaguely - to report some reference to _fidus achates_? - -that wasn't the worst of it, fur the exposure had crawled into his lungs -by the time he found a house, and he got newmonia into them also, and -like to of died. Whilst I was laying sick he had been sick also, only -his'n lasted much longer. - -But he tells me he has jest struck an idea fur a big scheme. No little -schemes go fur him any more, he says. He wants money. Real money. - -“How you going to get it?” I asts him. - -“Come along and I'll tell you,” he says. “We'll take a walk, and I'll -show you how I got my idea.” - -We left the restaurant and went along the brag street of that town, -which it is awful proud of, past where the stores stops and the houses -begins. We come to a fine-looking house on a corner--a swell place it -was, with lots of palms and ferns and plants setting on the verandah -and showing through the windows. And stables back of it; and back of -the stables a big yard with noises coming from it like they was circus -animals there. Which I found out later they really was, kept fur pets. -You could tell the people that lived there had money. - -“This,” says Doctor Kirby, as we walked by, “is the house that Jackson -built. Dr. Julius Jackson--_old_ Doctor Jackson, the man with an idea! The -idea made all the money you smell around here.” - -[Illustration: 0235] - -“What idea?” - -“The idea--the glorious humanitarian and philanthropic idea--of taking -the kinks and curls out of the hair of the Afro-American brother,” says -Doctor Kirby, “at so much per kink.” - -This Doctor Jackson, he says, sells what he calls Anti-Curl to the -niggers. It is to straighten out their hair so it will look like white -people's hair. They is millions and millions of niggers, and every -nigger has millions and millions of kinks, and so Doctor Jackson has -got rich at it. So rich he can afford to keep that there personal circus -menagerie in his back yard, for his little boy to play with, and many -other interesting things. He must be worth two, three million dollars, -Doctor Kirby says, and still a-making it, with more niggers growing up -all the time fur to have their hair unkinked. Especially mulattoes -and yaller niggers. Doctor Kirby says thinking what a great idea that -Anti-Curl was give him his own great idea. They is a gold mine there, he -says, and Dr. Julius Jackson has only scratched a little off the top of -it, but _he_ is going to dig deeper. - -“Why is it that the Afro-American brother buys Anti-Curl?” he asts. - -“Why?” I asts. - -“Because,” he says, “he wants to be as much like a white man as he -possibly can. He strives to burst his birth's invidious bar, Danny. -They talk about progress and education for the Afro-American brother, and -uplift and advancement and industrial education and manual training -and all that sort of thing. Especially we Northerners. But what the -Afro-American brother thinks about and dreams about and longs for and -prays to be--when he thinks at all--is to be white. Education, to his -mind, is learning to talk like a white man. Progress means aping the -white man. Religion is dying and going to heaven and being a _white_ -angel--listen to his prayers and sermons and you'll find that out. He'll -do anything he can, or give anything he can get his Ethiopian grubhooks -on, for something that he thinks is going to make him more like a white -man. Poor devil! Therefore the millions of Doctor Jackson Anti-Curl. - -“All this Doctor Jackson Anti-Curl has discovered and thought out and -acted upon. If he had gone just one step farther the Afro-American -brother would have hailed him as a greater man than Abraham Lincoln, -or either of the Washingtons, George or Booker. It remains for me, -Danny--for _us_--to carry the torch ahead--to take up the work where the -imagination of Doctor Jackson Anti-Curl has laid it down.” - -“How?” asts I. - -“_We'll put up and sell a preparation to turn the negroes white!_” - -_That_ was his great idea. He was more excited over it than I ever seen -him before about anything. - -It sounded like so easy a way to get rich it made me wonder why no one -had ever done it before, if it could really be worked. I didn't believe -much it could be worked. - -But Doctor Kirby, he says he has begun his experiments already, with -arsenic. Arsenic, he says, will bleach anything. Only he is kind of -afraid of arsenic, too. If he could only get hold of something that -didn't cost much, and that would whiten them up fur a little while, he -says, it wouldn't make no difference if they did get black agin. This -here Anti-Curl stuff works like that--it takes the kinks out fur a -little while, and they come back agin. But that don't seem to hurt the -sale none. It only calls fur _more_ of Doctor Jackson's medicine. - -The doctor takes me around to the place he boards at, and shows me a -nigger waiter he has been experimenting on. He had paid the nigger's -fine in a police court fur slashing another nigger some with a knife, -and kept him from going into the chain-gang. So the nigger agreed he -could use his hide to try different kinds of medicines on. He was a -velvety-looking, chocolate-coloured kind of nigger to start with, and -the best Doctor Kirby had been able to do so fur was to make a few -little liver-coloured spots come onto him. But it was making the nigger -sick, and the doctor was afraid to go too fur with it, fur Sam might die -and we would be at the expense of another nigger. Peroxide of hidergin -hadn't even phased him. Nor a lot of other things we tried onto him. - -You never seen a nigger with his colour running into him so deep as -Sam's did. Sam, he was always apologizing about it, too. You could see -it made him feel real bad to think his colour was so stubborn. He felt -like it wasn't being polite to the doctor and me, Sam did, fur his skin -to act that-a-way. He was a willing nigger, Sam was. The doctor, he says -he will find out the right stuff if he has to start at the letter A and -work Sam through every drug in the hull blame alphabet down to Z. - -Which he finally struck it. I don't exactly know what she had in her, -but she was a mixture of some kind. The only trouble with her was she -didn't work equal and even--left Sam's face looking peeled and spotty in -places. But still, in them spots, Sam was six shades lighter. -The doctor says that is jest what he wants, that there -passing on-to-the-next-cage-we-have-the-spotted-girocutus-look, as he -calls it. The chocolate brown and the lighter spots side by side, he -says, made a regular Before and After out of Sam's face, and was the -best advertisement you could have. - -Then we goes and has a talk with Doctor Jackson himself. Doctor Kirby -has the idea mebby he will put some money into it. Doctor Jackson was -setting on his front veranda with his chair tilted back, and his feet, -with red carpet slippers on 'em, was on the railing, and he was smoking -one of these long black cigars that comes each one in a little glass -tube all by itself. He looks Sam over very thoughtful, and he says: - -“Yes, it will do the work well enough. I can see that. But will it -sell?” - -Doctor Kirby makes him quite a speech. I never hearn him make a better -one. Doctor Jackson he listens very calm, with his thumbs in the -armholes of his vest, and moving his eyebrows up and down like he -enjoyed it. But he don't get excited none. Finally Doctor Kirby says he -will undertake to show that it will sell--me and him will take a trip -down into the black country ourselves and show what can be done with it, -and take Sam along fur an object lesson. - -Well, they was a lot of rag-chewing. Doctor Jackson don't warm up none, -and he asts a million questions. Like how much it costs a bottle to make -it, and what was our idea how much it orter sell fur. He says finally -if we can sell a certain number of bottles in so long a time he will put -some money into it. Only, he says, they will be a stock company, and he -will have to have fifty-one per cent. of the stock, or he won't put no -money into it. He says if things go well he will let Doctor Kirby be -manager of that company, and let him have some stock in it too, and he -will be president and treasurer of it himself. - -Doctor Kirby, he didn't like that, and said so. Said _he_ was going to -organize that stock company, and control it himself. But Doctor Jackson -said he never put money into nothing he couldn't run. So it was settled -we would give the stuff a try-out and report to him. Before we went away -from there it looked to me like Doctor Kirby and me was going to work -fur this here Doctor Jackson, instead of making all them there millions -fur ourselves. Which I didn't take much to that Anti-Curl man myself; he -was so cold-blooded like. - -I didn't like the scheme itself any too well, neither. Not any way you -could look at it. In the first place it seemed like a mean trick on the -niggers. Then I didn't much believe we could get away with it. - -The more I looked him over the more I seen Doctor Kirby had changed -considerable. When I first knowed him he liked to hear himself talking -and he liked to live free and easy and he liked to be running around -the country and all them things, more'n he liked to be making money. -Of course, he wanted it; but that wasn't the _only_ thing he was into the -Sagraw game fur. If he had money, he was free with it and would help -most any one out of a hole. But he wasn't thinking it and talking it all -the time then. - -But now he was thinking money and dreaming money and talking of nothing -but how to get it. And planning to make it out of skinning them niggers. -He didn't care a dern how he worked on their feelings to get it. He -didn't even seem to care whether he killed Sam trying them drugs onto -him. He wanted _money_, and he wanted it so bad he was ready and willing -to take up with most any wild scheme to make it. - -They was something about him now that didn't fit in much with the Doctor -Kirby I had knowed. It seemed like he had spells when he saw himself how -he had changed. He wasn't gay and joking all the time like he had been -before, neither. I guess the doctor was getting along toward fifty years -old. I suppose he thought if he was ever going to get anything out of -his gift of the gab he better settle down to something, and quit fooling -around, and do it right away. But it looked to me like he might never -turn the trick. Fur he was drinking right smart all the time. Drinking -made him think a lot, and thinking was making him look old. He was -more'n one year older than he had been a year ago. - -He kept a quart bottle in his room now. The night after we had took Sam -to see Doctor Jackson we was setting in his room, and he was hitting it -purty hard. - -“Danny,” he says to me, after a while, like he was talking out loud to -himself too, “what did you think of Doctor Jackson?” - -“I don't like him much,” I says. - -“Nor I,” he says, frowning, and takes a drink. Then he says, after quite -a few minutes of frowning and thinking, under his breath like: “He's a -blame sight more decent than I am, for all of that.” - -“Why?” I asts him. - -“Because Doctor Jackson,” he says, “hasn't the least idea that he _isn't_ -decent, and getting his money in a decent way. While at one time I -was--” - -He breaks off and don't say what he was. I asts him. “I was going to -say a gentleman,” he says, “but on reflection, I doubt if I was ever -anything but a cheap imitation. I never heard a man say that he was -a gentleman at one time, that I didn't doubt him. Also,” he goes on, -working himself into a better humour again with the sound of his own -voice, “if I _had_ ever been a gentleman at any time, enough of it would -surely have stuck to me to keep me out of partnership with a man who -cheats niggers.” - -He takes another drink and says even twenty years of running around the -country couldn't of took all the gentleman out of him like this, if he -had ever been one, fur you can break, you can scatter the vase if you -will, but the smell of the roses will stick round it still. - -I seen now the kind of conversations he is always having with himself -when he gets jest so drunk and is thinking hard. Only this time it -happens to be out loud. - -“What is a gentleman?” I asts him, thinking if he wasn't one it might -take his mind off himself a little to tell me. “What _makes_ one?” - -“Authorities differ,” says Doctor Kirby, slouching down in his chair, -and grinning like he knowed a joke he wasn't going to tell no one. “I -heard Doctor Jackson describe himself that way the other day.” - -Well, speaking personal, I never had smelled none of roses. I wasn't -nothing but trash myself, so being a gentleman didn't bother me one way -or the other. The only reason I didn't want to see them niggers bunked -so very bad was only jest because it was such a low-down, ornery kind of -trick. - -“It ain't too late,” I says, “to pull out of this nigger scheme yet and -get into something more honest.” - -“I don't know,” he says thoughtful. “I think perhaps it _is_ too late.” - And he sets there looking like a man that is going over a good many -years of life in his mind. Purty soon he says: - -“As far as honesty goes--it isn't that so much, O -Daniel-come-to-judgment! It's about as honest as most medicine games. -It's--” He stopped and frowned agin. - -“What is it?” - -“It's their being _niggers_,” he says. - -That made the difference fur me, too. I dunno how, nor why. - -“I've tried nearly everything but blackmail,” he says, “and I'll -probably be trying that by this time next year, if this scheme fails. -But there's something about their being niggers that makes me sick of -this thing already--just as the time has come to make the start. And -I don't know _why_ it should, either.” He slipped another big slug of -whiskey into him, and purty soon he asts me: - -“Do you know what's the matter with me?” - -I asts him what. - -“I'm too decent to be a crook,” he says, “and too crooked to be decent. -You've got to be one thing or the other steady to make it pay.” - -Then he says: - -“Did you ever hear of the descent to Avernus, Danny?” - -“I might,” I tells him, “and then agin I mightn't, but if I ever did, I -don't remember what she is. What is she?” - -“It's the chute to the infernal regions,” he says. “They say it's -greased. But it isn't. It's really no easier sliding down than it is -climbing back.” - -Well, I seen this nigger scheme of our'n wasn't the only thing that was -troubling Doctor Kirby that night. It was thinking of all the schemes -like it in the years past he had went into, and how he had went into 'em -light-hearted and more'n half fur fun when he was a young man, and -now he wasn't fitten fur nothing else but them kind of schemes, and he -knowed it. He was seeing himself how he had been changing, like another -person could of seen it. That's the main trouble with drinking to fergit -yourself. You fergit the wrong part of yourself. - -I left him purty soon, and went along to bed. My room was next to his'n, -and they was a door between, so the two could be rented together if -wanted, I suppose. I went to sleep and woke up agin with a start out of -a dream that had in it millions and millions and millions of niggers, -every way you looked, and their mouths was all open red and their eyes -walled white, fit to scare you out of your shoes. - -I hearn Doctor Kirby moving around in his room. But purty soon he sets -down and begins to talk to himself. Everything else was quiet. I was -kind of worried about him, he had taken so much, and hoped he wouldn't -get a notion to go downtown that time o' night. So I thinks I will see -how he is acting, and steps over to the door between the rooms. - -The key happened to be on my side, and I unlocked it. But she only opens -a little ways, fur his wash stand was near to the hinge end of the door. - -I looked through. He is setting by the table, looking at a woman's -picture that is propped up on it, and talking to himself. He has never -hearn me open the door, he is so interested. But somehow, he don't look -drunk. He looks like he had fought his way up out of it, somehow--his -forehead was sweaty, and they was one intoxicated lock of hair sticking -to it; but that was the only un-sober-looking thing about him. I guess -his legs would of been unsteady if he had of tried to walk, but his -intellects was uncomfortable and sober. - -He is still keeping up that same old argument with himself, or with the -picture. - -“It isn't any use,” I hearn him say, looking at the picture. - -Then he listened like he hearn it answering him. “Yes, you always -say just that--just that,” he says. “And I don't know why I keep on -listening to you.” - -The way he talked, and harkened fur an answer, when they was nothing -there to answer, give me the creeps. - -“You don't help me,” he goes on, “you don't help me at all. You only -make it harder. Yes, this thing is worse than the others. I know that. -But I want money--and fool things like this _have_ sometimes made it. No, -I won't give it up. No, there's no use making any more promises now. I -know myself now. And you ought to know me by this time, too. Why can't -you let me alone altogether? I should think, when you see what I am, -you'd let me be. - -“God help you! if you'd only stay away it wouldn't be so hard to go to -hell!” - - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -There's a lot of counties in Georgia where the blacks are equal in -number to the whites, and two or three counties where the blacks number -over the whites by two to one. It was fur a little town in one of the -latter that we pinted ourselves, Doctor Kirby and me and Sam--right into -the blackest part of the black belt. - -That country is full of big-sized plantations, where they raise cotton, -cotton, cotton, and then _more_ cotton. Some of 'em raises fruit, too, and -other things, of course; but cotton is the main stand-by, and it looks -like it always will be. - -Some places there shows that things can't be so awful much changed since -slavery days, and most of the niggers are sure enough country niggers -yet. Some rents their land right out from the owners, and some of 'em -crops it on the shares, and very many of 'em jest works as hands. A lot -of 'em don't do nigh so well now as they did when their bosses was their -masters, they tell me; and then agin, some has done right well on their -own hook. They intrusted me, because I never had been use to looking at -so many niggers. Every way you turn there they is niggers and then more -niggers. - -Them that thinks they is awful easy to handle out of a natcheral respect -fur white folks has got another guess coming. They ain't so bad to get -along with if you keep it most pintedly shoved into their heads they -_is_ niggers. You got to do that especial in the black belt, jest because -they _is_ so many of 'em. They is children all their lives, mebby, till -some one minute of craziness may strike one of them, and then he is a -devil temporary. Mebby, when the crazy fit has passed, some white woman -is worse off than if she was dead, or mebby she _is_ dead, or mebby a -loonatic fur life, and that nigger is a candidate fur a lynching bee and -ginerally elected by an anonymous majority. - -Not that _all_ niggers is that-a-way, nor _half_ of 'em, nor very _many_ of -'em, even--but you can never tell _which_ nigger is going to be. So in the -black belt the white folks is mighty pertic'ler who comes along fooling -with their niggers. Fur you can never tell what turn a nigger's thoughts -will take, once anything at all stirs 'em up. - -We didn't know them things then, Doctor Kirby and me didn't. We didn't -know we was moving light-hearted right into the middle of the biggest -question that has ever been ast. Which I disremember exactly how that -nigger question is worded, but they is always asting it in the South, -and answering of it different ways. We hadn't no idea how suspicious the -white people in them awful black spots on the map can get over any one -that comes along talking to their niggers. We didn't know anything about -niggers much, being both from the North, except what Doctor Kirby had -counted on when he made his medicine, and _that_ he knowed second-handed -from other people. We didn't take 'em very serious, nor all the talk we -hearn about 'em down South. - -But even at that we mightn't of got into any trouble if it hadn't of -been fur old Bishop Warren. But that is getting ahead of the story. - -We got into that little town--I might jest as well call it -Cottonville--jest about supper time. Cottonville is a little place -of not more'n six hundred people. I guess four hundred of 'em must be -niggers. - -After supper we got acquainted with purty nigh all the prominent -citizens in town. They was friendly with us, and we was friendly with -them. Georgia had jest went fur prohibition a few months before that, -and they hadn't opened up these here near-beer bar-rooms in the little -towns yet, like they had in Atlanta and the big towns. Georgia had went -prohibition so the niggers couldn't get whiskey, some said; but others -said they didn't know _what_ its excuse was. Them prominent citizens was -loafing around the hotel and every now and then inviting each other very -mysterious into a back room that use to be a pool parlour. They had -been several jugs come to town by express that day. We went back several -times ourselves, and soon began to get along purty well with them -prominent citizens. - -Talking about this and that they finally edges around to the one -thing everybody is sure to get to talking about sooner or later in the -South--niggers. And then they gets to telling us about this here Bishop -Warren I has mentioned. - -He was a nigger bishop, Bishop Warren was, and had a good deal of white -blood into him, they say. An ashy-coloured nigger, with bumps on his -face, fat as a possum, and as cunning as a fox. He had plenty of brains -into his head, too; but his brains had turned sour in his head the last -few years, and the bishop had crazy streaks running through his sense -now, like fat and lean mixed in a slab of bacon. He used to be friends -with a lot of big white folks, and the whites depended on him at one -time to preach orderliness and obedience and agriculture and being -in their place to the niggers. Fur years they thought he preached -that-a-way. He always _did_ preach that-a-way when any whites was around, -and he set on platforms sometimes with white preachers, and he got good -donations fur schemes of different kinds. But gradual the suspicion got -around that when he was alone with a lot of niggers his nigger blood -would get the best of him, and what he preached wasn't white supremacy -at all, but hopefulness of being equal. - -So the whites had fell away from him, and then his graft was gone, -and then his brains turned sour in his head and got to working and -fermenting in it like cider getting hard, and he made a few bad breaks -by not being careful what he said before white people. But the niggers -liked him all the better fur that. - -They always had been more or less hell in the bishop's heart. He had -brains and he knowed it, and the white folks had let him see _they_ knowed -it, too. And he was part white, and his white forefathers had been big -men in their day, and yet, in spite of all of that, he had to herd with -niggers and to pertend he liked it. He was both white and black in his -feelings about things, so some of his feelings counterdicted others, and -one of these here race riots went on all the time in his own insides. -But gradual he got to the place where they was spells he hated both -whites and niggers, but he hated the whites the worst. And now, in the -last two or three years, since his crazy streaks had growed as big -as his sensible streaks, or bigger, they was no telling what he would -preach to them niggers. But whatever he preached most of them would -believe. It might be something crazy and harmless, or it might be crazy -and harmful. - -He had been holding some revival meetings in nigger churches right there -in that very county, and was at it not fur away from there right then. -The idea had got around he was preaching some most unusual foolishness -to the blacks. Fur the niggers was all acting like they knowed something -too good to mention to the white folks, all about there. But some white -men had gone to one of the meetings, and the bishop had preached one of -his old-time sermons whilst they was there, telling the niggers to be -orderly and agriculturous--he was considerable of a fox yet. But he -and the rest of the niggers was so _derned_ anxious to be thought -agriculturous and servitudinous that the whites smelt a rat, and wished -he would go, fur they didn't want to chase him without they had to. - -Jest when we was getting along fine one of them prominent citizens asts -the doctor was we there figgering on buying some land? - -“No,” says the doctor, “we wasn't.” - -They was silence fur quite a little spell. Each prominent citizen had -mebby had his hopes of unloading some. They all looks a little sad, and -then another prominent citizen asts us into the back room agin. - -When we returns to the front room another prominent citizen makes -a little speech that was quite beautiful to hear, and says mebby we -represents some new concern that ain't never been in them parts and is -figgering on buying cotton. - -“No,” the doctor says, “we ain't cotton buyers.” - -Another prominent citizen has the idea mebby we is figgering on one of -these here inter-Reuben trolley lines, so the Rubes in one village can -ride over and visit the Rubes in the next. And another one thinks mebby -we is figgering on a telephone line. And each one makes a very eloquent -little speech about them things, and rings in something about our fair -Southland. And when both of them misses their guess it is time fur -another visit to the back room. - -Was we selling something? - -We was. - -Was we selling fruit trees? - -We wasn't. - -Finally, after every one has a chew of natcheral leaf tobaccer all -around, one prominent citizen makes so bold as to ast us very courteous -if he might enquire what it was we was selling. - -The doctor says medicine. - -Then they was a slow grin went around that there crowd of prominent -citizens. And once agin we has to make a trip to that back room. Fur -they are all sure we must be taking orders fur something to beat that -there prohibition game. When they misses that guess they all gets kind -of thoughtful and sad. A couple of 'em don't take no more interest in -us, but goes along home sighing-like, as if it wasn't no difference _what_ -we sold as long as it wasn't what they was looking fur. - -But purty soon one of them asts: - -“What _kind_ of medicine?” - -The doctor, he tells about it. - -When he finishes you never seen such a change as had come onto the faces -of that bunch. I never seen such disgusted prominent citizens in my hull -life. They looked at each other embarrassed, like they had been ketched -at something ornery. And they went out one at a time, saying good night -to the hotel-keeper and in the most pinted way taking no notice of us at -all. It certainly was a chill. We sees something is wrong, and we begins -to have a notion of what it is. - -The hotel-keeper, he spits out his chew, and goes behind his little -counter and takes a five-cent cigar out of his little show case and -bites the end off careful. Then he leans his elbows onto his counter and -reads our names to himself out of the register book, and looks at us, -and from us to the names, and from the names to us, like he is trying to -figger out how he come to let us write 'em there. Then he wants to know -where we come from before we come to Atlanta, where we had registered -from. We tells him we is from the North. He lights his cigar like he -didn't think much of that cigar and sticks it in his mouth and looks at -us so long in an absent-minded kind of way it goes out. - -Then he says we orter go back North. - -“Why?” asts the doctor. - -He chewed his cigar purty nigh up to the middle of it before he -answered, and when he spoke it was a soft kind of a drawl--not mad or -loud--but like they was sorrowful thoughts working in him. - -“Yo' all done struck the wo'st paht o' the South to peddle yo' niggah -medicine in, sah. I reckon yo' must love 'em a heap to be that concerned -over the colour of their skins.” - -And he turned his back on us and went into the back room all by himself. - -We seen we was in wrong in that town. The doctor says it will be no use -trying to interduce our stuff there, and we might as well leave there -in the morning and go over to Bairdstown, which was a little place about -ten miles off the railroad, and make our start there. - -So we got a rig the next morning and drove acrost the country. No one -bid us good-bye, neither, and Doctor Kirby says it's a wonder they -rented us the rig. - -But before we started that morning we noticed a funny thing. We hadn't -so much as spoke to any nigger, except our own nigger Sam, and he -couldn't of told _all_ the niggers in that town about the stuff to turn -niggers white, even if he had set up all night to do it. But every last -nigger we saw looked like he knowed something about us. Even after we -left town our nigger driver hailed two or three niggers in the road that -acted that-away. It seemed like they was all awful polite to us. And -yet they was different in their politeness than they was to them Georgia -folks, which is their natcheral-born bosses--acted more familiar, -somehow, as if they knowed we must be thinking about the same thing they -was thinking about. - -About half-way to Bairdstown we stopped at a place to get a drink of -water. Seemingly the white folks was away fur the day, and an old nigger -come up and talked to our driver while Sam and us was at the well. - -I seen them cutting their eyes at us, whilst they was unchecking the -hosses to let them drink too, and then I hearn the one that belonged -there say: - -“Is yo' _suah_ dat hit air dem?” - -“_Suah!_” says the driver. - -“How-come yo' so all-powerful _suah_ about hit?” - -The driver pertended the harness needed some fixing, and they went -around to the other side of the team and tinkered with one of the -traces, a-talking to each other. I hearn the old nigger say, kind of -wonderized: - -“Is dey a-gwine dar _now_?” - -Sam, he was pulling a bucket of water up out of the well fur us with a -windlass. The doctor says to him: - -“Sam, what does all this mean?” - -Sam, he pertends he don't know what the doctor is talking about. -But Doctor Kirby he finally pins him down. Sam hemmed and hawed -considerable, making up his mind whether he better lie to us or not. -Then, all of a sudden, he busted out into an awful fit of laughing, and -like to of fell in the well. Seemingly he decided fur to tell us the -truth. - -From what Sam says that there bishop has been holding revival meetings -in Big Bethel, which is a nigger church right on the edge of Bairdstown, -and niggers fur miles around has been coming night after night, and some -of them whooping her up daytimes too. And the bishop has worked himself -up the last three or four nights to where he has been perdicting and -prophesying, fur the spirit has hit the meeting hard. - -What he has been prophesying, Sam says, is the coming of a Messiah fur -the nigger race--a new Elishyah, he says, as will lead them from out'n -their inequality and bring 'em up to white standards right on the spot. -The whites has had their Messiah, the bishop says, but the niggers ain't -never had none of their _special own_ yet. And they needs one bad, and one -is sure a-coming. - -It seems the whites don't know yet jest what the bishop's been -a-preaching. But every nigger fur miles on every side of Big Bethel is -a-listening and a-looking fur signs and omens, and has been fur two, -three days now. This here half-crazy bishop has got 'em worked up to -where they is ready to believe anything, or do anything. - -So the night before when the word got out in Cottonville that we had -some scheme to make the niggers white, the niggers there took up with -the idea that the doctor was mebby the feller the bishop had been -prophesying about, and for a sign and a omen and a miracle of his grace -and powers was going out to Big Bethel to turn 'em white. Poor devils, -they didn't see but what being turned white orter be a part of what they -was to get from the coming of that there Messiah. - -News spreads among niggers quicker than among whites. No one knows how -they do it. But I've hearn tales about how when war times was there, -they would frequent have the news of a big fight before the white folks' -papers would. Soldiers has told me that in them there Philippine Islands -we conquered from Spain, where they is so much nigger blood mixed up -with other kinds in the islanders, this mysterious spreading around of -news is jest the same. And jest since nine o'clock the night before, the -news had spread fur miles around that Bishop Warren's Messiah was on his -way, and was going fur to turn the bishop white to show his power and -grace, and he had with him one he had turned part white, and that was -Sam, and one he had turned clear white, and that was me. And they was to -be signs and wonders to behold at Big Bethel, with pillars of cloud and -sounds of trumpets and fire squirting down from heaven, like it always -use to be in them old Bible days, and them there niggers to be led -singing and shouting and rejoicing into a land of milk and honey, -forevermore, _Amen!_ - -That's what Sam says they are looking fur, dozens and scores and -hundreds of them niggers round about. Sam, he had lived in town five -or six years, and he looked down on all these here ignoramus country -niggers. So he busts out laughing at first, and he pertends like he -don't take no stock in any of it. Besides, he knowed well enough he -wasn't spotted up by no Messiah, but it was the dope in the bottles done -it. But as he told about them goings-on Sam got more and more interested -and warmed up to it, and his voice went into a kind of a sing-song like -he was prophesying himself. And the other two niggers quit pertending to -fool around the team and edged a little closeter, and a little closeter -yet, with their mouths open and their heads a-nodding and the whites of -their eyes a-rolling. - -Fur my part, I never hearn such a lot of dern foolishness in all my -life. But the doctor, he says nothing at all. He listens to Sam ranting -and rolling out big words and raving, and only frowns. He climbs back -into the buggy agin silent, and all the rest of the way to Bairdstown -he set there with that scowl on his face. I guesses he was thinking now, -the way things had shaped up, he wouldn't sell none of his stuff at all -without he fell right in with the reception chance had planned fur him. -But if he did fall in with it, and pertend like he was a Messiah to -them niggers, he could get all they had. He was mebby thinking how much -ornerier that would make the hull scheme. - - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -We got to Bairdstown early enough, but we didn't go to work there. We -wasted all that day. They was something working in the doctor's head he -wasn't talking about. I supposed he was getting cold feet on the hull -proposition. Anyhow, he jest set around the little tavern in that place -and done nothing all afternoon. - -The weather was fine, and we set out in front. We hadn't set there -more'n an hour till I could tell we was being noticed by the blacks, -not out open and above board. But every now and then one or two or three -would pass along down the street, and lazy about and take a look at -us. They pertended they wasn't noticing, but they was. The word had got -around, and they was a feeling in the air I didn't like at all. Too much -caged-up excitement among the niggers. The doctor felt it too, I could -see that. But neither one of us said anything about it to the other. - -Along toward dusk we takes a walk. They was a good-sized crick at the -edge of that little place, and on it an old-fashioned worter mill. Above -the mill a little piece was a bridge. We crossed it and walked along a -road that follered the crick bank closte fur quite a spell. - -It wasn't much of a town--something betwixt a village and a -settlement--although they was going to run a branch of the railroad over -to it before very long. It had had a chancet to get a railroad once, -years before that. But it had said then it didn't want no railroad. So -until lately every branch built through that part of the country grinned -very sarcastic and give it the go-by. - -They was considerable woods standing along the crick, and around a turn -in the road we come onto Sam, all of a sudden, talking with another -nigger. Sam was jest a-laying it off to that nigger, but he kind of -hushed as we come nearer. Down the road quite a little piece was a -good-sized wooden building that never had been painted and looked like -it was a big barn. Without knowing it the doctor and me had been pinting -ourselves right toward Big Bethel. - -The nigger with Sam he yells out, when he sees us: - -“Glory be! _Hyah_ dey comes! Hyah dey comes _now!_” - -[Illustration: 0265] - -And he throwed up his arms, and started on a lope up the road toward the -church, singing out every ten or fifteen yards. A little knot of niggers -come out in front of the church when they hearn him coming. - -Sam, he stood his ground, and waited fur us to come up to him, kind of -apologetic and sneaking--looking about something or other. - -“What kind of lies have you been telling these niggers, Sam?” says the -doctor, very sharp and short and mad-like. - -Sam, he digs a stone out'n the road with the toe of his shoe, and kind -of grins to himself, still looking sheepish. But he says he opinionates -he been telling them nothing at all. - -“I dunno how-come dey get all dem nigger notions in dey fool haid,” Sam -says, “but dey all waitin' dar inside de chu'ch do'--some of de mos' -faiful an' de mos' pra'rful ones o' de Big Bethel cong'gation been dar -fo' de las' houah a-waitin' an' a-watchin', spite o' de fac' dat reg'lah -meetin' ain't gwine ter be called twell arter supper. De bishop, he dar -too. Dey got some dese hyah coal-ile lamps dar des inside de chu'ch do' -an' dey been keepin' on 'em lighted, daytimes an' night times, fo' two -days now, kaze dey say dey ain't gwine fo' ter be cotched napping when -de bridegroom _com_eth. Yass, _sah!_--dey's ten o' dese hyah vergims dar, -five of 'em sleepin' an' five of 'em watchin', an' a-takin' tuhns at -hit, an' mebby dat how-come free or fouah dey bes' young colo'hed mens -been projickin' aroun' dar all arternoon, a-helpin' dem dat's a-waitin' -twell de bridegroom _com_eth!” - -We seen a little knot of them, down the road there in front of the -church, gathering around the nigger that had been with Sam. They all -starts toward us. But one man steps out in front of them all, and turns -toward them and holds his hands up, and waves them back. They all stops -in their tracks. - -Then he turns his face toward us, and comes slow and sollum down the -road in our direction, walking with a cane, and moving very dignified. -He was a couple of hundred yards away. - -But as he come closeter we gradually seen him plainer and plainer. He -was a big man, and stout, and dressed very neat in the same kind of rig -as white bishops wear, with one of these white collars that buttons in -the back. I suppose he was coming on to meet us alone, because no one -was fitten fur to give us the first welcome but himself. - -Well, it was all dern foolishness, and it was hard to believe it could -all happen, and they ain't so many places in this here country it _could_ -happen. But fur all of it being foolishness, when he come down the road -toward us so dignified and sollum and slow I ketched myself fur a minute -feeling like we really had been elected to something and was going to -take office soon. And Sam, as the bishop come closeter and closeter, got -to jerking and twitching with the excitement that he had been keeping -in--and yet all the time Sam knowed it was dope and works and not faith -that had made him spotted that-a-way. - -He stops, the bishop does, about ten yards from us and looks us over. - -“Ah yo' de gennleman known ter dis hyah sinful genehation by de style -an' de entitlemint o' Docto' Hahtley Kirby?” he asts the doctor very -ceremonious and grand. - -The doctor give him a look that wasn't very encouraging, but he nodded -to him. - -“Will yo' dismiss yo' sehvant in ordeh dat we kin hol' convehse an' -communion in de midst er privacy?” - -The doctor, he nods to Sam, and Sam moseys along toward the church. - -“Now, then,” says the doctor, sudden and sharp, “take off your hat and -tell me what you want.” - -The bishop's hand goes up to his head with a jerk before he thought. -Then it stops there, while him and the doctor looks at each other. The -bishop's mouth opens like he was wondering, but he slowly pulls his -hat off and stands there bare-headed in the road. But he wasn't really -humble, that bishop. - -“Now,” says the doctor, “tell me in as straight talk as you've got what -all this damned foolishness among you niggers means.” - -A queer kind of look passed over the bishop's face. He hadn't expected -to be met jest that way, mebby. Whether he himself had really believed -in the coming of that there new Messiah he had been perdicting, I never -could settle in my mind. Mebby he had been getting ready to pass _Himself_ -off fur one before we come along and the niggers all got the fool idea -Doctor Kirby was it. Before the bishop spoke agin you could see his -craziness and his cunningness both working in his face. But when he did -speak he didn't quit being ceremonious nor dignified. - -“De wohd has gone fo'th among de faiful an' de puah in heaht,” he says, -“dat er man has come accredited wi' signs an' wi' mahvels an' de poweh -o' de sperrit fo' to lay his han' on de sons o' Ham an' ter make 'em des -de same in colluh as de yuther sons of ea'th.” - -“Then that word is a lie,” says the doctor. “I _did_ come here to try out -some stuff to change the colour of negro skins. That's all. And I find -your idiotic followers are all stirred up and waiting for some kind of a -miracle monger. What you have been preaching to them, you know best. Is -that all you want to know?” - -The bishop hems and haws and fiddles with his stick, and then he says: - -“Suh, will dish yeah prepa'shun _sho'ly_ do de wohk?” Doctor Kirby tells -him it will do the work all right. - -And then the bishop, after beating around the bush some more, comes out -with his idea. Whether he expected there would be any Messiah come or -not, of course he knowed the doctor wasn't him. But he is willing to -boost the doctor's game as long as it boosts _his_ game. He wants to be in -on the deal. He wants part of the graft. He wants to get together with -the doctor on a plan before the doctor sees the niggers. And if the -doctor don't want to keep on with the miracle end of it, the bishop -shows him how he could do him good with no miracle attachment. Fur he -has an awful holt on them niggers, and his say-so will sell thousands -and thousands of bottles. What he is looking fur jest now is his little -take-out. - -That was his craftiness and his cunningness working in him. But all of -a sudden one of his crazy streaks come bulging to the surface. It come -with a wild, eager look in his eyes. - -“Suh,” he cries out, all of a sudden, “ef yo' kin make me white, fo' -Gawd sakes, do hit! Do hit! Ef yo' does, I gwine ter bless yo' all yo' -days! - -“Yo' don' know--no one kin guess or comperhen'--what des bein' white -would mean ter me! Lawd! Lawd!” he says, his voice soft-spoken, but more -eager than ever as he went on, and pleading something pitiful to hear, -“des think of all de Caucasian blood in me! Gawd knows de nights er my -youth I'se laid awake twell de dawn come red in de Eas' a-cryin' out ter -Him only fo' ter be white! _Des ter be white_! Don' min' dem black, black -niggers dar--don' think er _dem_--dey ain't wuth nothin' nor fitten fo' -no fate but what dey got--But me! What's done kep' me from gwine ter de -top but dat one thing: _I wasn't white!_ Hit air too late now--too late -fo' dem ambitions I done trifle with an' shove behin' me--hit's too late -fo' dat! But ef I was des ter git one li'l year o' hit--_one li'l year o' -bein' white!_--befo' I died--” - -And he went on like that, shaking and stuttering there in the road, like -a fit had struck him, crazy as a loon. But he got hold of himself enough -to quit talking, in a minute, and his cunning come back to him before -he was through trembling. Then the doctor says slow and even, but not -severe: - -“You go back to your people now, bishop, and tell them they've made a -mistake about me. And if you can, undo the harm you've done with this -Messiah business. As far as this stuff of mine is concerned, there's -none of it for you nor for any other negro. You tell them that. There's -none of it been sold yet--and there never will be.” - -Then we turned away and left him standing there in the road, still with -his hat off and his face working. - -Walking back toward the little tavern the doctor says: - -“Danny, this is the end of this game. These people down here and that -half-cracked, half-crooked old bishop have made me see a few things about -the Afro-American brother. It wasn't a good scheme in the first place. -And this wasn't the place to start it going, anyhow--I should have tried -the niggers in the big towns. But I'm out of it now, and I'm glad of -it. What we want to do is to get away from here to-morrow--go back to -Atlanta and fix up a scheme to rob some widows and orphans, or something -half-way respectable like that.” - -Well, I drew a long breath. I was with Doctor Kirby in everything he -done, fur he was my friend, and I didn't intend to quit him. But I was -glad we was out of this, and hadn't sold none of that dope. We both -felt better because we hadn't. All them millions we was going to -make--shucks! We didn't neither one of us give a dern about them getting -away from us. All we wanted was jest to get away from there and not get -mixed up with no nigger problems any more. We eat supper, and we set -around a while, and we went to bed purty middling early, so as to get a -good start in the morning. - -We got up early, but early as it was the devil had been up earlier in -that neighbourhood. About four o'clock that morning a white woman about -a half a mile from the village had been attacked by a nigger. They was -doubt as to whether she would live, but if she lived they wasn't no -doubts she would always be more or less crazy. Fur besides everything -else, he had beat her insensible. And he had choked her nearly to death. -The country-side was up, with guns and pistols looking fur that nigger. -It wasn't no trouble guessing what would happen to him when they ketched -him, neither. - -“And,” says Doctor Kirby, when we hearn of it, “I hope to high heaven -they _do_ catch him!” - -They wasn't much doubt they would, either. They was already beating up -the woods and bushes and gangs was riding up and down the roads, and -every nigger's house fur miles around was being searched and watched. - -We soon seen we would have trouble getting hosses and a rig in the -village to take us to the railroad. Many of the hosses was being ridden -in the man-hunt. And most of the men who might have done the driving was -busy at that too. The hotel-keeper himself had left his place standing -wide open and went out. We didn't get any breakfast neither. - -“Danny,” says the doctor, “we'll just put enough money to pay the bill -in an envelope on the register here, and strike out on shank's ponies. -It's only nine or ten miles to the railroad--we'll walk.” - -“But how about our stuff?” I asts him. We had two big cases full of -sample bottles of that dope, besides our suit cases. - -“Hang the dope!” says the doctor, “I don't ever want to see it or hear -of it again! We'll leave it here. Put the things out of your suit case -into mine, and leave that here too. Sam can carry mine. I want to be on -the move.” - -So we left, with Sam carrying the one suit case. It wasn't nine in the -morning yet, and we was starting out purty empty fur a long walk. - -“Sam,” says the doctor, as we was passing that there Big Bethel -church--and it showed up there silent and shabby in the morning, like a -old coloured man that knows a heap more'n he's going to tell--“Sam, were -you at the meeting here last night?” - -“Yass, suh!” - -“I suppose it was a pretty tame affair after they found out their Elisha -wasn't coming after all?” - -Sam, he walled his eyes, and then he kind of chuckled. - -“Well, suh,” he says, “I 'spicions de mos' on 'em don' know dat _yit!_” - -The doctor asts him what he means. - -It seems the bishop must of done some thinking after we left him in the -road or on his way back to that church. They had all begun to believe -that there Elishyah was on the way to 'em, and the bishop's credit was -more or less wrapped up with our being it. It was true he hadn't started -that belief; but it was believed, and he didn't dare to stop it now. -Fur, if he stopped it, they would all think he had fell down on his -prophetics, even although he hadn't prophesied jest exactly us. He was -in a tight place, that bishop, but I bet you could always depend on him -to get out of it with his flock. So what he told them niggers at the -meeting last night was that he brung 'em a message from Elishyah, Sam -says, the Elishyah that was to come. And the message was that the time -was not ripe fur him to reveal himself as Elishyah unto the eyes of all -men, fur they had been too much sinfulness and wickedness and walking -into the ways of evil, right amongst that very congregation, and -disobedience of the bishop, which was their guide. And he had sent 'em -word, Elishyah had, that the bishop was his trusted servant, and into -the keeping of the bishop was give the power to deal with his people and -prepare them fur the great day to come. And the bishop would give the -word of his coming. He was a box, that bishop was, in spite of his crazy -streaks; and he had found a way to make himself stronger than ever with -his bunch out of the very kind of thing that would have spoiled most -people's graft. They had had a big meeting till nearly morning, and the -power had hit 'em strong. Sam told us all about it. - -But the thing that seemed to interest the doctor, and made him frown, -was the idea that all them niggers round about there still had the idea -he was the feller that had been prophesied to come. All except Sam, -mebby. Sam had spells when he was real sensible, and other spells when -he was as bad as the believingest of them all. - -It was a fine day, and really joyous to be a-walking. It would of been -a good deal joyouser if we had had some breakfast, but we figgered we -would stop somewheres at noon and lay in a good, square, country meal. - -That wasn't such a very thick settled country. But everybody seemed to -know about the manhunt that was going on, here, there, and everywhere. -People would come down to the road side as we passed, and gaze after us. -Or mebby ast us if we knowed whether he had been ketched yet. Women and -kids mostly, or old men, but now and then a younger man too. We noticed -they wasn't no niggers to speak of that wasn't busier'n all get out, -working at something or other, that day. - -They is considerable woods in that country yet, though lots has been -cut off. But they was sometimes right long stretches where they would -be woods on both sides of the road, more or less thick, with underbrush -between the trees. We tramped along, each busy thinking his own -thoughts, and having a purty good time jest doing that without there -being no use of talking. I was thinking that I liked the doctor better -fur turning his back on all this game, jest when he might of made some -sort of a deal with the bishop and really made some money out of it -in the end. He never was so good a business man as he thought he was, -Doctor Kirby wasn't. He always could make himself think he was. But when -it come right down to brass tacks he wasn't. You give him a scheme that -would _talk_ well, the kind of a josh talk he liked to get off fur his own -enjoyment, and he would take up with it every time instead of one that -had more promise of money to it if it was worked harder. He was thinking -of the _talk_ more'n he was of the money, mostly; and he was always saying -something about art fur art's sake, which was plumb foolishness, fur he -never painted no pictures. Well, he never got over being more or less of -a puzzle to me. But fur some reason or other this morning he seemed to -be in a better humour with himself, after we had walked a while, than I -had seen him in fur a long time. - -We come to the top of one long hill, which it had made us sweat to -climb, and without saying nothing to each other we both stopped and took -off our hats and wiped our foreheads, and drawed long breaths, content -to stand there fur jest a minute or two and look around us. The road run -straight ahead, and dipped down, and then clumb up another hill about an -eighth of a mile in front of us. It made a little valley. Jest about -the middle, between the two hills, a crick meandered through the bottom -land. Woods growed along the crick, and along both sides of the road we -was travelling. Right nigh the crick they was another road come out -of the woods to the left-hand side, and switched into the road we was -travelling, and used the same bridge to cross the crick by. They was -three or four houses here and there, with chimbleys built up on the -outside of them, and blue smoke coming out. We stood and looked at the -sight before us and forgot all the troubles we had left behind, fur a -couple of minutes--it all looked so peaceful and quiet and homeyfied and -nice. - -“Well,” says the doctor, after we had stood there a piece, “I guess we -better be moving on again, Danny.” - -But jest as Sam, who was follering along behind with that suit case, -picks it up and puts it on his head agin, they come a sound, from away -off in the distance somewheres, that made him set it down quick. And we -all stops in our tracks and looks at each other. - -It was the voice of a hound dog--not so awful loud, but clear and mellow -and tuneful, and carried to us on the wind. And then in a minute it come -agin, sharper and quicker. They yells like that when they have struck a -scent. - -As we stood and looked at each other they come a crackle in the -underbrush, jest to the left of us. We turned our heads that-a-way, jest -as a nigger man give a leap to the top of a rail fence that separated -the road from the woods. He was going so fast that instead of climbing -that fence and balancing on the top and jumping off he jest simply -seemed to hit the top rail and bounce on over, like he had been throwed -out of the heart of the woods, and he fell sprawling over and over in -the road, right before our feet. - -He was onto his feet in a second, and fur a minute he stood up straight -and looked at us--an ashes-coloured nigger, ragged and bleeding from the -underbrush, red-eyed, and with slavers trickling from his red lips, and -sobbing and gasping and panting fur breath. Under his brown skin, where -his shirt was torn open acrost his chest, you could see that nigger's -heart a-beating. - -But as he looked at us they come a sudden change acrost his face--he -must of seen the doctor before, and with a sob he throwed himself on his -knees in the road and clasped his hands and held 'em out toward Doctor -Kirby. - -“_Elishyah_! _Elishyah_!” he sings out, rocking of his body in a kind -of tune, “reveal yo'se'f, reveal yo'se'f an' he'p me _now!_ Lawd Gawd -_Elishyah_, beckon fo' a _Cha_'iot, yo' cha'iot of _fiah!_ Lif' me, lif' -me--lif' me away f'um hyah in er cha'iot o' _fiah!_” - -The doctor, he turned his head away, and I knowed the thought working -in him was the thought of that white woman that would always be an -idiot for life, if she lived. But his lips was dumb, and his one hand -stretched itself out toward that nigger in the road and made a wiping -motion, like he was trying fur to wipe the picture of him, and the -thought of him, off'n a slate forevermore. - -Jest then, nearer and louder and sharper, and with an eager sound, like -they knowed they almost had him now, them hounds' voices come ringing -through the woods, and with them come the mixedup shouts of men. - -“_Run!_” yells Sam, waving of that suit case round his head, fur one -nigger will always try to help another no matter what he's done. “Run -fo' de branch--git yo' foots in de worter an' fling 'em off de scent!” - -He bounded down the hill, that red-eyed nigger, and left us standing -there. But before he reached the crick the whole man-hunt come busting -through the woods, the dogs a-straining at their straps. The men was all -on foot, with guns and pistols in their hands. They seen the nigger, -and they all let out a yell, and was after him. They ketched him at the -crick, and took him off along that road that turned off to the left. -I hearn later he was a member of Bishop Warren's congregation, so they -hung him right in front of Big Bethel church. - -We stood there on top of the hill and saw the chase and capture. Doctor -Kirby's face was sweating worse than when we first clumb the hill. -He was thinking about that nigger that had pleaded with him. He was -thinking also of the woman. He was glad it hadn't been up to him -personal right then and there to butt in and stop a lynching. He was -glad, fur with them two pictures in front of him he didn't know what he -would of done. - -“Thank heaven!” I hearn him say to himself. “Thank heaven that it wasn't -_really_ in my power to choose!” - - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -Well, we had pork and greens fur dinner that day, with the best -corn-bread I ever eat anywheres, and buttermilk, and sweet potato pie. -We got 'em at the house of a feller named Withers--Old Daddy Withers. -Which if they was ever a nicer old man than him, or a nicer old woman -than his wife, I never run acrost 'em yet. - -They lived all alone, them Witherses, with only a couple of niggers to -help them run their farm. After we eats our dinner and Sam gets his'n -out to the kitchen, we sets out in front of the house and gets to -talking with them, and gets real well acquainted. Which we soon found -out the secret of old Daddy Withers's life--that there innocent-looking -old jigger was a poet. He was kind of proud of it and kind of shamed of -it both to oncet. The way it come out was when the doctor says one -of them quotations he is always getting off, and the old man he looks -pleased and says the rest of the piece it dropped out of straight -through. - -Then they had a great time quoting it at each other, them two, and I -seen the doctor is good to loaf around there the rest of the day, like -as not. Purty soon the old lady begins to get mighty proud-looking over -something or other, and she leans over and whispers to the old man: - -“Shall I bring it out, Lemuel?” - -The old man, he shakes his head, no. But she slips into the house -anyhow, and fetches out a little book with a pale green cover to it, and -hands it to the doctor. - -“Bless my soul,” says Doctor Kirby, looking at the old man, “you don't -mean to say you write verse yourself?” - -The old man, he gets red all over his face, and up into the roots of -his white hair, and down into his white beard, and makes believe he is a -little mad at the old lady fur showing him off that-a-way. - -“Mother,” he says, “yo' shouldn't have done that!” They had had a boy -years before, and he had died, but he always called her mother the same -as if the boy was living. He goes into the house and gets his pipe, -and brings it out and lights it, acting like that book of poetry was -a mighty small matter to him. But he looks at Doctor Kirby out of -the corner of his eyes, and can't keep from getting sort of eager and -trembly with his pipe; and I could see he was really anxious over what -the doctor was thinking of them poems he wrote. The doctor reads some of -'em out loud. - -Well, it was kind of home-made poetry, Old Daddy Withers's was. It -wasn't like no other poetry I ever struck. And I could tell the doctor -was thinking the same about it. It sounded somehow like it hadn't been -jointed together right. You would keep listening fur it to rhyme, and -get all worked up watching and waiting fur it to, and make bets with -yourself whether it would rhyme or it wouldn't. And then it ginerally -wouldn't. I never hearn such poetry to get a person's expectances all -worked up, and then go back on 'em. But if you could of told what it was -all about, you wouldn't of minded that so much. Not that you can tell -what most poetry is about, but you don't care so long as it keeps -hopping along lively. What you want in poetry to make her sound good, -according to my way of thinking, is to make her jump lively, and -then stop with a bang on the rhymes. But Daddy Withers was so -independent-like he would jest natcherally try to force two words to -rhyme whether the Lord made 'em fur mates or not--like as if you would -try to make a couple of kids kiss and make up by bumping their heads -together. They jest simply won't do it. But Doctor Kirby, he let on like -he thought it was fine poetry, and he read them pieces over and over -agin, out loud, and the old man and the old woman was both mighty -tickled with the way he done it. He wouldn't of had 'em know fur -anything he didn't believe it was the finest poetry ever wrote, Doctor -Kirby wouldn't. - -They was four little books of it altogether. Slim books that looked as -if they hadn't had enough to eat, like a stray cat whose ribs is rubbing -together. It had cost Daddy Withers five hundred dollars apiece to get -'em published. A feller in Boston charged him that much, he said. It -seems he would go along fur years, raking and scraping of his money -together, so as to get enough ahead to get out another book. Each time -he had his hopes the big newspapers would mebby pay some attention to -it, and he would get recognized. - -“But they never did,” said the old man, kind of sad, “it always fell -flat.” - -“Why, _father!_”--the old lady begins, and finishes by running back into -the house agin. She is out in a minute with a clipping from a newspaper -and hands it over to Doctor Kirby, as proud as a kid with copper-toed -boots. The doctor reads it all the way through, and then he hands it -back without saying a word. The old lady goes away to fiddle around -about the housework purty soon and the old man looks at the doctor and -says: - -“Well, you see, don't you?” - -“Yes,” says the doctor, very gentle. - -“I wouldn't have _her_ know for the world,” says Daddy Withers. “_I_ -know and _you_ know that newspaper piece is just simply poking fun at my -poetry, and making a fool of me, the whole way through. As soon as I -read it over careful I saw it wasn't really praise, though there was a -minute or two I thought my recognition had come. But _she_ don't know it -ain't serious from start to finish. _She_ was all-mighty pleased when that -piece come out in print. And I don't intend she ever shall know it ain't -real praise.” - -His wife was so proud when that piece come out in that New York paper, -he said, she cried over it. She said now she was glad they had been -doing without things fur years and years so they could get them little -books printed, one after the other, fur now fame was coming. But -sometimes, Daddy Withers says, he suspicions she really knows he has -been made a fool of, and is pertending not to see it, fur his sake, the -same as he is pertending fur _her_ sake. Well, they was a mighty nice -old couple, and the doctor done a heap of pertending fur both their -sakes--they wasn't nothing else to do. - -“How'd you come to get started at it?” he asts. - -Daddy Withers says he don't rightly know. Mebby, he says, it was living -there all his life and watching things growing--watching the cotton -grow, and the corn and getting acquainted with birds and animals and -trees and things. Helping of things to grow, he says, is a good way to -understand how God must feel about humans. For what you plant and help -to grow, he says, you are sure to get to caring a heap about. You can't -help it. And that is the reason, he says, God can be depended on to pull -the human race through in the end, even if appearances do look to be -agin His doing it sometimes, fur He started it to growing in the first -place and that-a-way He got interested personal in it. And that is the -main idea, he says, he has all the time been trying to get into that -there poetry of his'n. But he reckons he ain't got her in. Leastways, -he says, no one has never seen her there but the doctor and the old lady -and himself. Well, for my part, I never would of seen it there myself, -but when he said it out plain like that any one could of told what he -meant. - -You hadn't orter lay things up agin folks if the folks can't help 'em. -And I will say Daddy Withers was a fine old boy in spite of his poetry. -Which it never really done any harm, except being expensive to him, and -lots will drink that much up and never figger it an expense, but one -of the necessities of life. We went all over his place with him, and we -noticed around his house a lot of tin cans tacked up to posts and trees. -They was fur the birds to drink out of, and all the birds around there -had found out about it, and about Daddy Withers, and wasn't scared of -him at all. He could get acquainted with animals, too, so that after a -long spell sometimes they would even let him handle them. But not if any -one was around. They was a crow he had made a pet of, used to hop around -in front of him, and try fur to talk to him. If he went to sleep in the -front yard whilst he was reading, that crow had a favourite trick of -stealing his spectacles off'n his nose and flying up to the ridgepole -of the house, and cawing at him. Once he had been setting out a row of -tomato plants very careful, and he got to the end of the row and turned -around, and that there crow had been hopping along behind very sollum, -pulling up each plant as he set it out. It acted like it had done -something mighty smart, and knowed it, that crow. So after that the old -man named him Satan, fur he said it was Satan's trick to keep things -from growing. They was some blue and white pigeons wasn't scared to come -and set on his shoulders; but you could see the old man really liked -that crow Satan better'n any of them. - -Well, we hung around all afternoon listening to the old man talk, and -liking him better and better. First thing we knowed it was getting along -toward supper time. And nothing would do but we must stay to supper, -too. We was pinted toward a place on the railroad called Smithtown, but -when we found we couldn't get a train from there till ten o'clock that -night anyhow, and it was only three miles away, we said we'd stay. - -After supper we calculated we'd better move. But the old man wouldn't -hear of us walking that three miles. So about eight o'clock he hitched -up a mule to a one-hoss wagon, and we jogged along. - -They was a yaller moon sneaking up over the edge of the world when we -started. It was so low down in the sky yet that it threw long shadders -on the road, and they was thick and black ones, too. Because they was a -lot of trees alongside the road, and the road was narrow, we went ahead -mostly through the darkness, with here and there patches of moonlight -splashed onto the ground. Doctor Kirby and Old Man Withers was setting -on the seat, still gassing away about books and things, and I was -setting on the suit case in the wagon box right behind 'em. Sam, he was -sometimes in the back of the wagon. He had been more'n half asleep all -afternoon, but now it was night he was waked up, the way niggers and -cats will do, and every once in a while he would get out behind and cut -a few capers in a moonlight patch, jest fur the enjoyment of it, and -then run and ketch up with the wagon and crawl in agin, fur it was going -purty slow. - -The ground was sandy in spots, and I guess we made a purty good load fur -Beck, the old mule. She stopped, going up a little slope, after we had -went about a mile from the Witherses'. Sam says he'll get out and walk, -fur the wheels was in purty deep, and it was hard going. - -“Giddap, Beck!” says the old man. - -But Beck, she won't. She don't stand like she is stuck, neither, but -like she senses danger somewheres about. A hoss might go ahead into -danger, but a mule is more careful of itself and never goes butting in -unless it feels sure they is a way out. - -“Giddap,” says the old man agin. - -But jest then the shadders on both sides of the road comes to life. They -wakes up, and moves all about us. It was done so sudden and quiet it was -half a minute before I seen it wasn't shadders but about thirty men had -gathered all about us on every side. They had guns. - -“Who are you? What d'ye want?” asts the old man, startled, as three or -four took care of the mule's head very quick and quiet. - -“Don't be skeered, Daddy Withers,” says a drawly voice out of the dark; -“we ain't goin' to hurt _you_. We got a little matter o' business to tend -to with them two fellers yo' totin' to town.” - - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -THIRTY men with guns would be considerable of a proposition to buck -against, so we didn't try it. They took us out of the wagon, and they -pinted us down the road, steering us fur a country schoolhouse which -was, I judged from their talk, about a quarter of a mile away. They took -us silent, fur after we found they didn't answer no questions we quit -asking any. We jest walked along, and guessed what we was up against, -and why. Daddy Withers, he trailed along behind. They had tried to send -him along home, but he wouldn't go. So they let him foller and paid no -more heed to him. - -Sam, he kept a-talking and a-begging, and several men a-telling of him -to shut up. And him not a-doing it. Till finally one feller says very -disgusted-like: - -“Boys, I'm going to turn this nigger loose.” - -“We'll want his evidence,” says another one. - -“Evidence!” says the first one. “What's the evidence of a scared nigger -worth?” - -“I reckon that one this afternoon was considerable scared, when he give -us that evidence against himself--that is, if you call it evidence.” - -“A nigger can give evidence against a nigger, and it's all right,” says -another voice--which it come from a feller that had a-holt of my wrist -on the left-hand side of me--“but these are white men we are going to -try to-night. The case is too serious to take nigger evidence. Besides, -I reckon we got all the evidence any one could need. This nigger ain't -charged with any crime himself, and my idea is that he ain't to be -allowed to figure one way or the other in this thing.” - -So they turned Sam loose. I never seen nor hearn tell of Sam since then. -They fired a couple of guns into the air as he started down the road, -jest fur fun, and mebby he is running yet. - -The feller had been talking like he was a lawyer, so I asts him what -crime we was charged with. But he didn't answer me. And jest then we -gets in sight of that schoolhouse. - -It set on top of a little hill, partially in the moonlight, with a few -sad-looking pine trees scattered around it, and the fence in front -broke down. Even after night you could see it was a shabby-looking little -place. - -Old Daddy Withers tied his mule to the broken down fence. Somebody -busted the front door down. Somebody else lighted matches. The first -thing I knowed, we was all inside, and four or five dirty little coal -oil lamps, with tin reflectors to 'em, which I s'pose was used ordinary -fur school exhibitions, was being lighted. - -We was waltzed up onto the teacher's platform, Doctor Kirby and me, and -set down in chairs there, with two men to each of us, and then a tall, -rawboned feller stalks up to the teacher's desk, and raps on it with the -butt end of a pistol, and says: - -“Gentlemen, this meeting will come to order.” - -Which they was orderly enough before that, but they all took off their -hats when he rapped, like in a court room or a church, and most of 'em -set down. - -They set down in the school kids' seats, or on top of the desks, and -their legs stuck out into the aisles, and they looked uncomfortable and -awkward. But they looked earnest and they looked sollum, too, and they -wasn't no joking nor skylarking going on, nor no kind of rowdyness, -neither. These here men wasn't toughs, by any manner of means, but -the most part of 'em respectable farmers. They had a look of meaning -business. - -“Gentlemen,” says the feller who had rapped, “who will you have for your -chairman?” - -“I reckon you'll do, Will,” says another feller to the raw-boned man, -which seemed to satisfy him. But he made 'em vote on it before he took -office. - -“Now then,” says Will, “the accused must have counsel.” - -“Will,” says another feller, very hasty, “what's the use of all this -fuss an' feathers? You know as well as I do there's nothing legal about -this. It's only necessary. For my part--” - -“Buck Hightower,” says Will, pounding on the desk, “you will please come -to order.” Which Buck done it. - -“Now,” says the chairman, turning toward Doctor Kirby, who had been -setting there looking thoughtful from one man to another, like he was -sizing each one up, “now I must explain to the chief defendant that we -don't intend to lynch him.” - -He stopped a second on that word __lynch__ as if to let it soak in. The -doctor, he bowed toward him very cool and ceremonious, and says, mocking -of him: - -“You reassure me, Mister--Mister--What is your name?” He said it in a -way that would of made a saint mad. - -“My name ain't any difference,” says Will, trying not to show he was -nettled. - -“You are quite right,” says the doctor, looking Will up and down from -head to foot, very slow and insulting, “it's of no consequence in the -world.” - -Will, he flushed up, but he makes himself steady and cool, and he goes -on with his little speech: “There is to be no lynching here to-night. -There is to be a trial, and, if necessary, an execution.” - -“Would it be asking too much,” says the doctor very polite, “if I were -to inquire who is to be tried, and before what court, and upon what -charge?” - -There was a clearing of throats and a shuffling of feet fur a minute. -One old deaf feller, with a red nose, who had his hand behind his ear -and was leaning forward so as not to miss a breath of what any one said, -ast his neighbour in a loud whisper, “How?” Then an undersized little -feller, who wasn't a farmer by his clothes, got up and moved toward the -platform. He had a bulging-out forehead, and thin lips, and a quick, -nervous way about him: - -“You are to be tried,” he says to the doctor, speaking in a kind of -shrill sing-song that cut your nerves in that room full of bottled-up -excitement like a locust on a hot day. “You are to be tried before this -self-constituted court of Caucasian citizens--Anglo-Saxons, sir, every -man of them, whose forbears were at Runnymede! The charge against you -is stirring up the negroes of this community to the point of revolt. -You are accused, sir, of representing yourself to them as some kind of -a Moses. You are arraigned here for endangering the peace of the county -and the supremacy of the Caucasian race by inspiring in the negroes the -hope of equality.” - -Old Daddy Withers had been setting back by the door. I seen him get -up and slip out. It didn't look to me to be any place fur a gentle old -poet. While that little feller was making that charge you could feel the -air getting tingly, like it does before a rain storm. - -[Illustration: 0297] - -Some fellers started to clap their hands like at a political rally and -to say, “Go it, Billy!” “That's right, Harden!” Which I found out later -Billy Harden was in the state legislature, and quite a speaker, and -knowed it. Will, the chairman, he pounded down the applause, and then he -says to the doctor, pointing to Billy Harden: - -“No man shall say of us that we did not give you a fair trial and a -square deal. I'm goin' to appoint this gentleman as your counsel, and -I'm goin' to give you a reasonable time to talk with him in private and -prepare your case. He is the ablest lawyer in southwest Georgia and the -brightest son of Watson County.” - -The doctor looks kind of lazy and Bill Harden, and back agin at Will, -the chairman, and smiles out of the corner of his mouth. Then he says, -sort of taking in the rest of the crowd with his remark, like them two -standing there paying each other compliments wasn't nothing but a joke: - -“I hope neither of you will take it too much to heart if I'm not -impressed by your sense of justice--or your friend's ability.” - -“Then,” said Will, “I take it that you intend to act as your own -counsel?” - -“You may take it,” says the doctor, rousing of himself up, “you may take -it--from me--that I refuse to recognize you and your crowd as a court of -any kind; that I know nothing of the silly accusations against me; -that I find no reason at all why I should take the trouble of making a -defence before an armed mob that can only mean one of two things.” - -“One of two things?” says Will. - -“Yes,” says the doctor, very quiet, but raising his voice a little and -looking him hard in the eyes. “You and your gang can mean only one of -two things. Either a bad joke, or else--” - -And he stopped a second, leaning forward in his chair, with the look of -half raising out of it, so as to bring out the word very decided-- - -“_MURDER!_” - -The way he done it left that there word hanging in the room, so you -could almost see it and almost feel it there, like it was a thing that -had to be faced and looked at and took into account. They all felt it -that-a-way, too; fur they wasn't a sound fur a minute. Then Will says: - -“We don't plan murder, and you'll find this ain't a joke. And since you -refuse to accept counsel--” - -Jest then Buck Hightower interrupts him by yelling out, “I make a motion -Billy Harden be prosecuting attorney, then. Let's hurry this thing -along!” And several started to applaud, and call fur Billy Harden to -prosecute. But Will, he pounded down the applause agin, and says: - -“I was about to suggest that Mr. Harden might be prevailed upon to -accept that task.” - -“Yes,” says the doctor, very gentle and easy. “Quite so! I fancied -myself that Mr. Harden came along with the idea of making a speech -either for or against.” And he grinned at Billy Harden in a way that -seemed to make him wild, though he tried not to show it. Somehow the -doctor seemed to be all keyed up, instead of scared, like a feller -that's had jest enough to drink to give him a fighting edge. - -“Mr. Chairman,” says Billy Harden, flushing up and stuttering jest a -little, “I b-beg leave to d-d-decline.” - -“What,” says the doctor, sort of playing with Billy with his eyes and -grin, and turning like to let the whole crowd in on the joke, “_decline_? -The eminent gentleman declines! And he is going to sit down, too, with -all that speech bottled up in him! O Demosthenes!” he says, “you have -lost your pebble in front of all Greece.” - -Several grinned at Billy Harden as he set down, and three or four -laughed outright. I guess about half of them there knowed him fur a wind -bag, and some wasn't sorry to see him joshed. But I seen what the doctor -was trying to do. He knowed he was in an awful tight place, and he was -feeling that crowd's pulse, so to speak. He had been talking to crowds -fur twenty years, and he knowed the kind of sudden turns they will take, -and how to take advantage of 'em. He was planning and figgering in his -mind all the time jest what side to ketch 'em on, and how to split up -the one, solid crowd-mind into different minds. But the little bit of -a laugh he turned against Billy Harden was only on the surface, like a -straw floating on a whirlpool. These men was here fur business. - -Buck Hightower jumps up and says: - -“Will, I'm getting tired of this court foolishness. The question is, -Does this man come into this county and do what he has done and get out -again? We know all about him. He sneaked in here and gave out he was -here to turn the niggers white--that he was some kind of a new-fangled -Jesus sent especially to niggers, which is blasphemy in itself--and -he's got 'em stirred up. They're boilin' and festerin' with notions of -equality till we're lucky if we don't have to lynch a dozen of 'em, -like they did in Atlanta last summer, to get 'em back into their places -again. Do we save ourselves more trouble by stringing him up as a -warning to the negroes? Or do we invite trouble by turning him loose? -Which? All it needs is a vote.” - -And he set down agin. You could see he had made a hit with the boys. -They was a kind of a growl rolled around the room. The feelings in that -place was getting stronger and stronger. I was scared, but trying not to -show it. My fingers kept feeling around in my pocket fur something that -wasn't there. But my brain couldn't remember what my fingers was feeling -fur. Then it come on me sudden it was a buckeye I picked up in the -woods in Indiany one day, and I had lost it. I ain't superstitious about -buckeyes or horse-shoes, but remembering I had lost it somehow made me -feel worse. But Doctor Kirby had a good holt on himself; his face was -a bit redder'n usual, and his eyes was sparkling, and he was both eager -and watchful. When Buck Hightower sets down the chairman clears his -throat like he is going to speak. But-- - -“Just a moment,” says Doctor Kirby, getting on his feet, and taking -a step toward the chairman. And the way he stopped and stood made -everybody look at him. Then he went on: - -“Once more,” he says, “I call the attention of every man present to the -fact that what the last speaker proposes is--” - -And then he let 'em have that word agin, full in their faces, to think -about-- - -“_Murder!_ Merely murder.” - -He was bound they shouldn't get away from that word and what it stood -fur. And every man there _did_ think, too, fur they was another little -pause. And not one of 'em looked at another one fur a minute. Doctor -Kirby leaned forward from the platform, running his eyes over the crowd, -and jest natcherally shoved that word into the room so hard with his -mind that every mind there had to take it in. - -But as he held 'em to it they come a bang from one of the windows. It -broke the charm. Fur everybody jumped. I jumped myself. When the end -of the world comes and the earth busts in the middle, it won't sound no -louder than that bang did. It was a wooden shutter. The wind was rising -outside, and it flew open and whacked agin' the building. - -Then a big, heavy-set man that hadn't spoke before riz up from one of -the hind seats, like he had heard a dare to fight, and walked slowly -down toward the front. He had a red face, which was considerable -pock-marked, and very deep-set eyes, and a deep voice. - -“Since when,” he says, taking up his stand a dozen feet or so in front -of the doctor, “since when has any civilization refused to commit murder -when murder was necessary for its protection?” - -One of the top glasses of that window was out, and with the shutter open -they come a breeze through that fluttered some strips of dirty-coloured -papers, fly-specked and dusty and spider-webbed, that hung on strings -acrost the room, jest below the ceiling. I guess they had been left over -from some Christmas doings. - -“My friend,” said the pock-marked man to the doctor--and the funny thing -about it was he didn't talk unfriendly when he said it--“the word you -insist on is just a _word_, like any other word.” - -They was a spider rousted out of his web by that disturbance among the -strings and papers. He started down from above on jest one string of -web, seemingly spinning part of it out of himself as he come, the way -they do. I couldn't keep my eyes off'n him. - -“Murder,” says the doctor, “is a thing.” - -“It is a _word_,” says the other man, “_For_ a thing. For a thing which -sometimes seems necessary. Lynching, war, execution, murder--they are -all words for different ways of wiping out human life. Killing sometimes -seems wrong, and sometimes right. But right or wrong, and with one word -or another tacked to it, it is _done_ when a community wants to get rid of -something dangerous to it.” - -That there spider was a squat, ugly-looking devil, hunched up on his -string amongst all his crooked legs. The wind would come in little -puffs, and swing him a little way toward the doctor's head, and then -toward the pock-marked man's head, back and forth and back and forth, -between them two as they spoke. It looked to me like he was listening to -what they said and waiting fur something. - -“Murder,” says the doctor, “is murder--illegal killing--and you can't -make anything else out of it, or talk anything else into it.” - -It come to me all to oncet that that ugly spider was swinging back and -forth like the pendulum on a clock, and marking time. I wondered how -much time they was left in the world. - -“It would be none the less a murder,” said the pock-marked man, “if you -were to be hanged after a trial in some county court. Society had been -obliged to deny the privilege of committing murder to the individual and -reserve it for the community. If our communal sense says you should die, -the thing is neither better nor worse than if a sheriff hanged you.” - -“I am not to be hanged by a sheriff,” says the doctor, very cool and -steady, “because I have committed no crime. I am not to be killed by you -because you dare not, in spite of all you say, outrage the law to that -extent.” - -And they looked each other in the eyes so long and hard that every one -else in the schoolhouse held their breath. - -“_Dare_ not?” says the pock-marked man. And he reached forward slow and -took that spider in his hand, and crushed it there, and wiped his hand -along his pants leg. “Dare not? _Yes, but we dare_. The only question for -us men here is whether we dare to let you go free.” - -“Your defence of lynching,” says Doctor Kirby, “shows that you, at -least, are a man who can think. Tell me what I am accused of?” - -And then the trial begun in earnest. - - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -The doctor acted as his own lawyer, and the pock-marked man, whose name -was Grimes, as the lawyer agin us. You could see that crowd had made up -its mind before-hand, and was only giving us what they called a trial -to satisfy their own conscience. But the fight was betwixt Grimes and -Doctor Kirby the hull way through. - -One witness was a feller that had been in the hotel at Cottonville the -night we struck that place. We had drunk some of his licker. - -“This man admitted himself that he was here to turn the niggers white,” - said the witness. - -Doctor Kirby had told 'em what kind of medicine he was selling. We both -remembered it. We both had to admit it. - -The next witness was the feller that run the tavern at Bairdstown. He -had with him, fur proof, a bottle of the stuff we had brought with us. -He told how we had went away and left it there that very morning. - -Another witness told of seeing the doctor talking in the road to that -there nigger bishop. Which any one could of seen it easy enough, fur -they wasn't nothing secret about it. We had met him by accident. But you -could see it made agin us. - -Another witness says he lives not fur from that Big Bethel church. -He says he has noticed the niggers was worked up about something fur -several days. They are keeping the cause of it secret. He went over to -Big Bethel church the night before, he said, and he listened outside one -of the windows to find out what kind of doctrine that crazy bishop was -preaching to them. They was all so worked up, and the power was with -'em so strong, and they was so excited they wouldn't of hearn an army -marching by. He had hearn the bishop deliver a message to his flock from -the Messiah. He had seen him go wild, afterward, and preach an equality -sermon. That was the lying message the old bishop had took to 'em, and -that Sam had told us about. But how was this feller to know it was a -lie? He believed in it, and he told it in a straight-ahead way that -would make any one see he was telling the truth as he thought it to be. - -Then they was six other witnesses. All had been in the gang that lynched -the nigger that day. That nigger had confessed his crime before he was -lynched. He had told how the niggers had been expecting of a Messiah fur -several days, and how the doctor was him. He had died a-preaching and -a-prophesying and thinking to the last minute maybe he was going to get -took up in a chariot of fire. - -Things kept looking worse and worse fur us. They had the story as the -niggers thought it to be. They thought the doctor had deliberately -represented himself as such, instead of which the doctor had refused to -be represented as that there Messiah. More than that, he had never -sold a bottle of that medicine. He had flung the idea of selling it way -behind him jest as soon as he seen what the situation really was in the -black counties. He had even despised himself fur going into it. But the -looks of things was all the other way. - -Then the doctor give his own testimony. - -“Gentlemen,” he says, “it is true that I came down here to try out that -stuff in the bottle there, and see if a market could be worked up -for it. It is also true that, after I came here and discovered what -conditions were, I decided not to sell the stuff. I didn't sell any. -About this Messiah business I know very little more than you do. The -situation was created, and I blundered into it. I sent the negroes word -that I was not the person they expected. The bishop lied to them. That -is my whole story.” - -But they didn't believe him. Fur it was jest what he would of said if he -had been guilty, as they thought him. And then Grimes gets up and says: - -“Gentlemen, I demand for this prisoner the penalty of death. - -“He has lent himself to a situation calculated to disturb in this county -the peaceful domination of the black race by the white. - -“He is a Northern man. But that is not against him. If this were a case -where leniency were possible, it should count for him, as indicating an -ignorance of the gravity of conditions which confront us here, every day -and all the time. If he were my own brother, I would still demand his -death. - -“Lest he should think my attitude dictated by any lingering sectional -prejudice, I may tell him what you all know--you people among whom I -have lived for thirty years--that I am a Northern man myself. - -“The negro who was lynched to-day might never have committed the crime -he did had not the wild, disturbing dream of equality been stirring in -his brain. Every speech, every look, every action which encourages that -idea is a crime. In this county, where the blacks outnumber us, we must -either rule as masters or be submerged. - -“This man is still believed by the negroes to possess some miraculous -power. He is therefore doubly dangerous. As a sharp warning to them -he must die. His death will do more toward ending the trouble he has -prepared than the death of a dozen negroes. - -“And as God is my witness, I speak and act not through passion, but from -the dictates of conscience.” - -He meant it, Grimes did. And when he set down they was a hush. And then -Will, the chairman, begun to call the roll. - -I never been much of a person to have bad dreams or nightmares or things -like that. But ever since that night in that schoolhouse, if I do have a -nightmare, it takes the shape of that roll being called. Every word was -like a spade grating and gritting in damp gravel when a grave is dug. It -sounded so to me. - -“Samuel Palmour, how do you vote?” that chairman would say. - -Samuel Palmour, or whoever it was, would hist himself to his feet, and -he would say something like this: - -“Death.” - -He wouldn't say it joyous. He wouldn't say it mad. He would be pale when -he said it, mebby--and mebby trembling. But he would say it like it was -a duty he had to do, that couldn't be got out of. That there trial had -lasted so long they wasn't hot blood left in nobody jest then--only cold -blood, and determination and duty and principle. - -“Buck Hightower,” says the chairman, “how do you vote?” - -“Death,” says Buck; “death for the man. But say, can't we jest _lick_ the -kid and turn him loose?” - -And so it went, up one side the room and down the other. Grimes had -showed 'em all their duty. Not but what they had intended to do it -before Grimes spoke. But he had put it in such a way they seen it was -something with even _more_ principle to it than they had thought it was -before. - -“Billy Harden,” says the chairman, “how do you vote?” Billy was the last -of the bunch. And most had voted fur death. Billy, he opened his mouth -and he squared himself away to orate some. But jest as he done so, the -door opened and Old Daddy Withers stepped in. He had been gone so long -I had plumb forgot him. Right behind him was a tall, spare feller, with -black eyes and straight iron-gray hair. - -“I vote,” says Billy Harden, beginning of his speech, “I vote for death. -The reason upon which I base--” - -But Doctor Kirby riz up and interrupted him. - -“You are going to kill me,” he said. He was pale but he was quiet, and -he spoke as calm and steady as he ever done in his life. “You are going -to kill me like the crowd of sneaking cowards that you are. And you _are_ -such cowards that you've talked two hours about it, instead of doing it. -And I'll tell you why you've talked so much: because no _one_ of you alone -would dare to do it, and every man of you in the end wants to go away -thinking that the other fellow had the biggest share in it. And no _one_ -of you will fire the gun or pull the rope--you'll do it _all together_, in -a crowd, because each one will want to tell himself he only touched the -rope, or that _his gun_ missed. - -“I know you, by God!” he shouted, flushing up into a passion--and it -brought blood into their faces, too--“I know you right down to your -roots, better than you know yourselves.” - -He was losing hold of himself, and roaring like a bull and flinging out -taunts that made 'em squirm. If he wanted the thing over quick, he -was taking jest the way to warm 'em up to it. But I don't think he was -figgering on anything then, or had any plan up his sleeve. He had made -up his mind he was going to die, and he was so mad because he couldn't -get in one good lick first that he was nigh crazy. I looked to see him -lose all sense in a minute, and rush amongst them guns and end it in a -whirl. - -But jest as I figgered he was on his tiptoes fur that, and was getting -up my own sand, he throwed a look my way. And something sobered him. He -stood there digging his finger nails into the palms of his hands fur a -minute, to get himself back. And when he spoke he was sort of husky. - -“That boy there,” he says. And then he stops and kind of chokes up. And -in a minute he was begging fur me. He tells 'em I wasn't mixed up in -nothing. He wouldn't of done it fur himself, but he begged fur me. -Nobody had paid much attention to me from the first, except Buck -Hightower had put in a good word fur me. But somehow the doctor had got -the crowd listening to him agin, and they all looked at me. It got next -to me. I seen by the way they was looking, and I felt it in the air, -that they was going to let me off. - -But Doctor Kirby, he had always been my friend. It made me sore fur to -see him thinking I wasn't with him. So I says: - -“You better can that line of talk. They don't get you without they get -me, too. You orter know I ain't a quitter. You give me a pain.” - -And the doctor and me stood and looked at each other fur a minute. He -grinned at me, and all of a sudden we was neither one of us much giving -a whoop, fur it had come to us both at oncet what awful good friends we -was with each other. - -But jest then they come a slow, easy-going sort of a voice from the -back part of the room. That feller that had come in along with Old Daddy -Withers come sauntering down the middle aisle, fumbling in his coat -pocket, and speaking as he come. - -“I've been hearing a great deal of talk about killing people in the last -few minutes,” he says. - -Everybody rubbered at him. - - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -There was something sort of careless in his voice, like he had jest -dropped in to see a show, and it had come to him sudden that he would -enjoy himself fur a minute or two taking part in it. But he wasn't going -to get _too_ worked up about it, either, fur the show might end by making -him tired, after all. - -As he come down the aisle fumbling in his coat, he stopped and begun to -slap all his pockets. Then his face cleared, and he dived into a -vest pocket. Everybody looked like they thought he was going to pull -something important out of it. But he didn't. All he pulled out was jest -one of these here little ordinary red books of cigarette papers. Then -he dived fur some loose tobacco, and begun to roll one. I noticed his -fingers was long and white and slim and quick. But not excited fingers; -only the kind that seems to say as much as talking says. - -He licked his cigarette, and then he sauntered ahead, looking up. As -he looked up the light fell full on his face fur the first time. He had -high cheek bones and iron-gray hair which he wore rather long, and very -black eyes. As he lifted his head and looked close at Doctor Kirby, a -change went over both their faces. Doctor Kirby's mouth opened like he -was going to speak. So did the other feller's. One side of his mouth -twitched into something that was too surprised to be a grin, and one of -his black eyebrows lifted itself up at the same time. But neither him -nor Doctor Kirby spoke. - -He stuck his cigarette into his mouth and turned sideways from Doctor -Kirby, like he hadn't noticed him pertic'ler. And he turns to the -chairman. - -“Will,” he says. And everybody listens. You could see they all knowed -him, and that they all respected him too, by the way they was waiting -to hear what he would say to Will. But they was all impatient and eager, -too, and they wouldn't wait very long, although now they was hushing -each other and leaning forward. - -“Will,” he says, very polite and quiet, “can I trouble you for a match?” - -And everybody let go their breath. Some with a snort, like they knowed -they was being trifled with, and it made 'em sore. His eyebrows goes up -agin, like it was awful impolite in folks to snort that-away, and he is -surprised to hear it. And Will, he digs fur a match and finds her and -passes her over. He lights his cigarette, and he draws a good inhale, -and he blows the smoke out like it done him a heap of good. He sees -something so interesting in that little cloud of smoke that everybody -else looks at it, too. - -“Do I understand,” he says, “that some one is going to lynch some one, -or something of that sort?” - -“That's about the size of it, colonel,” says Will. - -“Um!” he says, “What for?” - -Then everybody starts to talk all at once, half of them jumping to their -feet, and making a perfect hullabaloo of explanations you couldn't get -no sense out of. In the midst of which the colonel takes a chair and -sets down and crosses one leg over the other, swinging the loose foot -and smiling very patient. Which Will remembers he is chairman of that -meeting and pounds fur order. - -“Thank you, Will,” says the colonel, like getting order was a personal -favour to him. Then Billy Harden gets the floor, and squares away fur a -longwinded speech telling why. But Buck Hightower jumps up impatient and -says: - -“We've been through all that, Billy. That man there has been tried and -found guilty, colonel, and there's only one thing to do--string him up.” - -“Buck, _I_ wouldn't,” says the colonel, very mild. - -But that there man Grimes gets up very sober and steady and says: - -“Colonel, you don't understand.” And he tells him the hull thing as -he believed it to be--why they has voted the doctor must die, the room -warming up agin as he talks, and the colonel listening very interested. -But you could see by the looks of him that colonel wouldn't never be -interested so much in anything but himself, and his own way of doing -things. In a way he was like a feller that enjoys having one part -of himself stand aside and watch the play-actor game another part of -himself is acting out. - -“Grimes,” he says, when the pock-marked man finishes, “I wouldn't. I -really wouldn't.” - -“Colonel,” says Grimes, showing his knowledge that they are all standing -solid behind him, “_we will!_” - -“Ah,” says the colonel, his eyebrows going up, and his face lighting -up like he is really beginning to enjoy himself and is glad he come, -“indeed!” - -“Yes,” says Grimes, “_we will!_” - -“But not,” says the colonel, “before we have talked the thing over a -bit, I hope?” - -“There's been too much talk here now,” yells Buck Hightower, “talk, -talk, till, by God, I'm sick of it! Where's that _rope_?” - -“But, listen to him--listen to the colonel!” some one else sings -out. And then they was another hullabaloo, some yelling “no!” And the -colonel, very patient, rolls himself another smoke and lights it from -the butt of the first one. But finally they quiets down enough so Will -can put it to a vote. Which vote goes fur the colonel to speak. - -“Boys,” he begins very quiet, “I wouldn't lynch this man. In the first -place it will look bad in the newspapers, and--” - -“The newspapers be d---d!” says some one. - -“And in the second place,” goes on the colonel, “it would be against the -law, and--” - -“The law be d----d!” says Buck Hightower. - -“There's a higher law!” says Grimes. - -“Against the law,” says the colonel, rising up and throwing away his -cigarette, and getting interested. - -“I know how you feel about all this negro business. And I feel the same -way. We all know that we must be the negros' masters. Grimes there found -that out when he came South, and the idea pleased him so he hasn't been -able to talk about anything else since. Grimes has turned into what the -Northern newspapers think a typical Southerner is. - -“Boys, this thing of lynching gets to be a habit. There's been a negro -lynched to-day. He's the third in this county in five years. They all -needed killing. If the thing stopped there I wouldn't care so much. But -the habit of illegal killing grows when it gets started. - -“It's grown on you. You're fixing to lynch your first white man now. If -you do, you'll lynch another easier. You'll lynch one for murder and the -next for stealing hogs and the next because he's unpopular and the next -because he happens to dun you for a debt. And in five years life will -be as cheap in Watson County as it is in a New York slum where they feed -immigrants to the factories. You'll all be toting guns and grudges and -trying to lynch each other. - -“The place to stop the thing is where it starts. You can't have it both -ways--you've got to stand pat on the law, or else see the law spit on -right and left, in the end, and _nobody_ safe. It's either law or--” - -“But,” says Grimes, “there's a higher law than that on the statute -books. There's--” - -“There's a lot of flub-dub,” says the colonel, “about higher laws and -unwritten laws. But we've got high enough law written if we live up to -it. There's--” - -“Colonel Tom Buckner,” says Buck Hightower, “what kind of law was it -when you shot Ed Howard fifteen years ago? What--” - -“You're out of order,” says the chairman, “Colonel Buckner has the -floor. And I'll remind you, Buck Hightower, that, on the occasion you -drag in, Colonel Buckner didn't do any talking about higher laws or -unwritten laws. He sent word to the sheriff to come and get him if he -dared.” - -“Boys,” says the colonel, “I'm preaching you higher doctrine than I've -lived by, and I've made no claim to be better or more moral than any of -you. I'm not. I'm in the same boat with all of you, and I tell you -it's up to _all_ of us to stop lynchings in this county--to set our faces -against it. I tell you--” - -“Is that all you've got to say to us, colonel?” - -The question come out of a group that had drawed nearer together -whilst the colonel was talking. They was tired of listening to talk and -arguments, and showed it. - -The colonel stopped speaking short when they flung that question at him. -His face changed. He turned serious all over. And he let loose jest one -word: - -“_No_!” - -Not very loud, but with a ring in it that sounded like danger. And he -got 'em waiting agin, and hanging on his words. - -“No!” he repeats, louder, “not all. I have this to say to you--” - -And he paused agin, pointing one long white finger at the crowd-- - -“_If you lynch this man you must kill me first!_” - -I couldn't get away from thinking, as he stood there making them take -that in, that they was something like a play-actor about him. But he was -in earnest, and he would play it to the end, fur he liked the feelings -it made circulate through his frame. And they saw he was in earnest. - -“You'll lynch him, will you?” he says, a kind of passion getting into -his voice fur the first time, and his eyes glittering. “You think you -will? Well, you _won't_! - -“You won't because _I_ say _not_. Do you hear? I came here to-night to -save him. - -“You might string _him_ up and not be called to account for it. But how -about _me_?” - -He took a step forward, and, looking from face to face with a dare in -his eyes, he went on: - -“Is there a man among you fool enough to think you could kill Tom -Buckner and not pay for it?” - -He let 'em all think of that for jest another minute before he spoke -agin. His face was as white as a piece of paper, and his nostrils was -working, but everything else about him was quiet. He looked the master -of them all as he stood there, Colonel Tom Buckner did--straight and -splendid and keen. And they felt the danger in him, and they felt jest -how fur he would go, now he was started. - -“You didn't want to listen to me a bit ago,” he said. “Now you must. -Listen and choose. You can't kill that man unless you kill me too. - -“_Try it, if you think you can!_” - -He reached over and took from the teacher's desk the sheet of paper Will -had used to check off the name of each man and how he voted. He held it -up in front of him and every man looked at it. - -“You know me,” he says. “You know I do not break my word. And I promise -you that unless you do kill me here tonight--yes, as God is my witness, -I _threaten_ you--I will spend every dollar I own and every atom of -influence I possess to bring each one of you to justice for that man's -murder.” - -They knowed, that crowd did, that killing a man like Colonel Buckner--a -leader and a big man in that part of the state--was a different -proposition from killing a stranger like Doctor Kirby. The sense of what -it would mean to kill Colonel Buckner was sinking into 'em, and showing -on their faces. And no one could look at him standing there, with his -determination blazing out of him, and not understand that unless they -did kill him as well as Doctor Kirby he'd do jest what he said. - -“I told you,” he said, not raising his voice, but dropping it, and -making it somehow come creeping nearer to every one by doing that, “I -told you the first white man you lynched would lead to other lynchings. -Let me show you what you're up against to-night. - -“Kill the man and the boy here, and you must kill me. Kill me, and you -must kill Old Man Withers, too.” - -Every one turned toward the door as he mentioned Old Man Withers. He had -never been very far into the room. - -“Oh, he's gone,” said Colonel Tom, as they turned toward the door, and -then looked at each other. “Gone home. Gone home with the name of every -man present. Don't you see you'd have to kill Old Man Withers too, if -you killed me? And then, _his wife_! And then--how many more? - -“Do you see it widen--that pool of blood? Do you see it spread and -spread?” - -He looked down at the floor, like he really seen it there. He had 'em -going now. They showed it. - -“If you shed one drop,” he went on, “you must shed more. Can't you see -it--widening and deepening, widening and deepening, till you're wading -knee deep in it--till it climbs to your waists--till it climbs to your -throats and chokes you?” - -It was a horrible idea, the way he played that there pool of blood and -he shuddered like he felt it climbing up himself. And they felt it. A -few men can't kill a hull, dern county and get away with it. The way he -put it that's what they was up against. - -“Now,” says Colonel Tom, “what man among you wants to start it?” - -Nobody moved. He waited a minute. Still nobody moved. They all looked -at him. It was awful plain jest where they would have to begin. It was -awful plain jest what it would all end up in. And I guess when they -looked at him standing there, so fine and straight and splendid, it jest -seemed plumb unpossible to make a move. There was a spirit in him that -couldn't be killed. Doctor Kirby said afterward that was what come of -being real “quality,” which was what Colonel Tom was--it was that in him -that licked 'em. It was the best part of their own selves, and the best -part of their own country, speaking out of him to them, that done it. -Mebby so. Anyhow, after a minute more of that strain, a feller by the -door picks up his gun out of the corner with a scrape, and hists it to -his shoulder and walks out. And then Colonel Tom says to Will, with his -eyebrow going up, and that one-sided grin coming onto his face agin: - -“Will, perhaps a motion to adjourn would be in order?” - - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -So many different kinds of feeling had been chasing around inside of me -that I had numb spots in my emotional ornaments and intellectual organs. -The room cleared out of everybody but Doctor Kirby and Colonel Tom and -me. But the sound of the crowd going into the road, and their footsteps -dying away, and then after that their voices quitting, all made but very -little sense to me. I could scarcely realize that the danger was over. - -I hadn't been paying much attention to Doctor Kirby while the colonel -was making that grandstand play of his'n, and getting away with it. -Doctor Kirby was setting in his chair with his head sort of sunk on his -chest. I guess he was having a hard time himself to realize that all -the danger was past. But mebby it wasn't that--he looked like he might -really of forgot where he was fur a minute, and might be thinking of -something that had happened a long time ago. - -The colonel was leaning up agin the teacher's desk, smoking and looking -at Doctor Kirby. Doctor Kirby turns around toward the colonel. - -“You have saved my life,” he says, getting up out of his chair, like -he had a notion to step over and thank him fur it, but was somehow not -quite sure how that would be took. - -The colonel looks at him silent fur a second, and then he says, without -smiling: - -“Do you flatter yourself it was because I think it worth anything?” - -The doctor don't answer, and then the colonel says: - -“Has it occurred to you that I may have saved it because I want it?” - -“_Want_ it?” - -“Do you know of any one who has a better right to _take_ it than I have? -Perhaps I saved it because it _belongs_ to me--do you suppose I want any -one else to kill what I have the best right to kill?” - -“Tom,” says Doctor Kirby, really puzzled, to judge from his actions, “I -don't understand what makes you say you have the right to take my life.” - -“Dave, where is my sister buried?” asts Colonel Tom. - -“Buried?” says Doctor Kirby. “My God, Tom, is she _dead_?” - -“I ask you,” says Colonel Tom. - -“And I ask you,” says Doctor Kirby. - -And they looked at each other, both wonderized, and trying to -understand. And it busted on me all at oncet who them two men really -was. - -I orter knowed it sooner. When the colonel was first called Colonel Tom -Buckner it struck me I knowed the name, and knowed something about it. -But things which was my own consarns was attracting my attention so hard -I couldn't remember what it was I orter know about that name. Then I -seen him and Doctor Kirby knowed each other when they got that first -square look. That orter of put me on the track, that and a lot of other -things that had happened before. But I didn't piece things together like -I orter done. - -It wasn't until Colonel Tom Buckner called him “Dave” and ast him about -his sister that I seen who Doctor Kirby must really be. - -_He was that there david armstrong!_ - -And the brother of the girl he had run off with had jest saved his life. -By the way he was talking, he had saved it simply because he thought he -had the first call on what to do with it. - -“Where is she?” asts Colonel Tom. - -“I ask you,” says Doctor Kirby--or David Armstrong--agin. - -Well, I thinks to myself, here is where Daniel puts one acrost the -plate. And I breaks in: - -“You both got another guess coming,” I says. “She ain't buried -anywheres. She ain't even dead. She's living in a little town in Indiany -called Athens--or she was about eighteen months ago.” - -They both looks at me like they thinks I am crazy. - -“What do you know about it?” says Doctor Kirby. - -“Are you David Armstrong?” says I. - -“Yes,” says he. - -“Well,” I says, “you spent four or five days within a stone's throw of -her a year ago last summer, and she knowed it was you and hid herself -away from you.” - -Then I tells them about how I first happened to hear of David Armstrong, -and all I had hearn from Martha. And how I had stayed at the Davises -in Tennessee and got some more of the same story from George, the old -nigger there. - -“But, Danny,” says the doctor, “why didn't you tell me all this?” - -I was jest going to say that not knowing he was that there David -Armstrong I didn't think it any of his business, when Colonel Tom, he -says to Doctor Kirby--I mean to David Armstrong: - -“Why should you be concerned as to her whereabouts? You ruined her life -and then deserted her.” - -Doctor Kirby--I mean David Armstrong--stands there with the blood going -up his face into his forehead slow and red. - -“Tom,” he says, “you and I seem to be working at cross purposes. Maybe -it would help some if you would tell me just how badly you think I -treated Lucy.” - -“You ruined her life, and then deserted her,” says Colonel Tom agin, -looking at him hard. - -“I _didn't_ desert her,” said Doctor Kirby. “She got disgusted and left -_me_. Left me without a chance to explain myself. As far as ruining her -life is concerned, I suppose that when I married her--” - -“Married her!” cries out the colonel. And David Armstrong stares at him -with his mouth open. - -“My God! Tom,” he says, “did you think--?” - -And they both come to another standstill. And then they talked some more -and only got more mixed up than ever. Fur the doctor thinks she has left -him, and Colonel Tom thinks he has left her. - -“Tom,” says the doctor, “suppose you let me tell my story, and you'll -see why Lucy left me.” - -Him and Colonel Tom had been chums together when they went through -Princeton, it seems--I picked that up from the talk and some of his -story I learned afterward. He had come from Ohio in the beginning, and -his dad had had considerable money. Which he had enjoyed spending of it, -and when he was a young feller never liked to work at nothing else. It -suited him. Colonel Tom, he was considerable like him in that way. So -they was good pals when they was to that school together. They both quit -about the same time. A couple of years after that, when they was -both about twenty-five or six years old, they run acrost each other -accidental in New York one autumn. - -The doctor, he was there figgering on going to work at something or -other, but they was so many things to do he was finding it hard to make -a choice. His father was dead by that time, and looking fur a job in -New York, the way he had been doing it, was awful expensive, and he was -running short of money. His father had let him spend so much whilst -he was alive he was very disappointed to find out he couldn't keep on -forever looking fur work that-a-way. - -So Colonel Tom says why not come down home into Tennessee with him fur -a while, and they will both try and figger out what he orter go to work -at. It was the fall of the year, and they was purty good hunting around -there where Colonel Tom lived, and Dave hadn't never been South any, and -so he goes. He figgers he better take a good, long vacation, anyhow. Fur -if he goes to work that winter or the next spring, and ties up with some -job that keeps him in an office, there may be months and months pass by -before he has another chance at a vacation. That is the worst part of a -job--I found that out myself--you never can tell when you are going to -get shut of it, once you are fool enough to start in. - -In Tennessee he had met Miss Lucy. Which her wedding to Prent McMakin -was billed fur to come off about the first of November, jest a month -away. - -“I don't know whether I ever told you or not,” says the doctor, “but I -was engaged to be married myself, Tom, when I went down to your place. -That was what started all the trouble. - -“You know engagements are like vaccination--sometimes they take, and -sometimes they don't. Of course, I had thought at one time I was in love -with this girl I was engaged to. When I found out I wasn't, I should -have told her so right away. But I didn't. I thought that she would -get tired of me after a while and turn me loose. I gave her plenty of -chances to turn me loose. I wanted her to break the engagement instead -of me. But she wouldn't take the hints. She hung on like an Ohio Grand -Army veteran to a country post-office. About half the time I didn't read -her letters, and about nineteen twentieths of the time I didn't answer -them. They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But it isn't -so--it makes them all the fonder of you. I got into the habit of -thinking that while Emma might be engaged to me, I wasn't engaged to -Emma. Not but what Emma was a nice girl, you know, but-- - -“Well, I met Lucy. We fell in love with each other. It just happened. -I kept intending to write to the other girl and tell her plainly that -everything was off. But I kept postponing it. It seemed like a deuce of -a hard job to tackle. - -“But, finally, I did write her. That was the very day Lucy promised to -throw Prent McMakin over and marry me. You know how determined all your -people were that Lucy should marry McMakin, Tom. They had brought her up -with the idea that she was going to, and, of course, she was bored with -him for that reason. - -“We decided the best plan would be to slip away quietly and get married. -We knew it would raise a row. But there was bound to be a row anyhow -when they found she intended to marry me instead of McMakin. So we -figured we might just as well be away from there. - -“We left your place early on the morning of October 31, 1888--do you -remember the date, Tom? We took the train for Clarksville, Tennessee, -and got there about two o'clock that afternoon. I suppose you have been -in that interesting centre of the tobacco industry. If you have you may -remember that the courthouse of Montgomery County is right across the -street from the best hotel. I got a license and a preacher without any -trouble, and we were married in the hotel parlour that afternoon. One of -the hotel clerks and the county clerk himself were the witnesses. - -“We went to Cincinnati and from there to Chicago. There we got rooms out -on the South Side--Hyde Park, they called it. And I got me a job. I had -some money left, but not enough to buy kohinoors and race-horses with. -Beside, I really wanted to get to work--wanted it for the first time -in my life. You remember young Clayton in our class? He and some other -enterprising citizens had a building and loan association. Such things -are no doubt immoral, but I went to work for him. - -“We had been in Chicago a week when Lucy wrote home what she had done, -and begged forgiveness for being so abrupt about it. At least, I suppose -that is what she wrote. It was--” - -“I remember exactly what she wrote,” says Colonel Tom. - -“I never knew exactly,” says the doctor. “The same mail that brought -word from you that your grandfather had had some sort of a stroke, as a -consequence of our elopement, brought also two letters from Emma. They -had been forwarded from New York to Tennessee, and you had forwarded -them to Chicago. - -“Those letters began the trouble. You see, I hadn't told Emma when I -wrote breaking off the engagement that I was going to get married the -next day. And Emma hadn't received my letter, or else had made up her -mind to ignore it. Anyhow, those letters were regular love-letters. - -“I hadn't really read one of Emma's letters for months. But somehow -I couldn't help reading these. I had forgotten what a gift for the -expression of sentiment Emma had. She fairly revelled in it, Tom. Those -letters were simply writhing with clinging female adjectives. They -_squirmed_ with affection. - -“You may remember that Lucy was a rather jealous sort of a person. -Right in the midst of her alarm and grief and self-reproach over her -grandfather, and in the midst of my efforts to comfort her, she spied -the feminine handwriting on those two letters. I had glanced through -them hurriedly, and laid them on the table. - -“Tom, I was in bad. The dates on them, you know, were so _recent_. I -didn't want Lucy to read them. But I didn't dare to _act_ as if I didn't -want her to. So I handed them over. - -“I suppose--to a bride who had only been married a little more than a -week--and who had hurt her grandfather nearly to death in the marrying, -those letters must have sounded rather odd. I tried to explain. But -all my explanations only seemed to make the case worse for me. Lucy was -furiously jealous. We really had a devil of a row before we were through -with it. I tried to tell her that I loved no one but her. She pointed -out that I must have said much the same sort of thing to Emma. She said -she was almost as sorry for Emma as she was for herself. When Lucy -got through with me, Tom, I looked like thirty cents and felt like -twenty-five of that was plugged. - -“I didn't have sense enough to know that it was most of it grief over -her grandfather, and nerves and hysteria, and the fact that she was -only eighteen years old and lonely, and that being a bride had a certain -amount to do with it. She had told me that I was a beast, and made me -feel like one; and I took the whole thing hard and believed her. I made -a fine, five-act tragedy out of a jealous fit I might have softened into -comedy if I had had the wit. - -“I wasn't so very old myself, and I hadn't ever been married before. I -should have kept my mouth shut until it was all over, and then when she -began to cry I should have coaxed her up and made her feel like I was -the only solid thing to hang on to in the whole world. - -“But the bottom had dropped out of the universe for me. She had said she -hated me. I was fool enough to believe her. I went downtown and began -to drink. I come home late that night. The poor girl had been waiting up -for me--waiting for hours, and becoming more and more frightened when I -didn't show up. She was over her jealous fit, I suppose. If I had come -home in good shape, or in anything like it, we would have made up then -and there. But my condition stopped all that. I wasn't so drunk but that -I saw her face change when she let me in. She was disgusted. - -“In the morning I was sick and feverish. I was more than disgusted with -myself. I was in despair. If she had hated me before--and she had said -she did--what must she do now? It seemed to me that I had sunk so far -beneath her that it would take years to get back. It didn't seem worth -while making any plea for myself. You see, I was young and had serious -streaks all through me. So when she told me that she had written home -again, and was going back--was going to leave me, I didn't see that -it was only a bluff. I didn't see that she was really only waiting to -forgive me, if I gave her a chance. I started downtown to the building -and loan office, wondering when she would leave, and if there was -anything I could do to make her change her mind. I must repeat again -that I was a fool--that I needed only to speak one word, had I but known -it. - -“If I had gone straight to work, everything might have come around all -right even then. But I didn't. I had that what's-the-use feeling. And I -stopped in at the Palmer House bar to get something to sort of pull me -together. - -“While I was there, who should come up to the bar and order a drink but -Prent McMakin.” - -“Yes!” says Colonel Tom, as near excited as he ever got. - -“Yes,” says Armstrong, “nobody else. We saw each other in the mirror -behind the bar. I don't know whether you ever noticed it or not, Tom, -but McMakin's eyes had a way of looking almost like cross-eyes when he -was startled or excited. They were a good deal too near together at any -time. He gave me such a look when our eyes met in the mirror that, for -an instant, I thought that he intended to do me some mischief--shoot me, -you know, for taking his bride-to-be away from him, or some fool thing -like that. But as we turned toward each other I saw he had no intention -of that sort.” - -“Hadn't he?” says Colonel Tom, mighty interested. - -“No,” says the doctor, looking at Colonel Tom very puzzled, “did you -think he had?” - -“Yes, I did,” says the colonel, right thoughtful. - -“On the contrary,” says Armstrong, “we had a drink together. And he -congratulated me. Made me quite a little speech, in fact; one of the -flowery kind, you know, Tom, and said that he bore me no rancour, and -all that.” - -“The deuce he did!” says Colonel Tom, very low, like he was talking to -himself. “And then what?” - -“Then,” says the doctor, “then--let me see--it's all a long time ago, -you know, and McMakin's part in the whole thing isn't really important.” - -“I'm not so sure it isn't important,” says the colonel, “but go on.” - -“Then,” says Armstrong, “we had another drink together. In fact, a -lot of them. We got awfully friendly. And like a fool I told him of my -quarrel with Lucy.” - -“_Like_ a fool,” says Colonel Tom, nodding his head. “Go on.” - -“There isn't much more to tell,” says the doctor, “except that I made -a worse idiot of myself yet, and left McMakin about two o'clock in the -afternoon, as near as I can recollect. Somewhere about ten o'clock that -night I went home. Lucy was gone. I haven't seen her since.” - -“Dave,” says Colonel Tom, “did McMakin happen to mention to you, that -day, just why he was in Chicago?” - -“I suppose so,” says the doctor. “I don't know. Maybe not. That was -twenty years ago. Why?” - -“Because,” says Colonel Tom, very grim and quiet, “because your first -thought as to his intention when he met you in the bar was _my_ idea -also. I thought he went to Chicago to settle with you. You see, I got to -Chicago that same afternoon.” - -“The same day?” - -“Yes. We were to have come together. But I missed the train, and he got -there a day ahead of me. He was waiting at the hotel for me to join him, -and then we were going to look you up together. He found you first and I -never did find you.” - -“But I don't exactly understand,” says the doctor. “You say he had the -idea of shooting me.” - -“I don't understand everything myself,” says Colonel Tom. “But I do -understand that Prent McMakin must have played some sort of a two-faced -game. He never said a word to me about having seen you. - -“Listen,” he goes on. “When you and Lucy ran away it nearly killed our -grandfather. In fact, it finally did kill him. When we got Lucy's letter -that told you were in Chicago I went up to bring her back home. We -didn't know what we were going to do, McMakin and I, but we were both -agreed that you needed killing. And he swore that he would marry Lucy -anyhow, even--” - -“_Marry her!_” sings out the doctor, “but we _were_ married.” - -“Dave,” Colonel Tom says very slow and steady, “you keep _saying_ you were -married. But it's strange--it's right _strange_ about that marriage.” - -And he looked at the doctor hard and close, like he would drag the truth -out of him, and the doctor met his look free and open. You would of -thought Colonel Tom was saying with his look: “You _must_ tell me the -truth.” And the doctor with his was answering: “I _have_ told you the -truth.” - -“But, Tom,” says the doctor, “that letter she wrote you from Chicago -must--” - -“Do you know what Lucy wrote?” interrupts Colonel Tom. “I remember -exactly. It was simply: '_Forgive me. I loved him so. I am happy. I know -it is wrong, but I love him so you must forgive me_.'” - -“But couldn't you tell from _that_ we were married?” cries out the doctor. - -“She didn't mention it,” says Colonel Tom. - -“She supposed that her own family had enough faith in her to take it for -granted,” says the doctor, very scornful, his face getting red. - -“But wait, Dave,” says Colonel Tom, quiet and cool. “Don't bluster with -me. There are still a lot of things to be explained. And that marriage -is one of them. - -“To go back a bit. You say you got to the house somewhere around ten -o'clock that evening and found Lucy gone. Do you remember the day of the -month?” - -“It was November 14, 1888.” - -“Exactly,” says Colonel Tom. “I got to Chicago at six o'clock of that -very day. And I went at once to the address in Lucy's letter. I got -there between seven and eight o'clock. She was gone. My thought was that -you must have got wind of my coming and persuaded her to leave with you -in order to avoid me--although I didn't see how you could know when I -would get there, either, when I thought it over.” - -“And you have never seen her since,” says Armstrong, pondering. - -“I _have_ seen her since,” says Colonel Tom, “and that is one thing that -makes me say your story needs further explanation.” - -“But where--when--did you see her?” asts the doctor, mighty excited. - -“I am coming to that. I went back home again. And in July of the next -year I heard from her.” - -“Heard from her?” - -“By letter. She was in Galesburg, Illinois, if you know where that is. -She was living there alone. And she was almost destitute. I wrote her to -come home. She would not. But she had to live. I got rid of some of our -property in Tennessee, and took enough cash up there with me to fix her, -in a decent sort of way, for the rest of her life, and put it in the -bank. I was with her there for ten days; then I went back home to get -Aunt Lucy Davis to help me in another effort to persuade her to return. -But when I got back North with Aunt Lucy she had gone.” - -“Gone?” - -“Yes, and when we returned without her to Tennessee there was a letter -telling us not to try to find her. We thought--I thought--that she might -have taken up with you once again.” - -“But, my God! Tom,” the doctor busts out, “you were with her ten days -there in Galesburg! Didn't she tell you then--couldn't you tell from the -way she acted--that she had married me?” - -“That's the odd thing, Dave,” says the colonel, very slow and -thoughtful. “That's what is so very strange about it all. I merely -assumed by my attitude that you were not married, and she let me assume -it without a protest.” - -“But did you ask her?” - -“Ask her? No. Can't you see that there was no reason why I should ask -her? I was sure. And being sure of it, naturally I didn't talk about it -to her. You can understand that I wouldn't, can't you? In fact, I never -mentioned you to her. She never mentioned you to me.” - -“You must have mistaken her, Tom.” - -“I don't think it's possible, Dave,” said the colonel. “You can mistake -words and explanations a good deal easier than you can mistake an -atmosphere. No, Dave, I tell you that there's something odd about -it--married or not, Lucy didn't _believe_ herself married the last time I -saw her.” - -“But she _must_ have known,” says the doctor, as much to himself as to the -colonel. “She _must_ have known.” Any one could of told by the way he said -it that he wasn't lying. I could see that Colonel Tom believed in him, -too. They was both sicking their intellects onto the job of figgering -out how it was Lucy didn't know. Finally the doctor says very -thoughtful: - -“Whatever became of Prentiss McMakin, Tom?” - -“Dead,” says Colonel Tom, “quite a while ago.” - -“H-m,” says the doctor, still thinking hard. And then looks at Colonel -Tom like they was an idea in his head. Which he don't speak her out. But -Colonel Tom seems to understand. - -“Yes,” he says, nodding his head. “I think you are on the right track -now. Yes--I shouldn't wonder.” - -Well, they puts this and that together, and they agrees that whatever -happened to make things hard to explain must of happened on that day -that Prentiss McMakin met the doctor in the bar-room, and didn't shoot -him, as he had made his brags he would. Must of happened between the -time that afternoon when Prentiss McMakin left the doctor and the time -Colonel Tom went out to see his sister and found she had went. Must of -happened somehow through Prent McMakin. - -We goes home with Colonel Tom that night. And the next day all three of -us is on our way to Athens, Indiany, where I had seen Miss Lucy at. - - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -Fur my part, as the train kept getting further and further north, my -feelings kept getting more and more mixed. It come to me that I might be -steering straight fur a bunch of trouble. The feeling that sadness and -melancholy and seriousness was laying ahead of me kept me from really -enjoying them dollar-apiece meals on the train. It was Martha that done -it. All this past and gone love story I had been hearing about reminded -me of Martha. And I was steering straight toward her, and no way out of -it. How did I know but what that there girl might be expecting fur to -marry me, or something like that? Not but what I was awful in love with -her whilst we was together. But it hadn't really set in on me very -deep. I hadn't forgot about her right away. But purty soon I had got to -forgetting her oftener than I remembered her. And now it wasn't no use -talking--I jest wasn't in love with Martha no more, and didn't have -no ambition to be. I had went around the country a good bit, and got -intrusted in other things, and saw several other girls I liked purty -well. Keeping steady in love with jest one girl is mighty hard if you -are moving around a good bit. - -But I was considerable worried about Martha. She was an awful romanceful -kind of girl. And even the most sensible kind is said to be fools about -getting their hearts broke and pining away and dying over a feller. I -would hate to think Martha had pined herself sick. - -I couldn't shut my eyes to the fact we was engaged to each other legal, -all right. And if she wanted to act mean about it and take it to a court -it would likely be binding on me. Then I says to myself is she is mean -enough to do that I'll be derned if I don't go to jail before I marry -her, and stay there. - -And then my conscience got to working inside of me agin. And a picture -of her getting thin and not eating her vittles regular and waiting and -waiting fur me to show up, and me never doing it, come to me. And I felt -sorry fur poor Martha, and thought mebby I would marry her jest to keep -her from dying. Fur you would feel purty tough if a girl was to get so -stuck on you it killed her. Not that I ever seen that really happen, -either; but first and last there has been considerable talk about it. - -It wasn't but what I liked Martha well enough. It was the idea of -getting married, and staying married, made me feel so anxious. Being -married may work out all right fur some folks. But I knowed it never -would work any with me. Or not fur long. Because why should I want to be -tied down to one place, or have a steady job? That would be a mean way -to live. - -Of course, with a person that was the doctor's age it would be -different. He had done his running around and would be willing to settle -down now, I guessed. That is, if he could get his differences with this -here Buckner family patched up satisfactory. I wondered whether he would -be able to or not. Him and Colonel Tom were talking constant on the -train all the way up. From the little stretches of their talk I couldn't -help hearing, I guessed each one was telling the other all that had -happened to him in the time that had passed by. Colonel Tom what kind -of a life he had lived, and how he had married and his wife had died and -left him a widower without any kids. And the doctor--it was always -hard fur me to get to calling him anything but Doctor Kirby--how he had -happened to start out with a good chancet in life and turn into jest a -travelling fakir. - -Well, I thinks to myself now that he has got to be that, mebby her and -him won't suit so well now, even if they does get their differences -patched up. Fur all the forgiving in the world ain't going to change -things, or make them no different. But, so long as the doctor appeared -to want to find her so derned bad, I was awful glad I had been the means -of getting him and Miss Lucy together. He had done a lot fur me, first -and last, the doctor had, and I felt like it helped pay him a little. -Though if they was to settle down like married folks I would feel like a -good old sport was spoiled in the doctor, too. - -We had to change cars at Indianapolis to get to that there little town. -We was due to reach it about two o'clock in the afternoon. And the -nearer we got to the place the nervouser and nervouser all three of us -become. And not owning we was. The last hour before we hit the place, I -took a drink of water every three minutes, I was so nervous. And when -we come into the town I was already standing out onto the platform. I -wouldn't of been surprised to find Martha and Miss Lucy down there to -the station. But, of course, they wasn't. Fur some reason I felt glad -they wasn't. - -“Now,” I says to them two, as we got off the train, “foller me and I -will show you the house.” - -Everybody rubbers at strangers in a country town, and wonders why they -have come, and what they is selling, and if they are mebby going to -start a new grain elevator, or buy land, or what. The usual ones around -the depot rubbered at us, and I hearn one geezer say to another: - -“See that big feller there? He was through here a year or two ago -selling patent medicine.” - -[Illustration: 0353] - -“You don't say so!” says the other one, like it was something important, -like a president or a circus had come, and his eyes a-bugging out. And -the doctor hearn them, too. Fur some reason or other he flushed up and -cut a look out of the corner of his eye at Colonel Tom. - -We went right through the main street and out toward the edge of town, -by the crick, where Miss Lucy's house was. And, if anything, all of us -feeling nervouser yet. And saying nothing and not looking at each other. -And Colonel Tom rolling cigarettes and fumbling fur matches and lighting -them and slinging them away. Fur how does anybody know how women is -going to take even the most ordinary little things? - -I knowed the way well enough, and where the house was, but as we went -around the turn in the road I run acrost a surprised feeling. I come -onto the place where our campfire had been them nights we was there. -Looey had drug an old fence post onto the fire one night, and the post -had only burned half up. The butt end of it, all charred and flaked, -was still laying in the grass and weeds there. It hit me with a queer -feeling--like it was only yesterday that fire had been lit there. And -yet I knowed it had been a year and a half ago. - -Well, it has always been my luck to run into things without the right -kind of a lie fixed up ahead of time. They was three or four purty good -stories I had been trying over in my head to tell Martha when I seen -her. Any one of them stories might of done all right; but I hadn't -decided _which_ one to use. And, of course, I run plumb into Martha. She -was standing by the gate, which was about twenty yards from the veranda. -And all four lies popped into my head at oncet, and got so mixed up -with one another there, I seen right off it was useless to try to tell -anything that sounded straight. Besides, when you are in the fix I was -in, what can you tell a girl anyhow? - -So I jest says to her: - -“Hullo!” - -Martha, she had been fussing around some flower bushes with a pair of -shears and gloves on. She looks up when I says that, and she sizes us -all up standing by the gate, and her eyes pops open, and so does her -mouth, and she is so surprised to see me she drops her shears. - -And she looks scared, too. - -“Is Miss Buckner at home?” asts Colonel Tom, lifting his hat very -polite. - -“Miss B-B-Buckner?” Martha stutters, very scared-like, and not taking -her eyes off of me to answer him. - -“Miss Hampton, Martha,” I says. - -“Y-y-y-es, s-sh-she is,” says Martha. I wondered what was the matter -with her. - -It is always my luck to get left all alone with my troubles. The doctor -and the colonel, they walked right past us when she said yes, and up -toward the house, and left her and me standing there. I could of went -along and butted in, mebby. But I says to myself I will have the derned -thing out here and now, and know the worst. And I was so interested in -my trouble and Martha that I didn't even notice if Miss Lucy met 'em at -the door, and if so, how she acted. When I next looked up they was all -in the house. - -“Martha--” I begins. But she breaks in. - -“Danny,” she says, looking like she is going to cry, “don't l-l-look at -me l-l-like that. If you knew _all_ you wouldn't blame me. You--” - -“Wouldn't blame you fur what?” I asts her. - -“I know it's wrong of me,” she says, begging-like. - -“Mebby it is and mebby it ain't,” I says. “But what is it?” - -“But you never wrote to me,” she says. - -“You never wrote to me,” I says, not wanting her to get the best of me, -whatever it was she might be talking about. - -“And then _he_ came to town!--” - -“Who?” I asts her. - -“Don't you know?” she says. “The man I am going to marry.” - -When she said that I felt, all of a sudden, like when you are broke and -hungry and run acrost a half dollar you had forgot about in your other -pants. I was so glad I jumped. - -“Great guns!” I says. - -I had never really knowed what being glad was before. - -“Oh, Danny, Danny,” she says, putting her hands in front of her face, -“and here you have come to claim me for your bride!” - -Which showed me why she had looked so scared. That there girl had went -and got engaged to another feller. And had been laying awake nights -suffering fur fear I would turn up agin. And now I had. Looey, he always -said never to trust a woman! - -“Martha,” I says, “you ain't acted right with me.” - -“Oh, Danny, Danny,” she says, “I know it! I know it!” - -“Some fellers in my place,” I says, “would raise a dickens of a row.” - -“I _did_ love you once,” she says, looking at me from between her fingers. - -“Yes,” says I, acting real melancholy, “you did. And now you've quit it, -they don't seem to me to be nothing left to live fur.” Martha, she was -an awful romanceful girl. I got the notion that mebby she was enjoying -her own remorsefulness a little bit. I fetched a deep sigh and I says: - -“Some fellers would kill theirselves on the spot!” - -“Oh!--Oh!--Oh!--” says Martha. - -“But, Martha,” says I, “I ain't that mean. I ain't going to do that.” - -That dern girl ackshellay give me a disappointed look! If anything, she -was jest a bit _too_ romanceful, Martha was. - -“No,” says I, cheering up a little, “I am going to do something they -ain't many fellers would do, Martha. I'm going to forgive you. Free and -fair and open. And give you back my half of that ring, and--” - -Dern it! I had forgot I had lost that half of that there ring! I -remembered so quick it stopped me. - -“You always kept it, Danny?” she asts me, very soft-spoken, so as not to -give pain to one so faithful and so noble as what I was. “Let me see it, -Danny.” - -I made like I was feeling through all my pockets fur it. But that -couldn't last forever. I run out of pockets purty soon. And her face -begun to show she was smelling a rat. Finally I says: - -“These ain't my other clothes--it must be in them.” - -“Danny,” she says, “I believe you _lost_ it.” - -“Martha,” I says, taking a chancet, “you know you lost _your_ half!” - -She owns up she has lost it a long while ago. And when she lost it, she -says, she knowed that was fate and that our love was omened in under an -evil star. And who was she, she says, to struggle agin fate? - -“Martha,” I says, “I'll be honest with you. Fate got away with my -half too one day when I didn't know they was crooks like her sticking -around.” - -Well, I seen that girl seen through me then. Martha was awful smart -sometimes. And each one was so derned tickled the other one wasn't going -to do any pining away we like to of fell into love all over agin. But -not quite. Fur neither one would ever trust the other one agin. So we -felt more comfortable with each other. You ain't never comfortable with -a person you know is more honest than you be. - -“But,” says Martha, after a minute, “if you didn't come back to make me -marry you, what does Doctor Kirby want to see Miss Hampton about? And -who was that with him?” - -I had been nigh to forgetting the main thing we had all come here fur, -in my gladness at getting rid of any danger of marrying Martha. But it -come to me all to oncet I had been missing a lot that must be taking -place inside that house. I had even missed the way they first looked -when she met 'em at the door, and I wouldn't of missed that fur a lot. -And I seen all to oncet what a big piece of news it will be to Martha. - -“Martha,” I says, “they ain't no Dr. Hartley L. Kirby. The man known as -such is David Armstrong!” - -I never seen any one so peetrified as Martha was fur a minute. - -“Yes,” says I, “and the other one is Miss Lucy's brother. And they -are all three in there straightening themselves out and finding where -everybody gets off at, and why. One of these here serious times you read -about. And you and me are missing it all, like a couple of gumps. How -can we hear?” - -Martha says she don't know. - -“You _think_,” I told her. “We've wasted five good minutes already. I've -_got_ to hear the rest of it. Where would they be?” - -Martha guesses they will all be in the sitting room, which has got the -best chairs in it. - -“What is next to it? A back parlour, or a bedroom, or what?” I was -thinking of how I happened to overhear Perfessor Booth and his fambly -that-a-way. - -Martha says they is nothing like that to be tried. - -“Martha,” I says, “this is serious. This here story they are thrashing -out in there is the only derned sure-enough romanceful story either -you or me is ever lible to run up against personal in all our lives. It -would of been a good deal nicer if they had ast us in to see the wind-up -of it. Fur, if it hadn't of been fur me, they never would of been -reunited and rejuvenated the way they be. But some people get stingy -streaks with their concerns. You think!” - -Martha, she says: “Danny, it wouldn't be honourable to listen.” - -“Martha,” I tells her, “after the way you and me went and jilted each -other, what kind of senses of honour have _we_ got to brag about?” - -She remembers that the spare bedroom is right over the sitting room. -The house is heated with stoves in the winter time. There is a register -right through the floor of the spare bedroom and the ceiling of -the sitting room. Not the kind of a register that comes from a -twisted-around shaft in a house that uses furnace heat. But jest really -a hole in the floor, with a cast-iron grating, to let the heat from -the room below into the one above. She says she guesses two people that -wasn't so very honourable might sneak into the house the back way, and -up the back stairs, and into the spare bedroom, and lay down on their -stummicks on the floor, being careful to make no noise, and both see and -hear through that register. Which we done it. - - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -I could hear well enough, but at first I couldn't see any of them. But -I gathered that Miss Lucy was standing up whilst she was talking, and -moving around a bit now and then. I seen one of her sleeves, and then a -wisp of her hair. Which was aggervating, fur I wanted to know what she -was like. But her voice was so soft and quiet that you kind of knowed -before you seen her how she orter look. - -“Prentiss McMakin came to me that day,” she was saying, “with an -appeal--I hardly know how to tell you.” She broke off. - -“Go ahead, Lucy,” says Colonel Tom's voice. - -“He was insulting,” she said. “He had been drinking. He wanted me -to--to--he appealed to me to run off with him. - -“I was furious--_naturally_.” Her voice changed as she said it enough so -you could feel how furious Miss Lucy could get. She was like her brother -Tom in some ways. - -“I ordered him out of the house. His answer to that was an offer to -marry me. You can imagine that I was surprised as well as angry--I was -perplexed. - -“'But I _am_ married!' I cried. The idea that any of my own people, or any -one whom I had known at home, would think I wasn't married was too much -for me to take in all at once. - -“'You _think_ you are,' said Prentiss McMakin, with a smile. - -“In spite of myself my breath stopped. It was as if a chilly hand had -taken hold of my heart. I mean, physically, I felt like that. - -“'I _am_ married,' I repeated, simply. - -“I suppose that McMakin had got the story of our wedding from _you_.” She -stopped a minute. The doctor's voice answered: - -“I suppose so,” like he was a very tired man. - -“Anyhow,” she went on, “he knew that we went first to Clarksville. He -said: - -“'You think you are married, Lucy, but you are not.' - -“I wish you to understand that Prentiss McMakin did it all very, very -well. That is my excuse. He acted well. There was something about -him--I scarcely know how to put it. It sounds odd, but the truth is that -Prentiss McMakin was always a more convincing sort of a person when he -had been drinking a little than when he was sober. He lacked warmth--he -lacked temperament. I suppose just the right amount put it into him. It -put the devil into him, too, I reckon. - -“He told me that you and he, Tom, had been to Clarksville, and had made -investigations, and that the wedding was a fraud. And he told it with a -wealth of convincing detail. In the midst of it he broke off to ask to -see my wedding certificate. As he talked, he laughed at it, and tore -it up, saying that the thing was not worth the paper it was on, and he -threw the pieces of paper into the grate. I listened, and I let him do -it--not that the paper itself mattered particularly. But the very fact -that I let him tear it showed me, myself, that I was believing him. - -“He ended with an impassioned appeal to me to go with him. - -“I showed him the door. I pretended to the last that I thought he was -lying to me. But I did not think so. I believed him. He had done it -all very cleverly. You can understand how I might--in view of what had -happened?” - -I wanted to see Miss Lucy--how she looked when she said different -things, so I could make up my mind whether she was forgiving the doctor -or not. Not that I had much doubt but what they would get their personal -troubles fixed up in the end. The iron grating in the floor was held -down by four good-sized screws, one at each corner. They wasn't no -filling at all betwixt it and the iron grating that was in the ceiling -of the room below. The space was hollow. I got an idea and took out my -jack-knife. - -“What are you going to do?” whispers Martha. - -“S-sh-sh,” I says, “shut up, and you'll see.” - -One of the screws was loose, and I picked her out easy enough. The -second one I broke the point off of my knife blade on. Like you nearly -always do on a screw. When it snapped Colonel Tom he says: - -“What's that?” He was powerful quick of hearing, Colonel Tom was. I laid -low till they went on talking agin. Then Martha slides out on tiptoe and -comes back in three seconds with one of these here little screw-drivers -they use around sewing-machines and the little oil can that goes with -it. I oils them screws and has them out in a holy minute, and lifts the -grating from the floor careful and lays it careful on the rug. - -By doing all of which I could get my head and shoulders down into that -there hole. And by twisting my neck a good deal, see a little ways to -each side into the room, instead of jest underneath the grating. The -doctor I couldn't see yet, and only a little of Colonel Tom, but Miss -Lucy quite plain. - -“You mean thing,” Martha whispers, “you are blocking it up so I can't -hear.” - -“Keep still,” I whispers, pulling my head out of the hole so the sound -wouldn't float downward into the room below. “You are jest like all -other women--you got too much curiosity.” - -“How about yourself?” says she. - -“Who was it thought of taking the grating off?” I whispers back to her. -Which settles her temporary, but she says if I don't give her a chancet -at it purty soon she will tickle my ribs. - -When I listens agin they are burying that there Prent McMakin. But -without any flowers. - -Miss Lucy, she was half setting on, half leaning against, the arm of a -chair. Which her head was jest a bit bowed down so that I couldn't see -her eyes. But they was the beginnings of a smile onto her face. It was -both soft and sad. - -“Well,” says Colonel Tom, “you two have wasted almost twenty years of -life.” - -“There is one good thing,” says the doctor. “It is a good thing that -there was no child to suffer by our mistakes.” - -She raised her face when he said that, Miss Lucy did, and looked in his -direction. - -“You call that a good thing?” she says, in a kind of wonder. And after -a minute she sighs. “Perhaps,” she says, “you are right. Heaven only -knows. Perhaps it _was_ better that he died.” - -“_Died!_” sings out the doctor. - -And I hearn his chair scrape back, like he had riz to his feet sudden. -I nearly busted my neck trying fur to see him, but I couldn't. I was all -twisted up, head down, and the blood getting into my head from it so I -had to pull it out every little while. - -“Yes,” she says, with her eyes wide, “didn't you know he died?” And then -she turns quick toward Colonel Tom. “Didn't you tell him--” she begins. -But the doctor cuts in. - -“Lucy,” he says, his voice shaking and croaking in his throat, “I never -knew there was a child!” - -I hears Colonel Tom hawk in _his_ throat like a man who is either going -to spit or else say something. But he don't do either one. No one says -anything fur a minute. And then Miss Lucy says agin: - -“Yes--he died.” - -And then she fell into a kind of a muse. I have been myself in the fix -she looked to be in then--so you forget fur a while where you are, or -who is there, whilst you think about something that has been in the back -part of your mind fur a long, long time. - -What she was musing about was that child that hadn't lived. I could tell -that by her face. I could tell how she must have thought of it, often -and often, fur years and years, and longed fur it, so that it seemed to -her at times she could almost touch it. And how good a mother she would -of been to it. Some women has jest natcherally _got_ to mother something -or other. Miss Lucy was one of that kind. I knowed all in a flash, -whilst I looked at her there, why she had adopted Martha fur her child. - -It was a wonderful look that was onto her face. And it was a wonderful -face that look was onto. I felt like I had knowed her forever when I -seen her there. Like the thoughts of her the doctor had been carrying -around with him fur years and years, and that I had caught him thinking -oncet or twicet, had been my thoughts too, all my life. - -Miss Lucy, she was one of the kind there's no use trying to describe. -The feller that could see her that-a-way and not feel made good by it -orter have a whaling. Not the kind of sticky, good feeling that makes -you uncomfortable, like being pestered by your conscience to jine a -church or quit cussing. But the kind of good that makes you forget they -is anything on earth but jest braveness of heart and being willing to -bear things you can't help. You knowed the world had hurt her a lot when -you seen her standing there; but you didn't have the nerve to pity her -none, either. Fur you could see she had got over pitying herself. Even -when she was in that muse, longing with all her soul fur that child she -had never knowed, you didn't have the nerve to pity her none. - -“He died,” she says agin, purty soon, with that gentle kind of smile. - -Colonel Tom, he clears his throat agin. Like when you are awful dry. - -“The truth is--” he begins. - -And then he breaks off agin. Miss Lucy turns toward him when he speaks. -By the strange look that come onto her face there must of been something -right curious in _his_ manner too. I was jest simply laying onto my -forehead mashing one of my dern eyeballs through a little hole in the -grating. But I couldn't, even that way, see fur enough to one side to -see how _he_ looked. - -“The truth is,” says Colonel Tom, trying it agin, “that I--well, Lucy, -the child may be dead, but he didn't die when you thought he did.” - -There was a flash of hope flared into her face that I hated to see come -there. Because when it died out in a minute, as I expected it would have -to, it looked to me like it might take all her life out with it. Her -lips parted like she was going to say something with them. But she -didn't. She jest looked it. - -“Why did you never tell me this--that there was a child?” says the -doctor, very eager. - -“Wait,” says Colonel Tom, “let me tell the story in my own way.” - -Which he done it. It seems when he had went to Galesburg this here child -had only been born a few days. And Miss Lucy was still sick. And the kid -itself was sick, and liable to die any minute, by the looks of things. - -Which Colonel Tom wishes that it would die, in his heart. He thinks that -it is an illegitimate child, and he hates the idea of it and he hates -the sight of it. The second night he is there he is setting in his -sister's room, and the woman that has been nursing the kid and Miss Lucy -too is in the next room with the kid. - -She comes to the door and beckons to him, the nurse does. He tiptoes -toward her, and she says to him, very low-voiced, that “it is all over.” - Meaning the kid has quit struggling fur to live, and jest natcherally -floated away. The nurse had thought Miss Lucy asleep, but as both her -and Colonel Tom turn quick toward her bed they see that she has heard -and seen, and she turns her face toward the wall. Which he tries fur to -comfort her, Colonel Tom does, telling her as how it is an illegitimate -child, and fur its own sake it was better it was dead before it ever -lived any. Which she don't answer of him back, but only stares in -a wild-eyed way at him, and lays there and looks desperate, and says -nothing. - -In his heart Colonel Tom is awful glad that it is dead. He can't help -feeling that way. And he quits trying to talk to his sister, fur he -suspicions that she will ketch onto the fact that he is glad that it is -dead. He goes on into the next room. - -He finds the nurse looking awful funny, and bending over the dead kid. -She is putting a looking-glass to its lips. He asts her why. - -She says she thought she might be mistaken after all. She couldn't -say jest _when_ it died. It was alive and feeble, and then purty soon it -showed no signs of life. It was like it hadn't had enough strength to -stay and had jest went. I didn't show any pulse, and it didn't appear -to be breathing. And she had watched it and done everything before she -beckoned to Colonel Tom and told him that it was dead. But as she come -back into the room where it was she thought she noticed something that -was too light to be called a real flutter move its eyelids, which she -had closed down over its eyes. It was the ghost of a move, like it had -tried to raise the lids, or they had tried to raise theirselves, and had -been too weak. So she has got busy and wrapped a hot cloth around it, -and got a drop of brandy or two between its lips, and was fighting to -bring it back to life. And thought she was doing it. Thought she had -felt a little flutter in its chest, and was trying if it had breath at -all. - -Colonel Tom thinks of what big folks the Buckner fambly has always been -at home. And how high they had always held their heads. And how none of -the women has ever been like this before. Nor no disgrace of any kind. -And that there kid, if it is alive, is a sign of disgrace. And he hoped -to God, he said, it wasn't alive. - -But he don't say so. He stands there and watches that nurse fight fur to -hold onto the little mist of life she thinks now is still into it. She -unbuttons her dress and lays the kid against the heat of her own breast. -And wills fur it to live, and fights fur it to, and determines that it -must, and jest natcherally tries fur to bullyrag death into going away. -And Colonel Tom watching, and wishing that it wouldn't. But he gets -interested in that there fight, and so purty soon he is hoping both ways -by spells. And the fight all going on without a word spoken. - -But finally the nurse begins fur to cry. Not because she is sure it is -dead. But because she is sure it is coming back. Which it does, slow. - -“'But I have told _her_ that it is dead,'” says Colonel Tom, jerking his -head toward the other room where Miss Lucy is lying. He speaks in a low -voice and closes the door when he speaks. Fur it looks now like it was -getting strong enough so it might even squall a little. - -“I don't know what kind of a look there was on my face,” says Colonel -Tom, telling of the story to his sister and the doctor, “but she must -have seen that I was--and heaven help me, but I _was_!--sorry that the -baby was alive. It would have been such an easy way out of it had it -been really dead! - -“'She mustn't know that it is living,' I said to the nurse, finally,” - says Colonel Tom, going on with his story. I had been watching Miss -Lucy's face as Colonel Tom talked and she was so worked up by that fight -fur the kid's life she was breathless. But her eyes was cast down, I -guess so her brother couldn't see them. Colonel Tom goes on with his -story: - -“'You don't mean--' said the nurse, startled. - -“'No! No!' I said, 'of course--not that! But--why should she ever know -that it didn't die?'” - -“'It is illegitimate?' asked the nurse. - -“'Yes,' I said.” The long and short of it was, Colonel Tom went on to -tell, that the nurse went out and got her mother. Which the two of them -lived alone, only around the corner. And give the child into the keeping -of her mother, who took it away then and there. - -Colonel Tom had made up his mind there wasn't going to be no bastards in -the Buckner fambly. And now that Miss Lucy thought it was dead he would -let her keep on thinking so. And that would be settled for good and all. -He figgered that it wouldn't ever hurt her none if she never knowed it. - -The nurse's mother kept it all that week, and it throve. Colonel Tom was -coaxing of his sister to go back to Tennessee. But she wouldn't go. So -he had made up his mind to go back and get his Aunt Lucy Davis to come -and help him coax. He was only waiting fur his sister to get well enough -so he could leave her. She got better, and she never ast fur the kid, -nor said nothing about it. Which was probable because she seen he hated -it so. He had made up his mind, before he went back after their Aunt -Lucy Davis, to take the baby himself and put it into some kind of an -institution. - -“I thought,” he says to Miss Lucy, telling of the story, “that you -yourself were almost reconciled to the thought that it hadn't lived.” - -Miss Lucy interrupted him with a little sound. She was breathing hard, -and shaking from head to foot. No one would have thought to look at her -then she was reconciled to the idea that it hadn't lived. It was cruel -hard on her to tear her to pieces with the news that it really had -lived, but had lived away from her all these years she had been longing -fur it. And no chancet fur her ever to mother it. And no way to tell -what had ever become of it. I felt awful sorry fur Miss Lucy then. - -“But when I got ready to leave Galesburg,” Colonel Tom goes on, “it -suddenly occurred to me that there would be difficulties in the way of -putting it in a home of any sort. I didn't know what to do with it--” - -“What _did_ you? What _did_ you? _What did you_?” cries out Miss Lucy, -pressing her hand to her chest, like she was smothering. - -“The first thing I did,” says Colonel Tom, “was to get you to another -house--you remember, Lucy?” - -“Yes, yes!” she says, excited, “and what then?” - -“Perhaps I did a very foolish thing,” says Colonel Tom. - -“After I had seen you installed in the new place and had bidden you -good-bye, I got a carriage and drove by the place where the nurse and -her mother lived. I told the woman that I had changed my mind--that you -were going to raise the baby--that I was going to permit it. I don't -think she quite believed me, but she gave me the baby. What else could -she do? Besides, I had paid her well, when I discharged her, to say -nothing to you, and to keep the baby until I should come for it. They -needed money; they were poor. - -“I was determined that it should never be heard of again. It was about -noon when I left Galesburg. I drove all that afternoon, with the baby -in a basket on the seat of the carriage beside me. Everybody has read -in books, since books were first written--and seen in newspapers, -too--about children being left on door steps. Given an infant to dispose -of, that is perhaps the first thing that occurs to a person. There was -a thick plaid shawl wrapped about the child. In the basket, beside the -baby, was a nursing bottle. About dusk I had it refilled with warm milk -at a farmhouse near--” - -My head was beginning fur to swim. I pulled my head out of that there -hole, and rammed my foot into it. It banged against that grating and -loosened it. It busted loose some plaster, which showered down into the -room underneath. Miss Lucy, she screamed. And the doctor and Colonel Tom -both yelled out to oncet: - -“Who's that?” - -“It's me,” I yells, banging that grating agin. “Watch out below there!” - And the third lick I give her she broke loose and clattered down right -onto a centre table and spilled over some photographs and a vase full of -flowers, and bounced off onto the floor. - -“Look out below,” I yells, “I'm coming down!” - -I let my legs through first, and swung them so I would land to one side -of the table, and held by my hands, and dropped. But struck the table a -sideways swipe and turned it over, and fell onto the floor. The doctor, -he grabbed me by the collar and straightened me up, and give me a shake -and stood me onto my feet. - -“What do you mean--” he begins. But I breaks in. - -“Now then,” I says to Colonel Tom, “did you leave that there child -sucking that there bottle on the doorstep of a blacksmith's house next -to his shop at the edge of a little country town about twenty miles -northeast of Galesburg wrapped up in that there plaid shawl?” - -“I did,” says Colonel Tom. - -“Then,” says I, turning to Miss Lucy, “I can understand why I have been -feeling drawed to _you_ fur quite a spell. I'm him.” - - - - Transcribers Note: The following changes made: - ORIGINAL - PAGE LINE ORIGINAL CHANGED TO - 17 28 Primose, Primrose, - 41 12 jests looks jest looks - 83 14 to, too, - 84 4 jests sets jest sets - 89 28 it it. - 99 13 our fur out fur - 121 4 Chieftan. Chieftain. - 121 16 i it if it - 160 8 them. then. - 183 18 sir fo' sir, fo' - 189 16 shedon' she don' - 207 22 purty seen purty soon - 210 5 They way The way - 212 6 pintetdly pintedly - 251 2 Witherses.' Witherses'. - 251 22 toe hurt to hurt - 269 3 “Gentleman, “Gentlemen, - 276 19 'Will,” “Will,” - 282 9 won't!” won't - 288 16 real y really - 292 10 t ouble. trouble. - 308 1 al right all right - 316 4 I says,” they I says, “they - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Danny's Own Story, by Don Marquis - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANNY'S OWN STORY *** - -***** This file should be named 51925-0.txt or 51925-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/2/51925/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Danny's Own Story - -Author: Don Marquis - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51925] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANNY'S OWN STORY *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - DANNY'S OWN STORY - </h1> - <h2> - By Don Marquis - </h2> - <h3> - Doubleday, Page and Company - </h3> - <h4> - 1912 - </h4> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0011.jpg" alt="0011 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0011.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <h3> - TO - </h3> - <h3> - MY WIFE - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>OW I come not to - have a last name is a question that has always had more or less - aggervation mixed up with it. I might of had one jest as well as not if - Old Hank Walters hadn't been so all-fired, infernal bull-headed about - things in gineral, and his wife Elmira a blame sight worse, and both of em - ready to row at a minute's notice and stick to it forevermore. - </p> - <p> - Hank, he was considerable of a lusher. One Saturday night, when he come - home from the village in his usual fix, he stumbled over a basket that was - setting on his front steps. Then he got up and drawed back his foot - unsteady to kick it plumb into kingdom come. Jest then he hearn Elmira - opening the door behind him, and he turned his head sudden. But the kick - was already started into the air, and when he turns he can't stop it. And - so Hank gets twisted and falls down and steps on himself. That basket lets - out a yowl. - </p> - <p> - “It's kittens,” says Hank, still setting down and staring at that there - basket. All of which, you understand, I am a-telling you from hearsay, as - the lawyers always asts you in court. - </p> - <p> - Elmira, she sings out: - </p> - <p> - “Kittens, nothing! It's a baby!” - </p> - <p> - And she opens the basket and looks in and it was me. - </p> - <p> - “Hennerey Walters,” she says—picking me up, and shaking me at him - like I was a crime, “Hennerey Walters, where did you get this here baby?” - She always calls him Hennerey when she is getting ready to give him fits. - </p> - <p> - Hank, he scratches his head, for he's kind o' confuddled, and thinks mebby - he really has brought this basket with him. He tries to think of all the - places he has been that night. But he can't think of any place but Bill - Nolan's saloon. So he says: - </p> - <p> - “Elmira, honest, I ain't had but one drink all day.” And then he kind o' - rouses up a little bit, and gets surprised and says: - </p> - <p> - “That a <i>baby</i> you got there, Elmira?” And then he says, dignified: - “So fur as that's consarned, Elmira, where did <i>you</i> get that there - baby?” - </p> - <p> - She looks at him, and she sees he don't really know where I come from. Old - Hank mostly was truthful when lickered up, fur that matter, and she knowed - it, fur he couldn't think up no lies excepting a gineral denial when - intoxicated up to the gills. - </p> - <p> - Elmira looks into the basket. They was one of them long rubber tubes - stringing out of a bottle that was in it, and I had been sucking that - bottle when interrupted. And they wasn't nothing else in that basket but a - big thick shawl which had been wrapped all around me, and Elmira often - wore it to meeting afterward. She goes inside and she looks at the bottle - and me by the light, and Old Hank, he comes stumbling in afterward and - sets down in a chair and waits to get Hail Columbia for coming home in - that shape, so's he can row back agin, like they done every Saturday - night. - </p> - <p> - Blowed in the glass of the bottle was the name: “Daniel, Dunne and - Company.” Anybody but them two old ignoramuses could of told right off - that that didn't have nothing to do with me, but was jest the company that - made them kind of bottles. But she reads it out loud three or four times, - and then she says: - </p> - <p> - “His name is Daniel Dunne,” she says. - </p> - <p> - “And Company,” says Hank, feeling right quarrelsome. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Company</i> hain't no name,” says she. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Why</i> hain't it, I'd like to know?” says Hank. “I knowed a man oncet - whose name was Farmer, and if a farmer's a name why ain't a company a name - too?” - </p> - <p> - “His name is Daniel Dunne,” says Elmira, quietlike, but not dodging a row, - neither. - </p> - <p> - “<i>And company</i>,” says Hank, getting onto his feet, like he always - done when he seen trouble coming. When Old Hank was full of licker he - knowed jest the ways to aggervate her the worst. - </p> - <p> - She might of banged him one the same as usual, and got her own eye blacked - also, the same as usual; but jest then I lets out another big yowl, and - she give me some milk. - </p> - <p> - I guess the only reason they ever kep' me at first was so they could - quarrel about my name. They'd lived together a good many years and - quarrelled about everything else under the sun, and was running out of - subjects. A new subject kind o' briskened things up fur a while. - </p> - <p> - But finally they went too far with it one time. I was about two years old - then and he was still calling me Company and her calling me Dunne. This - time he hits her a lick that lays her out and likes to kill her, and it - gets him scared. But she gets around agin after a while, and they both see - it has went too fur that time, and so they makes up. - </p> - <p> - “Elmira, I give in,” says Hank. “His name is Dunne.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” says she, tender-like, “you was right, Hank. His name is Company.” - So they pretty near got into another row over that. But they finally made - it up between em I didn't have no last name, and they'd jest call me - Danny. Which they both done faithful ever after, as agreed. - </p> - <p> - Old Hank, he was a blacksmith, and he used to lamm me considerable, him - and his wife not having any kids of their own to lick. He lammed me when - he was drunk, and he whaled me when he was sober. I never helt it up agin - him much, neither, not fur a good many years, because he got me used to it - young, and I hadn't never knowed nothing else. Hank's wife, Elmira, she - used to lick him jest about as often as he licked her, and boss him jest - as much. So he fell back on me. A man has jest naturally got to have - something to cuss around and boss, so's to keep himself from finding out - he don't amount to nothing. Leastways, most men is like that. And Hank, he - didn't amount to much; and he kind o' knowed it, way down deep in his - inmost gizzards, and it were a comfort to him to have me around. - </p> - <p> - But they was one thing he never sot no store by, and I got along now to - where I hold that up agin him more'n all the lickings he ever done. That - was book learning. He never had none himself, and he was sot agin it, and - he never made me get none, and if I'd ever asted him for any he'd of - whaled me fur that. Hank's wife, Elmira, had married beneath her, and - everybody in our town had come to see it, and used to sympathize with her - about it when Hank wasn't around. She'd tell em, yes, it was so. Back in - Elmira, New York, from which her father and mother come to our part of - Illinoise in the early days, her father had kep' a hotel, and they was - stylish kind o' folks. When she was born her mother was homesick fur all - that style and fur York State ways, and so she named her Elmira. - </p> - <p> - But when she married Hank, he had considerable land. His father had left - it to him, but it was all swamp land, and so Hank's father, he hunted - more'n he farmed, and Hank and his brothers done the same when he was a - boy. But Hank, he learnt a little blacksmithing when he was growing up, - cause he liked to tinker around and to show how stout he was. Then, when - he married Elmira Appleton, he had to go to work practising that - perfession reg'lar, because he never learnt nothing about farming. He'd - sell fifteen or twenty acres, every now and then, and they'd be high times - till he'd spent it up, and mebby Elmira would get some new clothes. - </p> - <p> - But when I was found on the door step, the land was all gone, and Hank was - practising reg'lar, when not busy cussing out the fellers that had bought - the land. Fur some smart fellers had come along, and bought up all that - swamp land and dreened it, and now it was worth seventy or eighty dollars - an acre. Hank, he figgered some one had cheated him. Which the Walterses - could of dreened theirn too, only they'd ruther hunt ducks and have fish - frys than to dig ditches. All of which I hearn Elmira talking over with - the neighbours more'n once when I was growing up, and they all says: “How - sad it is you have came to this, Elmira!” And then she'd kind o' spunk up - and say, thanks to glory, she'd kep' her pride. - </p> - <p> - Well, they was worse places to live in than that there little town, even - if they wasn't no railroad within eight miles, and only three hundred - soles in the hull copperation. Which Hank's shop and our house set in the - edge of the woods jest outside the copperation line, so's the city marshal - didn't have no authority to arrest him after he crossed it. - </p> - <p> - They was one thing in that house I always admired when I was a kid. And - that was a big cistern. Most people has their cisterns outside their - house, and they is a tin pipe takes all the rain water off the roof and - scoots it into them. Ourn worked the same, but our cistern was right in - under our kitchen floor, and they was a trap door with leather hinges - opened into it right by the kitchen stove. But that wasn't why I was so - proud of it. It was because that cistern was jest plumb full of fish—bullheads - and red horse and sunfish and other kinds. - </p> - <p> - Hank's father had built that cistern. And one time he brung home some live - fish in a bucket and dumped em in there. And they growed. And they - multiplied in there and refurnished the earth. So that cistern had got to - be a fambly custom, which was kep' up in that fambly for a habit. It was a - great comfort to Hank, fur all them Walterses was great fish eaters, - though it never went to brains. We fed em now and then, and throwed back - in the little ones till they was growed, and kep' the dead ones picked out - soon's we smelled anything wrong, and it never hurt the water none; and - when I was a kid I wouldn't of took anything fur living in a house like - that. - </p> - <p> - Oncet, when I was a kid about six years old, Hank come home from the - bar-room. He got to chasing Elmira's cat cause he says it was making faces - at him. The cistern door was open, and Hank fell in. Elmira was over to - town, and I was scared. She had always told me not to fool around there - none when I was a little kid, fur if I fell in there I'd be a corpse - quicker'n scatt. - </p> - <p> - So when Hank fell in, and I hearn him splash, being only a little feller, - and awful scared because Elmira had always made it so strong, I hadn't no - sort of unbelief but what Hank was a corpse already. So I slams the trap - door shut over that there cistern without looking in, fur I hearn Hank - flopping around down in there. I hadn't never hearn a corpse flop before, - and didn't know but what it might be somehow injurious to me, and I wasn't - going to take no chances. - </p> - <p> - So I went out and played in the front yard, and waited fur Elmira. But I - couldn't seem to get my mind settled on playing I was a horse, nor - nothing. I kep' thinking mebby Hank's corpse is going to come flopping out - of that cistern and whale me some unusual way. I hadn't never been licked - by a corpse, and didn't rightly know jest what one is, anyhow, being young - and comparitive innocent. So I sneaks back in and sets all the flatirons - in the house on top of the cistern lid. I hearn some flopping and - splashing and spluttering, like Hank's corpse is trying to jump up and is - falling back into the water, and I hearn Hank's voice, and got scareder - yet. And when Elmira come along down the road, she seen me by the gate - a-crying, and she asts me why. - </p> - <p> - “Hank is a corpse,” says I, blubbering. - </p> - <p> - “A corpse!” says Elmira, dropping her coffee which she was carrying home - from the gineral store and post-office. “Danny, what do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - I seen I was to blame somehow, and I wisht then I hadn't said nothing - about Hank being a corpse. And I made up my mind I wouldn't say nothing - more. So when she grabs holt of me and asts me agin what did I mean I - blubbered harder, jest the way a kid will, and says nothing else. I wisht - I hadn't set them flatirons on that door, fur it come to me all at oncet - that even if Hank <i>has</i> turned into a corpse I ain't got any right to - keep him in that cistern. - </p> - <p> - Jest then Old Mis' Rogers, which is one of our neighbours, comes by, while - Elmira is shaking me and yelling out what did I mean and how did it happen - and had I saw it and where was Hank's corpse? - </p> - <p> - And Mis' Rogers she says, “What's Danny been doing now, Elmira?” me being - always up to something. - </p> - <p> - Elmira she turned around and seen her, and she gives a whoop and then - hollers out: “Hank is dead!” and throws her apern over her head and sets - right down in the path and boo-hoos like a baby. And I bellers louder. - </p> - <p> - Mis' Rogers, she never waited to ast nothing more. She seen she had a - piece of news, and she's bound to be the first to spread it, like they is - always a lot of women wants to be in them country towns. She run right - acrost the road to where the Alexanderses lived. Mis' Alexander, she seen - her coming and unhooked the screen door, and Mis' Rogers she hollers out - before she reached the porch: - </p> - <p> - “Hank Walters is dead.” - </p> - <p> - And then she went footing it up the street. They was a black plume on her - bunnet which nodded the same as on a hearse, and she was into and out of - seven front yards in five minutes. - </p> - <p> - Mis' Alexander, she runs acrost the street to where we was, and she kneels - down and puts her arm around Elmira, which was still rocking back and - forth in the path, and she says: - </p> - <p> - “How do you know he's dead, Elmira? I seen him not more'n an hour ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Danny seen it all,” says Elmira. - </p> - <p> - Mis' Alexander turned to me, and wants to know what happened and how it - happened and where it happened. But I don't want to say nothing about that - cistern. So I busts out bellering fresher'n ever, and I says: - </p> - <p> - “He was drunk, and he come home drunk, and he done it then, and that's how - he cone it,” I says. - </p> - <p> - “And you seen him?” she says. I nodded. - </p> - <p> - “Where is he?” says she and Elmira, both to oncet. - </p> - <p> - But I was scared to say nothing about that there cistern, so I jest bawled - some more. - </p> - <p> - “Was it in the blacksmith shop?” says Mis' Alexander. I nodded my head - agin and let it go at that. - </p> - <p> - “Is he in there now?” asts Mis' Alexander. I nodded agin. I hadn't meant - to give out no untrue stories. But a kid will always tell a lie, not - meaning to tell one, if you sort of invite him with questions like that, - and get him scared the way you're acting. Besides, I says to myself, “so - long as Hank has turned into a corpse and that makes him dead, what's the - difference whether he's in the blacksmith shop or not?” Fur I hadn't had - any plain idea, being such a little kid, that a corpse meant to be dead, - and wasn't sure what being dead was like, neither, except they had - funerals over you then. I knowed being a corpse must be some sort of a big - disadvantage from the way Elmira always says keep away from that cistern - door or I'll be one. But if they was going to be a funeral in our house, - I'd feel kind o' important, too. They didn't have em every day in our - town, and we hadn't never had one of our own. - </p> - <p> - So Mis' Alexander, she led Elmira into the house, both a-crying, and Mis' - Alexander trying to comfort her, and me a tagging along behind holding - onto Elmira's skirts and sniffling into them. And in a few minutes all - them women Mis' Rogers has told come filing into that room, one at a time, - looking sad. Only Old Mis' Primrose, she was awful late getting there - because she stopped to put on her bunnet she always wore to funerals with - the black Paris lace on it her cousin Arminty White had sent her from - Chicago. - </p> - <p> - When they found out Hank had come home with licker in him and done it - himself, they was all excited, and they all crowds around and asts me how, - except two as is holding onto Elmira's hands which sets moaning in a - chair. And they all asts me questions as to what I seen him do, which if - they hadn't I wouldn't have told em the lies I did. But they egged me on - to it. - </p> - <p> - Says one woman: “Danny, you seen him do it in the blacksmith shop?” - </p> - <p> - I nodded. - </p> - <p> - “But how did he get in?” sings out another woman. “The door was locked on - the outside with a padlock jest now when I come by. He couldn't of killed - himself in there and locked the door on the outside.” - </p> - <p> - I didn't see how he could of done that myself, so I begun to bawl agin and - said nothing at all. - </p> - <p> - “He must of crawled through that little side window,” says another one. - “It was open when I come by, if the door <i>was</i> locked. Did you see - him crawl through the little side window, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - I nodded. They wasn't nothing else fur me to do. - </p> - <p> - “But <i>you</i> hain't tall enough to look through that there window,” - says another one to me. “How could you see into that shop, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - I didn't know, so I didn't say nothing at all; I jest sniffled. - </p> - <p> - “They is a store box right in under that window,” says another one. “Danny - must have clumb onto that store box and looked in after he seen Hank come - down the road and crawl through the window. Did you scramble onto the - store box and look in, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - I jest nodded agin. - </p> - <p> - “And what was it you seen him do? How did he kill himself?” they all asts - to oncet. - </p> - <p> - <i>I</i> didn't know. So I jest bellers and boo-hoos some more. Things was - getting past anything I could see the way out of. - </p> - <p> - “He might of hung himself to one of the iron rings in the jists above the - forge,” says another woman. “He clumb onto the forge to tie the rope to - one of them rings, and he tied the other end around his neck, and then he - stepped off'n the forge. Was that how he done it, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - I nodded. And then I bellered louder than ever. I knowed Hank was down in - that there cistern, a corpse and a mighty wet corpse, all this time; but - they kind o' got me to thinking mebby he was hanging out in the shop by - the forge, too. And I guessed I'd better stick to the shop story, not - wanting to say nothing about that cistern no sooner'n I could help it. - </p> - <p> - Pretty soon one woman says, kind o' shivery: - </p> - <p> - “I don't want to have the job of opening the door of that blacksmith shop - the first one!” - </p> - <p> - And they all kind o' shivered then, and looked at Elmira. They says to let - some of the men open it. And Mis' Alexander, she says she'll run home and - tell her husband right off. - </p> - <p> - And all the time Elmira is moaning in that chair. One woman says Elmira - orter have a cup o' tea, which she'll lay off her bunnet and go to the - kitchen and make it fur her. But Elmira says no, she can't a-bear to think - of tea, with poor Hennerey a-hanging out there in the shop. But she was - kind o' enjoying all that fuss being made over her, too. And all the other - women says: - </p> - <p> - “Poor thing!” But all the same they was mad she said she didn't want any - tea, for they all wanted some and didn't feel free without she took it - too. Which she said she would after they'd coaxed a while and made her see - her duty. - </p> - <p> - So they all goes out to the kitchen, bringing along some of the best room - chairs, Elmira coming too, and me tagging along behind. And the first - thing they noticed was them flatirons on top of the cistern door. Mis' - Primrose, she says that looks funny. But another woman speaks up and says - Danny must of been playing with them while Elmira was over town. She says, - “Was you playing they was horses, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - I was feeling considerable like a liar by this time, but I says I was - playing horses with them, fur I couldn't see no use in hurrying things up. - I was bound to get a lamming purty soon anyhow. When I was a kid I could - always bet on that. So they picks up the flatirons, and as they picks em - up they come a splashing noise in the cistern. I thinks to myself, Hank's - corpse'll be out of there in a minute. One woman, she says: - </p> - <p> - “Goodness gracious sakes alive! What's that, Elmira?” - </p> - <p> - Elmira says that cistern is mighty full of fish, and they is some great - big ones in there, and it must be some of them a-flopping around. Which if - they hadn't of been all worked up and talking all to oncet and all - thinking of Hank's body hanging out there in the blacksmith shop they - might of suspicioned something. For that flopping kep' up steady, and a - lot of splashing too. I mebby orter mentioned sooner it had been a dry - summer and they was only three or four feet of water in our cistern, and - Hank wasn't in scarcely up to his big hairy chest. So when Elmira says the - cistern is full of fish, that woman opens the trap door and looks in. Hank - thinks it's Elmira come to get him out. He allows he'll keep quiet in - there and make believe he is drowned and give her a good scare and make - her sorry fur him. But when the cistern door is opened, he hears a lot of - clacking tongues all of a sudden like they was a hen convention on. He - allows she has told some of the neighbours, and he'll scare them too. So - Hank, he laid low. And the woman as looks in sees nothing, for it's as - dark down there as the insides of the whale what swallered Noah. But she - leaves the door open and goes on a-making tea, and they ain't skeercly a - sound from that cistern, only little, ripply noises like it might have - been fish. - </p> - <p> - Pretty soon a woman says: - </p> - <p> - “It has drawed, Elmira; won't you have a cup?” Elmira she kicked some - more, but she took hern. And each woman took hern. And one woman, - a-sipping of hern, she says: - </p> - <p> - “The departed had his good pints, Elmira.” - </p> - <p> - Which was the best thing had been said of Hank in that town fur years and - years. - </p> - <p> - Old Mis' Primrose, she always prided herself on being honest, no matter - what come, and she ups and says: - </p> - <p> - “I don't believe in no hippercritics at a time like this, no more'n no - other time. The departed wasn't no good, and the hull town knowed it; and - Elmira orter feel like it's good riddance of bad rubbish and them is my - sentiments and the sentiments of rightfulness.” - </p> - <p> - All the other women sings out: - </p> - <p> - “W'y, <i>Mis' Primrose</i>! I never!” And they seemed awful shocked. But - down in underneath more of em agreed than let on. Elmira she wiped her - eyes and she said: - </p> - <p> - “Hennerey and me has had our troubles. They ain't any use in denying that, - Mis' Primrose. It has often been give and take between us and betwixt us. - And the hull town knows he has lifted his hand agin me more'n oncet. But I - always stood up to Hennerey, and I fit him back, free and fair and open. I - give him as good as he sent on this here earth, and I ain't the one to - carry no annermosities beyond the grave. I forgive Hank all the orneriness - he done me, and they was a lot of it, as is becoming unto a church member, - which he never was.” - </p> - <p> - And all the women but Mis' Primrose, they says: - </p> - <p> - “Elmira Appleton, you <i>have</i> got a Christian sperrit!” Which done her - a heap of good, and she cried considerable harder, leaking out tears as - fast as she poured tea in. Each one on em tries to find out something good - to say about Hank, only they wasn't much they could say. And Hank in that - there cistern a-listening to every word of it. - </p> - <p> - Mis' Rogers, she says: - </p> - <p> - “Afore he took to drinking like a fish, Hank Walters was as likely looking - a young feller as I ever see.” - </p> - <p> - Mis' White, she says: - </p> - <p> - “Well, Hank he never was a stingy man, nohow. Often and often White has - told me about seeing Hank, after he'd sold a piece of land, treating the - hull town down in Nolan's bar-room jest as come-easy, go-easy as if it - wasn't money he orter paid his honest debts with.” - </p> - <p> - They set there that-a-way telling of what good pints they could think of - fur ten minutes, and Hank a-hearing it and getting madder and madder all - the time. The gineral opinion was that Hank wasn't no good and was better - done fur, and no matter what they said them feelings kep' sticking out - through the words. - </p> - <p> - By and by Tom Alexander come busting into the house, and his wife, Mis' - Alexander, was with him. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter with all you folks,” he says. “They ain't nobody - hanging in that there blacksmith shop. I broke the door down and went in, - and it was empty.” - </p> - <p> - Then they was a pretty howdy-do, and they all sings out: - </p> - <p> - “Where's the corpse?” - </p> - <p> - And some thinks mebby some one has cut it down and took it away, and all - gabbles to oncet. But for a minute no one thinks mebby little Danny has - been egged on to tell lies. Little Danny ain't saying a word. But Elmira - she grabs me and shakes me and she says: - </p> - <p> - “You little liar, you, what do you mean by that tale you told?” - </p> - <p> - I thinks that lamming is about due now. But whilst all eyes is turned on - me and Elmira, they comes a voice from that cistern. It is Hank's voice, - and he sings out: - </p> - <p> - “Tom Alexander, is that you?” - </p> - <p> - Some of the women scream, for some thinks it is Hank's ghost. But one - woman says what would a ghost be doing in a cistern? - </p> - <p> - Tom Alexander, he laughs and he says: - </p> - <p> - “What in blazes you want to jump in there fur, Hank?” - </p> - <p> - “You dern ijut!” says Hank, “you quit mocking me and get a ladder, and - when I get out'n here I'll learn you to ast what did I want to jump in - here fur!” - </p> - <p> - “You never seen the day you could do it,” says Tom Alexander, meaning the - day he could lick him. “And if you feel that way about it you can stay - there fur all of me. I guess a little water won't hurt you none.” And he - left the house. - </p> - <p> - “Elmira,” sings out Hank, mad and bossy, “you go get me a ladder!” - </p> - <p> - But Elmira, her temper riz up too, all of a sudden. - </p> - <p> - “Don't you dare order me around like I was the dirt under your feet, - Hennerey Walters,” she says. - </p> - <p> - At that Hank fairly roared, he was so mad. He says: - </p> - <p> - “Elmira, when I get out'n here I'll give you what you won't fergit in a - hurry. I hearn you a-forgiving me and a-weeping over me, and I won't be - forgive nor weeped over by no one! You go and get that ladder.” - </p> - <p> - But Elmira only answers: - </p> - <p> - “You wasn't sober when you fell into there, Hennerey Walters. And now you - can jest stay in there till you get a better temper on you!” And all the - women says: “That's right, Elmira; spunk up to him!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0039.jpg" alt="0039 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0039.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - They was considerable splashing around in the water fur a couple of - minutes. And then, all of a sudden, a live fish come a-whirling out of - that hole, which he had ketched it with his hands. It was a big bullhead, - and its whiskers around its mouth was stiffened into spikes, and it lands - kerplump into Mis' Rogers's lap, a-wiggling, and it kind o' horns her on - the hands, and she is that surprised she faints. Mis' Primrose, she gets - up and pushes that fish back into the cistern with her foot from the floor - where it had fell, and she says right decided: - </p> - <p> - “Elmira Walters, that was Elmira Appleton, if you let Hank out'n that - cistern before he has signed the pledge and promised to jine the church - you're a bigger fool 'n I take you to be. A woman has got to make a - stand!” With that she marches out'n our house. - </p> - <p> - Then all the women sings out: - </p> - <p> - “Send fur Brother Cartwright! Send fur Brother Cartwright!” - </p> - <p> - And they sent me scooting acrost town to get him quick. Which he was the - preacher of the Baptist church and lived next to it. And I hadn't got no - lamming yet! - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> never stopped to - tell but two, three folks on the way to Brother Cartwright's, but they - must of spread it quick. 'Cause when I got back home with him it seemed - like the hull town was there. It was along about dusk by this time, and it - was a prayer-meeting night at the church. Mr. Cartwright told his wife to - tell the folks what come to the prayer-meeting he'd be back before long, - and to wait fur him. Which she really told them where he had went, and - what fur. Mr. Cartwright marches right into the kitchen. All the chairs in - our house was into the kitchen, and the women was a-talking and - a-laughing, and they had sent over to Alexanderses for their chairs and to - Rogerses for theirn. Every oncet in a while they would be a awful bust of - language come up from that hole where that unreginerate old sinner was - cooped up in. - </p> - <p> - I have travelled around considerable since them days, and I have mixed up - along of many kinds of people in many different places, and some of 'em - was cussers to admire. But I never hearn such cussing before or since as - old Hank done that night. He busted his own records and riz higher'n his - own water marks for previous times. I wasn't nothing but a little kid - then, and skeercly fitten fur to admire the full beauty of it. They was - deep down cusses, that come from the heart. Looking back at it after all - these years, I can believe what Brother Cartwright said himself that - night, that it wasn't natcheral cussing and some higher power, like a - demon or a evil sperrit, must of entered into Hank's human carkis and give - that turrible eloquence to his remarks. It busted out every few minutes, - and the women would put their fingers into their ears till a spell was - over. And it was personal, too. Hank, he would listen until he hearn a - woman's voice that he knowed, and then he would let loose on her fambly, - going backwards to her grandfathers and downwards to her children's - children. If her father had once stolen a hog, or her husband done any - disgrace that got found out on him, Hank would put it all into his gineral - remarks, with trimmings onto it. - </p> - <p> - Brother Cartwright, he steps up to the hole in the floor when he first - comes in and he says, gentle-like and soothing, like a undertaker when he - tells you where to set at a home funeral: - </p> - <p> - “Brother Walters.” - </p> - <p> - “Brother!” Hank yells out, “don't ye brother me, you sniffling, - psalm-singing, yaller-faced, pigeon-toed hippercrit, you! Get me a ladder, - gol dern you, and I'll come out'n here and learn you to brother me, I - will.” Only that wasn't nothing to what Hank really said to that preacher; - no more like it than a little yaller, fluffy canary is like a buzzard. - </p> - <p> - “Brother Walters,” says the preacher, ca'am but firm, “we have all decided - that you ain't going to come out of that cistern till you sign the - pledge.” - </p> - <p> - And Hank tells him what he thinks of pledges and him and church doings, - and it wasn't purty. And he says if he was as deep in eternal fire as what - he now is in rain-water, and every fish that nibbles at his toes was a - preacher with a red-hot pitchfork a-jabbing at him, they could jab till - the hull hereafter turned into snow afore he'd ever sign nothing a man - like Mr. Cartwright give him to sign. Hank was stubborner than any mule he - ever nailed shoes onto, and proud of being that stubborn. That town was a - awful religious town, and Hank he knowed he was called the most - onreligious man in it, and he was proud of that too; and if any one called - him a heathen it jest plumb tickled him all over. - </p> - <p> - “Brother Walters,” says that preacher, “we are going to pray for you.” - </p> - <p> - And they done it. They brought all them chairs close up around that - cistern, in a ring, and they all kneeled down there, with their heads on - 'em, and they prayed fur Hank's salvation. They done it up in style, too, - one at a time, and the others singing out, “Amen!” every now and then, and - they shed tears down onto Hank. The front yard was crowded with men, all - a-laughing and a-talking and chawing and spitting tobacco and betting how - long Hank would hold out. Old Si Emery, that was the city marshal, and - always wore a big nickel-plated star, was out there with 'em. Si was in a - sweat, 'cause Bill Nolan, that run the bar-room, and some more of Hank's - friends, or as near friends as he had, was out in the road. They says to - Si he must arrest that preacher, fur Hank is being gradual murdered in - that there water, and he'll die if he's helt there too long, and it will - be a crime. Only they didn't come into the yard to say it amongst us - religious folks. But Si, he says he dassent arrest no one because it is - outside the town copperation; but he's considerable worried too about what - his duty orter be. - </p> - <p> - Pretty soon the gang that Mrs. Cartwright has rounded up at the - prayer-meeting comes stringing along in. They had all brung their hymn - books with them, and they sung. The hull town was there then, and they all - sung, and they sung revival hymns over Hank. And Hank he would jest cuss - and cuss. Every time he busted out into another cussing spell they would - start another hymn. Finally the men out in the front yard got warmed up - too, and begun to sing, all but Bill Nolan's crowd, and they give Hank up - for lost and went away disgusted. - </p> - <p> - The first thing you knowed they was a reg'lar revival meeting there, and - that preacher was preaching a reg'lar revival sermon. I been to more'n one - camp meeting, but fur jest natcherally taking holt of the hull human race - by the slack of its pants and dangling of it over hell-fire, I never hearn - nothing could come up to that there sermon. Two or three old backsliders - in the crowd come right up and repented all over agin on the spot. The - hull kit and biling of 'em got the power good and hard, like they does at - camp meetings and revivals. But Hank, he only cussed. He was obstinate, - Hank was, and his pride and dander had riz up. Finally he says: - </p> - <p> - “You're taking a ornery, low-down advantage o' me, you are. Let me out'n - this here cistern and I'll show you who'll stick it out longest on dry - land, dern your religious hides!” - </p> - <p> - Some of the folks there hadn't had no suppers, so after all the other - sinners but Hank had either got converted or else sneaked away, some of - the women says why not make a kind of love feast out of it, and bring some - vittles, like they does to church sociables. Because it seems likely Satan - is going to wrastle all night long, like he done with the angel Jacob, and - they ought to be prepared. So they done it. They went and they come back - with vittles and they made up hot coffee and they feasted that preacher - and theirselves and Elmira and me, all right in Hank's hearing. - </p> - <p> - And Hank was getting hungry himself. And he was cold in that water. And - the fish was nibbling at him. And he was getting cussed out and weak and - soaked full of despair. And they wasn't no way fur him to set down and - rest. And he was scared of getting a cramp in his legs, and sinking down - with his head under water and being drownded. He said afterward he'd of - done the last with pleasure if they was any way of suing that crowd fur - murder. So along about ten o'clock he sings out: - </p> - <p> - “I give in, gosh dern ye! I give in. Let me out and I'll sign your pesky - pledge!” - </p> - <p> - Brother Cartwright was fur getting a ladder and letting him climb out - right away. But Elmira, she says: - </p> - <p> - “Don't you do it, Brother Cartwright; don't you do it. You don't know Hank - Walters like I does. If he oncet gets out o' there before he's signed that - pledge, he won't never sign it.” - </p> - <p> - So they fixed it up that Brother Cartwright was to write out a pledge on - the inside leaf of the Bible, and tie the Bible onto a string, and a lead - pencil onto another string, and let the strings down to Hank, and he was - to make his mark, fur he couldn't write, and they was to be pulled up - agin. Hank, he says all right, and they done it. But jest as Hank was - making his mark on the leaf of the book, that preacher done what I has - always thought was a mean trick. He was lying on the floor with his head - and shoulders into that hole as fur as he could, holding a lantern way - down into it, so as Hank could see. And jest as Hank made that mark he - spoke some words over him, and then he says: - </p> - <p> - “Now, Henry Walters, I have baptized you, and you are a member of the - church.” - </p> - <p> - You'd a thought Hank would of broke out cussing agin at being took - unexpected that-a-way, fur he hadn't really agreed to nothing but signing - the pledge. But nary a cuss. He jest says: “Now, you get that ladder.” - </p> - <p> - They got it, and he clumb up into the kitchen, dripping and shivering. - </p> - <p> - “You went and baptized me in that water?” he asts the preacher. The - preacher says he has. - </p> - <p> - “Then,” says Hank, “you done a low-down trick on me. You knowed I has made - my brags I never jined no church nor never would jine. You knowed I was - proud of that. You knowed that it was my glory to tell of it, and that I - set a heap of store by it in every way. And now you've went and took it - away from me! You never fought it out fair and square, neither, man - playing to outlast man, like you done with this here pledge, but you - sneaked it in on me when I wasn't looking.” - </p> - <p> - They was a lot of men in that crowd that thought the preacher had went too - far, and sympathized with Hank. The way he done about that hurt Brother - Cartwright in our town, and they was a split in the church, because some - said it wasn't reg'lar and wasn't binding. He lost his job after a while - and become an evangelist. Which it don't make no difference what one of - them does, nohow. - </p> - <p> - But Hank, he always thought he had been baptized reg'lar. And he never was - the same afterward. He had made his life-long brags, and his pride was - broke in that there one pertic'ler spot. And he sorrered and grieved over - it a good 'eal, and got grouchier and grouchier and meaner and meaner, and - lickered oftener, if anything. Signing the pledge couldn't hold Hank. He - was worse in every way after that night in the cistern, and took to - lamming me harder and harder. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ell, all the - lammings Hank laid on never done me any good. It seemed like I was jest - natcherally cut out to have no success in life, and no amount of whaling - could change it, though Hank, he was faithful. Before I was twelve years - old the hull town had seen it, and they wasn't nothing else expected of me - except not to be any good. - </p> - <p> - That had its handy sides to it, too. They was lots of kids there that had - to go to school, but Hank, he never would of let me done that if I had ast - him, and I never asted. And they was lots of kids considerably bothered - all the time with their parents and relations. They made 'em go to Sunday - School, and wash up reg'lar all over on Saturday nights, and put on shoes - and stockings part of the time, even in the summer, and some of 'em had to - ast to go in swimming, and the hull thing was a continuous trouble and - privation to 'em. But they wasn't nothing perdicted of me, and I done like - it was perdicted. Everybody 'lowed from the start that Hank would of made - trash out'n me, even if I hadn't showed all the signs of being trash - anyhow. And if they was devilment anywhere about that town they all says, - “Danny, he done it.” And like as not I has. So I gets to be what you might - call an outcast. All the kids whose folks ain't trash, their mothers tells - 'em not to run with me no more. Which they done it all the more fur that - reason, on the sly, and it makes me more important with them. - </p> - <p> - But when I gets a little bigger, all that makes me feel kind o' bad - sometimes. It ain't so handy then. Fur folks gets to saying, when I would - come around: - </p> - <p> - “Danny, what do <i>you</i> want?” - </p> - <p> - And if I says, “Nothing,” they would say: - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, you get out o' here!” - </p> - <p> - Which they needn't of been suspicioning nothing like they pertended they - did, fur I never stole nothing more'n worter millions and mush millions - and such truck, and mebby now and then a chicken us kids use to roast in - the woods on Sundays, and jest as like as not it was one of Hank's hens - then, which I figgered I'd earnt it. - </p> - <p> - Fur Hank, he had streaks when he'd work me considerable hard. He never - give me any money fur it. He loafed a lot too, and when he'd loaf I'd - loaf. But I did pick up right smart of handiness with tools around that - there shop of his'n, and if he'd ever of used me right I might of turned - into a purty fair blacksmith. But it wasn't no use trying to work fur - Hank. When I was about fifteen, times is right bad around the house fur a - spell, and Elmira is working purty hard, and I thinks to myself: - </p> - <p> - “Well, these folks has kind o' brung you up, and you ain't never done - more'n Hank made you do. Mebby you orter stick to work a little more when - they's a job in the shop, even if Hank don't.” - </p> - <p> - Which I tried it fur about two or three years, doing as much work around - the shop as Hank done and mebby more. But it wasn't no use. One day when - I'm about eighteen, I seen awful plain I'll have to light out from there. - They was a circus come to town that day. I says to Hank: - </p> - <p> - “Hank, they is a circus this afternoon and agin to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “So I has hearn,” says Hank. - </p> - <p> - “Are you going to it?” says I. - </p> - <p> - “I mout,” says Hank, “and then agin I moutn't. I don't see as it's no - consarns of yourn, nohow.” I knowed he was going, though. Hank, he never - missed a circus. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “they wasn't no harm to ast, was they?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you've asted, ain't you?” says Hank. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” says I, “I'd like to go to that there circus myself.” - </p> - <p> - “They ain't no use in me saying fur you not to go,” says Hank, “fur you - would go anyhow. You always does go off when you is needed.” - </p> - <p> - “But I ain't got no money,” I says, “and I was going to ast you could you - spare me half a dollar?” - </p> - <p> - “Great Jehosephat!” says Hank, “but ain't you getting stuck up! What's the - matter of you crawling in under the tent like you always done? First thing - I know you'll be wanting a pair of these here yaller shoes and a - stove-pipe hat.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” says I, “I ain't no dude, Hank, and you know it. But they is always - things about a circus to spend money on besides jest the circus herself. - They is the side show, fur instance, and they is the grand concert - afterward. I calkelated I'd take 'em all in this year—the hull dern - thing, jest fur oncet.” - </p> - <p> - Hank, he looks at me like I'd asted fur a house 'n' lot, or a million - dollars, or something like that. But he don't say nothing. He jest snorts. - </p> - <p> - “Hank,” I says, “I been doing right smart work around the shop fur two, - three years now. If you wasn't loafing so much you'd a noticed it more. - And I ain't never ast fur a cent of pay fur it, nor—” - </p> - <p> - “You ain't wuth no pay,” says Hank. “You ain't wuth nothing but to eat - vittles and wear out clothes.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “I figger I earn my vittles and a good 'eal more. And as - fur as clothes goes, I never had none but what Elmira made out'n yourn.” - </p> - <p> - “Who brung you up?” asts Hank. - </p> - <p> - “You done it,” says I, “and by your own say-so you done a dern poor job at - it.” - </p> - <p> - “You go to that there circus,” says Hank, a-flaring up, “and I'll lambaste - you up to a inch of your life. So fur as handing out money fur you to - sling it to the dogs, I ain't no bank, and if I was I ain't no ijut. But - you jest let me hear of you even going nigh that circus lot and all the - lammings you has ever got, rolled into one, won't be a measly little - sarcumstance to what you <i>will</i> get. They ain't no leather-faced - young upstart with weepin'-willow hail going to throw up to me how I brung - him up. That's gratitood fur you, that is!” says Hank. “If it hadn't of - been fur me giving you a home when I found you first, where would you of - been now?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “I might of been a good 'eal better off. If you hadn't of - took me in the Alexanderses would of, and then I wouldn't of been kep' out - of school and growed up a ignoramus like you is.” - </p> - <p> - “I never had no trouble keeping you away from school, I notice,” says - Hank, with a snort. “This is the first I ever hearn of you wanting to go - there.” - </p> - <p> - Which was true in one way, and a lie in another. I hadn't never wanted to - go till lately, but he'd of lammed me if I had of wanted to. He always - said he would. And now I was too big and knowed it. - </p> - <p> - Well, Hank, he never give me no money, so I watches my chancet that - afternoon and slips in under the tent the same as always. And I lays low - under them green benches and wiggled through when I seen a good chancet. - The first person I seen was Hank. Of course he seen me, and he shook his - fist at me in a promising kind of way, and they wasn't no trouble - figgering out what he meant. Fur a while I didn't enjoy that circus to no - extent. Fur I was thinking that if Hank tries to lick me fur it I'll fight - him back this time, which I hadn't never fit him back much yet fur fear - he'd pick up something iron around the shop and jest natcherally lay me - cold with it. - </p> - <p> - I got home before Hank did. It was nigh sundown, and I was waiting in the - door of the shop fur Elmira to holler vittles is ready, and Hank come - along. He didn't waste no time. He steps inside the shop and he takes down - a strap and he says: - </p> - <p> - “You come here and take off your shirt.” - </p> - <p> - But I jest moves away. Hank, he runs in on me, and he swings his strap. I - throwed up my arm, and it cut me acrost the knuckles. I run in on him, and - he dropped the strap and fetched me an openhanded smack plumb on the mouth - that jarred my head back and like to of busted it loose. Then I got right - mad, and I run in on him agin, and this time I got to him, and wrastled - with him. - </p> - <p> - Well, sir, I never was so surprised in all my life before. Fur I hadn't - had holt on him more'n a minute before I seen I'm stronger than Hank is. I - throwed him, and he hit the ground with considerable of a jar, and then I - put my knee in the pit of his stomach and churned it a couple. And I - thinks to myself what a fool I must of been fur better'n a year, because I - might of done this any time. I got him by the ears and I slammed his head - into the gravel a few times, him a-reaching fur my throat, and a-pounding - me with his fists, but me a-taking the licks and keeping holt. And I had a - mighty contented time fur a few minutes there on top of Hank, chuckling to - myself, and batting him one every now and then fur luck, and trying to - make him holler it's enough. But Hank is stubborn and he won't holler. And - purty soon I thinks, what am I going to do? Fur Hank will be so mad when I - let him up he'll jest natcherally kill me, without I kill him. And I was - scared, because I don't want neither one of them things to happen. Whilst - I was thinking it over, and getting scareder and scareder, and banging - Hank's head harder and harder, some one grabs me from behind. - </p> - <p> - They was two of them, and one gets my collar and one gets the seat of my - pants, and they drug me off'n him. Hank, he gets up, and then he sets down - sudden on a horse block and wipes his face on his sleeve, which they was - considerable blood come onto the sleeve. - </p> - <p> - I looks around to see who has had holt of me, and it is two men. One of - them looks about seven feet tall, on account of a big plug hat and a long - white linen duster, and has a beautiful red beard. In the road they is a - big stout road wagon, with a canopy top over it, pulled by two hosses, and - on the wagon box they is a strip of canvas. Which I couldn't read then - what was wrote on the canvas, but I learnt later it said, in big print: - </p> - <p> - SIWASH INDIAN SAGRAW. NATURE'S UNIVERSAL MEDICINAL SPECIFIC. DISCOVERED BY - DR. HARTLEY L. KIRBY AMONG THE ABORIGINES OF OREGON. - </p> - <p> - On account of being so busy, neither Hank nor me had hearn the wagon come - along the road and stop. The big man in the plug hat, he says, or they was - words to that effect, jest as serious: - </p> - <p> - “Why are you mauling the aged gent?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says I, “he needed it considerable.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” says he, still more solemn, “the good book says to honour thy - father and thy mother.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “mebby it does and mebby it don't. But <i>he</i> ain't my - father, nohow. And he ain't been getting no more'n his come-uppings.” - </p> - <p> - “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” the big man remarks, very serious. - Hank, he riz up then, and he says: - </p> - <p> - “Mister, be you a preacher? 'Cause if you be, the sooner you have druv on, - the better fur ye. I got a grudge agin all preachers.” - </p> - <p> - That feller, he jest looks Hank over ca'am and easy and slow before he - answers, and he wrinkles up his face like he never seen anything like Hank - before. Then he fetches a kind o' aggervating smile, and he says: - </p> - <p> - “Beneath a shady chestnut tree The village blacksmith stands. The smith, a - pleasant soul is he With warts upon his hands—” - </p> - <p> - He stares at Hank hard and solemn and serious while he is saying that - poetry at him. Hank fidgets and turns his eyes away. But the feller - touches him on the breast with his finger, and makes him look at him. - </p> - <p> - “My honest friend,” says the feller, “I am <i>not</i> a preacher. Not - right now, anyhow. No! My mission is spreading the glad tidings of good - health. Look at me,” and he swells his chest up, and keeps a-holt of - Hank's eyes with his'n. “You behold before you the discoverer, - manufacturer, and proprietor of Siwash Indian Sagraw, nature's own remedy - for Bright's Disease, rheumatism, liver and kidney trouble, catarrh, - consumption, bronchitis, ring-worm, erysipelas, lung fever, typhoid, - croup, dandruff, stomach trouble, dyspepsia—” And they was a lot - more of 'em. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says Hank, sort o' backing up as the big man come nearer and - nearer to him, jest natcherally bully-ragging him with them eyes, “I got - none of them there complaints.” - </p> - <p> - The doctor he kind o' snarls, and he brings his hand down hard on Hank's - shoulder, and he says: - </p> - <p> - “There are more things betwixt Dan and Beersheba than was ever dreamt of - in thy sagacity, Romeo!” Or they was words to that effect, fur that doctor - was jest plumb full of Scripter quotations. And he sings out sudden, - giving Hank a shove that nearly pushes him over: “Man alive!” he yells, - “you <i>don't know</i> what disease you may have! Many's the strong man - I've seen rejoicing in his strength at the dawn of day cut down like the - grass in the field before sunset,” he says. - </p> - <p> - Hank, he's trying to look the other way, but that doctor won't let his - eyes wiggle away from his'n. He says very sharp: - </p> - <p> - “Stick out your tongue!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0061.jpg" alt="0061 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0061.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Hank, he sticks her out. - </p> - <p> - The doctor, he takes some glasses out'n his pocket and puts 'em on, and he - fetches a long look at her. Then he opens his mouth like he was going to - say something, and shuts it agin like his feelings won't let him. He puts - his arm across Hank's shoulder affectionate and sad, and then he turns his - head away like they was some one dead in the fambly. Finally, he says: - </p> - <p> - “I thought so. I saw it. I saw it in your eyes when I first drove up. I - hope,” he says, very mournful, “I haven't come too late!” - </p> - <p> - Hank, he turns pale. I was getting sorry fur Hank myself. I seen now why I - licked him so easy. Any one could of told from that doctor's actions Hank - was as good as a dead man already. But Hank, he makes a big effort, and he - says: - </p> - <p> - “Shucks! I'm sixty-eight years old, doctor, and I hain't never had a sick - day in my life.” But he was awful uneasy too. - </p> - <p> - The doctor, he says to the feller with him: “Looey, bring me one of the - sample size.” - </p> - <p> - Looey brung it, the doctor never taking his eyes off'n Hank. He handed it - to Hank, and he says: - </p> - <p> - “A whiskey glass full three times a day, my friend, and there is a good - chance for even you. I give it to you, without money and without price.” - </p> - <p> - “But what have I got?” asts Hank. - </p> - <p> - “You have spinal meningitis,” says the doctor, never batting an eye. - </p> - <p> - “Will this here cure me?” says Hank. - </p> - <p> - “It'll cure <i>anything</i>,” says the doctor. - </p> - <p> - Hank he says, “Shucks,” agin, but he took the bottle and pulled the cork - out and smelt it, right thoughtful. And what them fellers had stopped at - our place fur was to have the shoe of the nigh hoss's off hind foot nailed - on, which it was most ready to drop off. Hank, he done it fur a - regulation, dollar-size bottle and they druv on into the village. - </p> - <p> - Right after supper I goes down town. They was in front of Smith's Palace - Hotel. They was jest starting up when I got there. Well, sir, that doctor - was a sight. He didn't have his duster onto him, but his stove-pipe hat - was, and one of them long Prince Alferd coats nearly to his knees, and - shiny shoes, but his vest was cut out holler fur to show his biled shirt, - and it was the pinkest shirt I ever see, and in the middle of that they - was a diamond as big as Uncle Pat Hickey's wen, what was one of the town - sights. No, sir; they never was a man with more genuine fashionableness - sticking out all over him than Doctor Kirby. He jest fairly wallered in - it. - </p> - <p> - I hadn't paid no pertic'ler attention to the other feller with him when - they stopped at our place, excepting to notice he was kind of slim and - blackhaired and funny complected. But I seen now I orter of looked - closeter. Fur I'll be dad-binged if he weren't an Injun! There he set, - under that there gasoline lamp the wagon was all lit up with, with - moccasins on, and beads and shells all over him, and the gaudiest turkey - tail of feathers rainbowing down from his head you ever see, and a blanket - around him that was gaudier than the feathers. And he shined and rattled - every time he moved. - </p> - <p> - That wagon was a hull opry house to itself. It was rolled out in front of - Smith's Palace Hotel without the hosses. The front part was filled with - bottles of medicine. The doctor, he begun business by taking out a long - brass horn and tooting on it. They was about a dozen come, but they was - mostly boys. Then him and the Injun picked up some banjoes and sung a - comic song out loud and clear. And they was another dozen or so come. And - they sung another song, and Pop Wilkins, he closed up the post-office and - come over and the other two veterans of the Grand Army of the Republicans - that always plays checkers in there nights come along with him. But it - wasn't much of a crowd, and the doctor he looked sort o' worried. I had a - good place, right near the hind wheel of the wagon where he rested his - foot occasional, and I seen what he was thinking. So I says to him: - </p> - <p> - “Doctor Kirby, I guess the crowd is all gone to the circus agin to-night.” - And all them fellers there seen I knowed him. - </p> - <p> - “I guess so, Rube,” he says to me. And they all laughed 'cause he called - me Rube, and I felt kind of took down. - </p> - <p> - Then he lit in to tell about that Injun medicine. First off he told how he - come to find out about it. It was the father of the Injun what was with - him had showed him, he said. And it was in the days of his youthfulness, - when he was wild, and a cowboy on the plains of Oregon. Well, one night he - says, they was an awful fight on the plains of Oregon, wherever them is, - and he got plugged full of bullet holes. And his hoss run away with him - and he was carried off, and the hoss was going at a dead run, and the - blood was running down onto the ground. And the wolves smelt the blood and - took out after him, yipping and yowling something frightful to hear, and - the hoss he kicked out behind and killed the head wolf and the others - stopped to eat him up, and while they was eating him the hoss gained a - quarter of a mile. But they et him up and they was gaining agin, fur the - smell of human blood was on the plains of Oregon, he says, and the sight - of his mother's face when she ast him never to be a cowboy come to him in - the moonlight, and he knowed that somehow all would yet be well, and then - he must of fainted and he knowed no more till he woke up in a tent on the - plains of Oregon. And they was an old Injun bending over him and a - beautiful Injun maiden was feeling of his pulse, and they says to him: - </p> - <p> - “Pale face, take hope, fur we will doctor you with Siwash Injun Sagraw, - which is nature's own cure fur all diseases.” - </p> - <p> - They done it. And he got well. It had been a secret among them there - Injuns fur thousands and thousands of years. Any Injun that give away the - secret was killed and rubbed off the rolls of the tribe and buried in - disgrace upon the plains of Oregon. And the doctor was made a blood - brother of the chief, and learnt the secret of that medicine. Finally he - got the chief to see as it wasn't Christian to hold back that there - medicine from the world no longer, and the chief, his heart was softened, - and he says to go. - </p> - <p> - “Go, my brother,” he says, “and give to the pale faces the medicine that - has been kept secret fur thousands and thousands of years among the Siwash - Injuns on the plains of Oregon.” - </p> - <p> - And he went. It wasn't that he wanted to make no money out of that there - medicine. He could of made all the money he wanted being a doctor in the - reg'lar way. But what he wanted was to spread the glad tidings of good - health all over this fair land of ourn, he says. - </p> - <p> - Well, sir, he was a talker, that there doctor was, and he knowed more - religious sayings and poetry along with it, than any feller I ever hearn. - He goes on and he tells how awful sick people can manage to get and never - know it, and no one else never suspicion it, and live along fur years and - years that-a-way, and all the time in danger of death. He says it makes - him weep when he sees them poor diluted fools going around and thinking - they is well men, talking and laughing and marrying and giving in to - marriage right on the edge of the grave. He sees dozens of 'em in every - town he comes to. But they can't fool him, he says. He can tell at a - glance who's got Bright's Disease in their kidneys and who ain't. His own - father, he says, was deathly sick fur years and years and never knowed it, - and the knowledge come on him sudden like, and he died. That was before - Siwash Injun Sagraw was ever found out about. Doctor Kirby broke down and - cried right there in the wagon when he thought of how his father might of - been saved if he was only alive now that that medicine was put up into - bottle form, six fur a five-dollar bill so long as he was in town, and - after that two dollars fur each bottle at the drug store. - </p> - <p> - He unrolled a big chart and the Injun helt it by that there gasoline lamp, - so all could see, turning the pages now and then. It was a map of a man's - inside organs and digestive ornaments and things. They was red and blue, - like each organ's own disease had turned it, and some of 'em was yaller. - And they was a long string of diseases printed in black hanging down from - each organ's picture. I never knowed before they was so many diseases nor - yet so many things to have 'em in. - </p> - <p> - Well, I was feeling purty good when that show started. But the doc, he - kep' looking right at me every now and then when he talked, and I couldn't - keep my eyes off'n him. - </p> - <p> - “Does your heart beat fast when you exercise?” he asts the crowd. “Is your - tongue coated after meals? Do your eyes leak when your nose is stopped up? - Do you perspire under your arm pits? Do you ever have a ringing in your - ears? Does your stomach hurt you after meals? Does your back ever ache? Do - you ever have pains in your legs? Do your eyes blur when you look at the - sun? Are your teeth coated? Does your hair come out when you comb it? Is - your breath short when you walk up stairs? Do your feet swell in warm - weather? Are there white spots on your finger nails? Do you draw your - breath part of the time through one nostril and part of the time through - the other? Do you ever have nightmare? Did your nose bleed easily when you - were growing up? Does your skin fester when scratched? Are your eyes gummy - in the mornings? Then,” he says, “if you have any or all of these - symptoms, your blood is bad, and your liver is wasting away.” - </p> - <p> - Well, sir, I seen I was in a bad way, fur at one time or another I had had - most of them there signs and warnings, and hadn't heeded 'em, and I had - some of 'em yet. I begun to feel kind o' sick, and looking at them organs - and diseases didn't help me none, either. The doctor, he lit out on - another string of symptoms, and I had them, too. Seems to me I had purty - nigh everything but fits. Kidney complaint and consumption both had a holt - on me. It was about a even bet which would get me first. I kind o' got to - wondering which. I figgered from what he said that I'd had consumption the - <i>longest</i> while, but my kind of kidney trouble was an awful SLY kind, - and it was lible to jump in without no warning a-tall and jest natcherally - wipe me out <i>quick</i>. So I sort o' bet on the kidney trouble. But I - seen I was a goner, and I forgive Hank all his orneriness, fur a feller - don't want to die holding grudges. - </p> - <p> - Taking it the hull way through, that was about the best medicine show I - ever seen. But they didn't sell much. All the people what had any money - was to the circus agin that night. So they sung some more songs and closed - early and went into the hotel. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ell, the next - morning I'm feeling considerable better, and think mebby I'm going to live - after all. I got up earlier'n Hank did, and slipped out without him seeing - me, and didn't go nigh the shop a-tall. Fur now I've licked Hank oncet I - figger he won't rest till he has wiped that disgrace out, and he won't - care a dern what he picks up to do it with, nuther. - </p> - <p> - They was a crick about a hundred yards from our house, in the woods, and I - went over there and laid down and watched it run by. I laid awful still, - thinking I wisht I was away from that town. Purty soon a squirrel comes - down and sets on a log and watches me. I throwed an acorn at him, and he - scooted up a tree quicker'n scatt. And then I wisht I hadn't scared him - away, fur it looked like he knowed I was in trouble. Purty soon I takes a - swim, and comes out and lays there some more, spitting into the water and - thinking what shall I do now, and watching birds and things moving around, - and ants working harder'n ever I would agin unless I got better pray fur - it, and these here tumble bugs kicking their loads along hind end to. - </p> - <p> - After a while it is getting along toward noon, and I'm feeling hungry. But - I don't want to have no more trouble with Hank, and I jest lays there. I - hearn two men coming through the underbrush. I riz up on my elbow to look, - and one of them was Doctor Kirby and the other was Looey, only Looey - wasn't an Injun this morning. - </p> - <p> - They sets down on the roots of a big tree a little ways off, with their - backs toward me, and they ain't seen me. So nacherally I listened to what - they was jawing about. They was both kind o' mad at the hull world, and at - our town in pertic'ler, and some at each other, too. The doctor, he says: - </p> - <p> - “I haven't had such rotten luck since I played the bloodhound in a Tom - Show—Were you ever an 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' artist, Looey?—and a - justice of the peace over in Iowa fined me five dollars for being on the - street without a muzzle. Said it was a city ordinance. Talk about the - gentle Rube being an easy mark! If these country towns don't get the - wandering minstrel's money one way they will another!” - </p> - <p> - “It's your own fault,” says Looey, kind o' sour. - </p> - <p> - “I can't see it,” says Doctor Kirby. “How did I know that all these - apple-knockers had been filled up with Sykes's Magic Remedy only two weeks - ago? I may have been a spiritualistic medium in my time now and then,” he - says, “and a mind reader, too, but I'm no prophet.” - </p> - <p> - “I ain't talking about the business, Doc, and you know it,” says Looey. - “We'd be all right and have our horses and wagon now if you'd only stuck - to business and not got us into that poker game. Talk about suckers! Doc, - for a man that has skinned as many of 'em as you have, you're the worst - sucker yourself I ever saw.” - </p> - <p> - The doctor, he cusses the poker game and country towns and medicine shows - and the hull creation and says he is so disgusted with life he guesses - he'll go and be a preacher or a bearded lady in a sideshow. But Looey, he - don't cheer up none. He says: - </p> - <p> - “All right, Doc, but it's no use talking. You can <i>talk</i> all right. - We all know that. The question is how are we going to get our horses and - wagon away from these Rubes?” - </p> - <p> - I listens some more, and I seen them fellers was really into bad trouble. - Doctor Kirby, he had got into a poker game at Smith's Palace Hotel the - night before, right after the show. He had won from Jake Smith, which run - it, and from the others. But shucks! it never made no difference what you - won in that crowd. They had done Doctor Kirby and Looey like they always - done a drummer or a stranger that come along to that town and was fool - enough to play poker with them. They wasn't a chancet fur an outsider. If - the drummer lost, they would take his money and that would be all they was - to it. But if the drummer got to winning good, some one would slip out'n - the hotel and tell Si Emery, which was the city marshal. And Si would get - Ralph Scott, that worked fur Jake Smith in his livery stable, and pin a - star onto Ralph, too. And they would be arrested fur gambling, only them - that lived in our town would get away. Which Si and Ralph was always - scared every time they done it. Then the drummer, or whoever it was, would - be took to the calaboose, and spend all night there. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0077.jpg" alt="0077 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0077.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - In the morning they would be took before Squire Matthews, that was justice - of the peace. They would be fined a big fine, and he would get all the - drummer had won and all he had brung to town with him besides. Squire - Matthews and Jake Smith and Windy Goodell and Mart Watson, which the two - last was lawyers, was always playing that there game on drummers that was - fool enough to play poker. Hank, he says he bet they divided it up - afterward, though it was supposed them fines went to the town. Well, they - played a purty closte game of poker in our little town. It was jest like - the doctor says to Looey: - </p> - <p> - “By George,” he says, “it is a well-nigh perfect thing. If you lose you - lose, and if you win you lose.” - </p> - <p> - Well, the doctor, he had started out winning the night before. And Si - Emery and Ralph Scott had arrested them. And that morning, while I had - been laying by the crick and the rest of the town was seeing the fun, they - had been took afore Squire Matthews and fined one hundred and twenty-five - dollars apiece. The doctor, he tells Squire Matthews it is an outrage, and - it ain't legal if tried in a bigger court, and they ain't that much money - in the world so fur as he knows, and he won't pay it. But, the squire, he - says the time has come to teach them travelling fakirs as is always - running around the country with shows and electric belts and things that - they got to stop dreening that town of hard-earned money, and he has - decided to make an example of 'em. The only two lawyers in town is Windy - and Mart, which has been in the poker game theirselves, the same as - always. The doctor says the hull thing is a put-up job, and he can't get - the money, and he wouldn't if he could, and he'll lay in that town - calaboose and rot the rest of his life and eat the town poor before he'll - stand it. And the squire says he'll jest take their hosses and wagon fur - c'latteral till they make up the rest of the two hundred and fifty - dollars. And the hosses and wagon was now in the livery stable next to - Smith's Palace Hotel, which Jake run that too. - </p> - <p> - Well, I thinks to myself, it <i>is</i> a dern shame, and I felt sorry fur - them two fellers. Fur our town was jest as good as stealing that property. - And I felt kind o' shamed of belonging to such a town, too. And I thinks - to myself, I'd like to help 'em out of that scrape. And then I seen how I - could do it, and not get took up fur it, neither. So, without thinking, - all of a sudden I jumps up and says: - </p> - <p> - “Say, Doctor Kirby, I got a scheme!” - </p> - <p> - They jumps up too, and they looks at me startled. Then the doctor kind o' - laughs and says: - </p> - <p> - “Why, it's the young blacksmith!” - </p> - <p> - Looey, he says, looking at me hard and suspicious: - </p> - <p> - “What kind of a scheme are you talking about?” - </p> - <p> - “Why,” says I, “to get that outfit of yourn.” - </p> - <p> - “You've been listening to us,” says Looey. Looey was one of them - quiet-looking fellers that never laughed much nor talked much. Looey, he - never made fun of nobody, which the doctor was always doing, and I - wouldn't of cared to make fun of Looey much, either. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I says, “I been laying here fur quite a spell, and quite natcheral - I listened to you, as any one else would of done. And mebby I can get that - team and wagon of yourn without it costing you a cent.” - </p> - <p> - Well, they didn't know what to say. They asts me how, but I says to leave - it all to me. “Walk right along down this here crick,” I says, “till you - get to where it comes out'n the woods and runs acrost the road in under an - iron bridge. That's about a half a mile east. Jest after the road crosses - the bridge it forks. Take the right fork and walk another half a mile and - you'll see a little yaller-painted schoolhouse setting lonesome on a sand - hill. They ain't no school in it now. You wait there fur me,” I says, “fur - a couple of hours. After that if I ain't there you'll know I can't make - it. But I think I'll make it.” - </p> - <p> - They looks at each other and they looks at me, and then they go off a - little piece and talk low, and then the doctor says to me: - </p> - <p> - “Rube,” he says, “I don't know how you can work anything on us that hasn't - been worked already. We've got nothing more we can lose. You go to it, - Rube.” And they started off. - </p> - <p> - So I went over town. Jake Smith was setting on the piazza in front of his - hotel, chawing and spitting tobacco, with his feet agin the railing like - he always done, and one of his eyes squinched up and his hat over the - other one. - </p> - <p> - “Jake,” I says, “where's that there doctor?” - </p> - <p> - Jake, he spit careful afore he answered, and he pulled his long, scraggly - moustache careful, and he squinched his eyes at me. Jake was a careful man - in everything he done. - </p> - <p> - “I dunno, Danny,” he says. “Why?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “Hank sent me over to get that wagon and them hosses of - theirn and finish that job.” - </p> - <p> - “That there wagon,” says Jake, “is in my barn, with Si Emery watching her, - and she has got to stay there till the law lets her loose.” I figgered to - myself Jake could use that team and wagon in his business, and was going - to buy her cheap offn the town, what share of her he didn't figger he - owned already. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Jake,” I says, “I hope they ain't been no trouble of no kind that - has drug the law into your barn!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Danny,” he says, “they <i>has</i> been a little trouble. But it's - about over, now, I guess. And that there outfit belongs to the town now.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't say so!” says I, surprised-like. “When I seen them men last - night it looked to me like they was too fine dressed to be honest.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't think they be, Danny,” says Jake, confidential. “In my opinion - they is mighty bad customers. But they has got on the wrong side of the - law now, and I guess they won't stay around here much longer.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says I, “Hank will be glad.” - </p> - <p> - “Fur what?” asts Jake. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says I, “because he got his pay in advance fur that job and now he - don't have to finish it. They come along to our place about sundown - yesterday, and we nailed a shoe on one hoss. They was a couple of other - hoofs needed fixing, and the tire on one of the hind wheels was beginning - to rattle loose.” - </p> - <p> - I had noticed that loose tire when I was standing by the hind wheel the - night before, and it come in handy now. So I goes on: - </p> - <p> - “Hank, he allowed he'd fix the hull thing fur six bottles of that Injun - medicine. Elmira has been ailing lately, and he wanted it fur her. So they - handed Hank out six bottles then and there.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh!” says Jake. “So the job is all paid fur, is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says I, “and I was expecting to do it myself. But now I guess I'll - go fishing instead. They ain't no other job in the shop.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll be dinged if you've got time to fish,” says Jake. “I'm expecting - mebby to buy that rig off the town myself when the law lets loose of it. - So if the fixing is paid fur, I want everything fixed.” - </p> - <p> - “Jake,” says I, kind of worried like, “I don't want to do it without that - doctor says to go ahead.” - </p> - <p> - “They ain't his'n no longer,” says Jake. - </p> - <p> - “I dunno,” says I, “as you got any right to make me do it, Jake. It don't - look to me like it's no harm to beat a couple of fellers like them out of - their medicine. And I <i>did</i> want to go fishing this afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - But Jake was that careful and stingy he'd try to skin a hoss twicet if it - died. He's bound to get that job done, now. - </p> - <p> - “Danny,” he says, “you gotto do that work. It ain't <i>honest</i> not to. - What a young feller like you jest starting out into life wants to remember - is to always be honest. Then,” says Jake, squinching up his eyes, “people - trusts you and you get a good chancet to make money. Look at this here - hotel and livery stable, Danny. Twenty years ago I didn't have no more'n - you've got, Danny. But I always went by them mottoes—hard work and - being honest. You <i>gotto</i> nail them shoes on, Danny, and fix that - wheel.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, all right, Jake,” says I, “if you feel that way about it. Jest give - me a chaw of tobacco and come around and help me hitch 'em up.” - </p> - <p> - Si Emery was there asleep on a pile of straw guarding that property. But - Ralph Scott wasn't around. Si didn't wake up till we had hitched 'em up. - He says he will ride around to the shop with me. But Jake says: - </p> - <p> - “It's all right, Si. I'll go over myself and fetch 'em back purty soon.” - Which Si was wore out with being up so late the night before, and goes - back to sleep agin right off. - </p> - <p> - Well, sir, they wasn't nothing went wrong. I drove slow through the - village and past our shop. Hank come to the door of it as I went past. But - I hit them hosses a lick, and they broke into a right smart trot. Elmira, - she come onto the porch and I waved my hand at her. She put her hand up to - her forehead to shut out the sun and jest stared. She didn't know I was - waving her farewell. Hank, he yelled something at me, but I never hearn - what. I licked them hosses into a gallop and went around the turn of the - road. And that's the last I ever seen or hearn of Hank or Elmira or that - there little town. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> slowed down when - I got to the schoolhouse, and both them fellers piled in. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I better turn north fur about a mile and then turn west, Doctor - Kirby,” I says, “so as to make a kind of a circle around that town.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, so, Rube?” he asts me. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “we left it going east, and they'll foller us east; so - don't we want to be going west while they're follering east?” - </p> - <p> - Looey, he agreed with me. But he said it wouldn't be much use, fur we - would likely be ketched up with and took back and hung or something, - anyhow. Looey could get the lowest in his sperrits sometimes of any man I - ever seen. - </p> - <p> - “Don't be afraid of that,” says the doctor. “They are not going to follow - us. <i>They</i> know they didn't get this property by due process of law. - <i>They</i> aren't going to take the case into a county court where it - will all come out about the way they robbed a couple of travelling men - with a fake trial.” - </p> - <p> - “I guess you know more about the law'n I do,” I says. “I kind o' thought - mebby we stole them hosses.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he says, “we got 'em, anyhow. And if they try to arrest us without - a warrant there'll be the deuce to pay. But they aren't going to make any - more trouble. I know these country crooks. They've got no stomach for - trouble outside their own township.” - </p> - <p> - Which made me feel considerable better, fur I never been of the opinion - that going agin the law done any one no good. - </p> - <p> - They looks around in that wagon, and all their stuff was there—Jake - Smith and the squire having kep' it all together careful to make things - seem more legal, I suppose—and the doctor was plumb tickled, and - Looey felt as cheerful as he ever felt about anything. So the doctor says - they has everything they needs but some ready money, and he'll get that - sure, fur he never seen the time he couldn't. - </p> - <p> - “But, Looey,” he says, “I'm done with country hotels from now on. They've - got the last cent they ever will from me—at least in the summer - time.” - </p> - <p> - “How you going to work it?” Looey asts him, like he hasn't no hopes it - will work right. - </p> - <p> - “Camp out,” says the doctor. “I've been thinking it all over.” Then he - turns to me. “Rube,” he says, “where are you going?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “I ain't pinted nowhere in pertic'ler except away from - that town we just left. Which my name ain't Rube, Doctor Kirby, but - Danny.” - </p> - <p> - “Danny what?” asts he. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” says I, “jest Danny.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, Danny,” says he, “how would you like to be an Indian?” - </p> - <p> - “Medical?” asts I, “or real?” - </p> - <p> - “Like Looey,” says he. - </p> - <p> - I tells him being a medical Injun and mixed up with a show like his'n - would suit me down to the ground, and asts him what is the main duties of - one besides the blankets and the feathers. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he says, “this camping-out scheme of mine will take a couple of - Indians. Instead of paying hotel and feed bills we'll pitch our tent,” he - says, “at the edge of town in each sweet Auburn of the plains. We'll save - money and we'll be near the throbbing heart of nature. And an Indian camp - in each place will be a good advertisement for the Sagraw. You can look - after the horses and learn to do the cooking and that kind o' thing. And - maybe after while,” he says, kind o' working himself up to where he - thought it was going to be real nice, “maybe after while I will give you - some insight into the hidden mysteries of selling Siwash Indian Sagraw.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says I, “I'd like to learn that.” - </p> - <p> - “Would you?” says he, kind o' laughing at himself and me too, and yet kind - o' enthusiastic, “well, then, the first thing you have to do is learn how - to sell corn salve. Any one that can sell corn salve can sell anything. - There's a farmhouse right over there, and I'll give you your first lesson - right now. Rummage around in that satchel there under the seat and get me - a tin box and some corn salve labels.” - </p> - <p> - I found a lot of labels, and some boxes too. The labels was all different - sizes, but barring that they all looked about the same to me. Whilst I was - sizing them up he asts me agin was they any corn salve ones in there. - </p> - <p> - “What colour label is it, Doctor Kirby?” I asts him. Fur they was blue - labels and white labels and pink labels. - </p> - <p> - He looks at me right queer. “Can't you read the labels?” he says, right - sharp. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “I never been much of a reader when it comes to different - kind of medicines.” - </p> - <p> - “Corn salve is spelled only one way,” says he. - </p> - <p> - “That's right,” I says, “and you'd think I orter be able to pick out a - common, ordinary thing like corn salve right off, wouldn't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Danny,” he says, “you don't mean to tell me you can't read anything at - all?” - </p> - <p> - “I never told you nothing of the kind.” - </p> - <p> - He picks out a label. - </p> - <p> - “If you can read so fast, what's that?” he asts. - </p> - <p> - She is a pink one. I thinks to myself; she either is corn salve or else - she ain't corn salve. And it ain't natcheral he will pick corn salve, fur - he would think I would say that first off. So I'm betting it ain't. I - takes a chancet on it. - </p> - <p> - “That,” says I, “is mighty easy reading. That is Siwash Injun Sagraw.” I - lost. - </p> - <p> - “It's corn salve,” he says. “And Great Scott! They call this the twentieth - century!” - </p> - <p> - “I never called it that,” says I, sort o' mad-like. Fur I was feeling bad - Doctor Kirby had found out I was such a ignoramus. - </p> - <p> - “Where ignorance is bliss,” says he, “it is folly to be wise. But all the - same, I'm going to take your education in hand and make you drink of - life's Peruvian springs.” Or some spring like that it was. - </p> - <p> - And the doctor, he done it. Looey said it wouldn't be no use learning to - read. He'd done a lot of reading, he said, and it never helped him none. - All he ever read showed him this feller Hamlet was right, he said, when he - wrote Shakespeare's works, and they wasn't much use in anything, without - you had a lot o' money. And they wasn't no chancet to get that with all - these here trusts around gobbling up everything and stomping the poor man - into the dirt, and they was lots of times he wisht he was a Injun sure - enough, and not jest a medical one, fur then he'd be a free man and the - bosses and the trusts and the railroads and the robber tariff couldn't - touch him. And then he shut up, and didn't say nothing fur a hull hour, - except oncet he laughed. - </p> - <p> - Fur Doctor Kirby, he says, winking at me: “Looey, here, is a nihilist.” - </p> - <p> - “Is he,” says I, “what's that?” And the doctor tells me about how they - blow up dukes and czars and them foreign high-mucky-mucks with dynamite. - Which is when Looey laughed. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0091.jpg" alt="0091 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0091.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Well, we jogged along at a pretty good gait fur several hours, and we - stayed that night at a Swede's place, which the doctor paid him fur - everything in medicine, only it took a long time to make the bargain, fur - them Swedes is always careful not to get cheated, and hasn't many - diseases. And the next night we showed in a little town, and done right - well, and took in considerable money. We stayed there three days and - bought a tent and a sheet-iron stove and some skillets and things and some - provisions, and a suit of duds for me. - </p> - <p> - Well, we went on, and we kept going on, and they was bully times. We'd - ease up careful toward a town, and pick us out a place on the edge, where - the hosses could graze along the side of the road; and most ginerally by a - piece of woods not fur from that town, and nigh a crick, if we could. Then - we'd set up our tent. After we had everything fixed, I'd put on my Injun - clothes and Looey his'n, and we'd drive through the main store street of - the town at a purty good lick, me a-holt of the reins, and the doctor all - togged out in his best clothes, and Looey doing a Injun dance in the midst - of the wagon. I'd pull up the hosses sudden in front of the post-office or - the depot platform or the hotel, and the people would come crowding - around, and the doctor he'd make a little talk from the wagon, and tell - everybody they would be a free show that night on that corner, and fur - everybody to come to it. And then we'd drive back to camp, lickitysplit. - </p> - <p> - Purty soon every boy in town would be out there, kind o' hanging around, - to see what a Injun camp was like. And the farmers that went into and out - of town always stopped and passed the time of day, and the Injun camp got - the hull town all worked up as a usual thing; and the doctor, he done - well, fur when night come every one would be on hand. Looey and me, every - time we went into town, had on our Injun suits, and the doctor, he - wondered why he hadn't never thought up that scheme before. Sometimes, - when they was lots of people ailing in a town, and they hadn't been no - show fur quite a while, we'd stay five or six days, and make a good - clean-up. The doctor, he sent to Chicago several times fur alcohol in - barrels, 'cause he was selling it so fast he had to make new Sagraw. And - he had to get more and more bottles, and a hull satchel full of new Sagraw - labels printed. - </p> - <p> - And all the time the doctor was learning me education. And shucks! they - wasn't nothing so hard about it oncet you'd got started in to reading - things. I jest natcherally took to print like a duck to water, and inside - of a month I was reading nigh everything that has ever been wrote. He had - lots of books with him and every time a new sockdologer of a word come - along and I learnt how to spell her and where she orter fit in to make - sense it kind o' tickled me all over. And many's the time afterward, when - me and the doctor had lost track of each other, and they was quite a spell - people got to thinking I was a tramp, I've went into these here Andrew - Carnegie libraries in different towns jest as much to see if they had - anything fitten to read as fur to keep warm. - </p> - <p> - Well, we went easing over toward the Indiany line, and we was having a - purty good time. They wasn't no work to do you could call really hard, and - they was plenty of vittles. Afternoons we'd lazy around the camp and swap - stories and make medicine if we needed a batch, and josh back and forth - with the people that hung around, and loaf and doze and smoke; or mebby do - a little fishing if we was nigh a crick. - </p> - <p> - And nights after the show was over it was fun, too. We always had a fire, - even if it was a hot night, fur to cook by in the first place, and fur to - keep mosquitoes off, and to make things seem more cheerful. They ain't - nothing so good as hanging round a campfire. And they ain't nothing any - better than sleeping outdoors, neither. You roll up in your blanket with - your feet to the fire and you get to wondering things about things afore - you go to sleep. The silentness jest natcherally swamps everything after a - while, and then all them queer little noises you never hear in the daytime - comes popping and poking through the silentness, or kind o' scratching - their way through it sometimes, and makes it kind o' feel more silent than - ever. And if you are nigh a crick, purty soon it will sort of get to - talking to you, only you can't make out what it's trying to say, and you - get to wondering about that, too. And if you are in a tent and it rains - and the tent don't leak, that rain is a kind of a nice thing to listen to - itself. But if you can see the stars you get to wondering more'n ever. - They come out and they is so many of them and they are so fur away, and - yet they are so kind o' friendly-like, too, if you happen to be feeling - purty good. But if you ain't feeling purty good, jest lay there and look - at them stars long enough; and then mebby you'll see it don't make no - difference whether you're feeling good or not, fur they got a way o' - making your private troubles look mighty small. And you get to wondering - why that is, too, fur they ain't human; and it don't stand to reason you - orter pay no attention to them, one way nor the other. They is jest there, - like trees and cricks and hills. But I have often noticed that the things - that is jest there has got a way of seeming more friendly than the things - that has been built and put there. You can look at a big iron bridge or a - grain elevator or a canal all day long, and if you're feeling blue it - don't help you none. It was jest put there. Or a hay stack is the same - way. But you go and lazy around in the grass when you're down on your luck - and kind o' make remarks to a crick or a big, old walnut tree, and before - long it gets you to feeling like it didn't make no difference how you - felt, anyhow; fur you don't amount to nothing by the side of something - that was always there. You get to thinking how the hull world itself was - always here, and you sort o' see they ain't nothing important enough about - yourself to worry about, and presently you will go to sleep and forget it. - The doctor says to me one time them stars ain't any different from this - world, and this is one of them. Which is a fool idea, as any one can see. - He had a lot of queer ideas like that, Doctor Kirby had. But they ain't - nothing like sleeping out of doors nights to make you wonder the kind of - wonderings you never will get any answer to. - </p> - <p> - Well, I never cared so much fur houses after them days. They was bully - times, them was. And I was kind of proud of being with a show, too. Many's - the time I have went down the street in that there Injun suit, and seen - how the young fellers would of give all they owned to be me. And every now - and then you would hear one say when you went past: - </p> - <p> - “Huh, I know him! That's one of them show fellers!” - </p> - <p> - One afternoon we pitches our tent right on the edge of a little town - called Athens. We was nigh the bank of a crick, and they was a grove - there. We was camped jest outside of a wood-lot fence, and back in through - the trees from us they was a house with a hedge fence all around it. They - was apple trees and all kind of flower bushes and things inside of the - hedge. The second day we was there I takes a walk back through the - wood-lot, and along past the house, and they was one of these here early - harvest apple trees spilling apples through a gap in the fence. Them is a - mighty sweet and juicy kind of apple, and I picks one up and bites into - it. - </p> - <p> - “I think you might have asked for it,” says some one. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> looks up, and - that was how I got acquainted with Martha. She was eating one herself, - setting up in the tree like a boy. In her lap was a book she had been - reading. She was leaning back into the fork two limbs made so as not to - tumble. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “can I have one?” - </p> - <p> - “You've eaten it already,” she says, “so there isn't any use begging for - it now.” - </p> - <p> - I seen she was a tease, that girl, and I would of give anything to of been - able to tease her right back agin. But I couldn't think of nothing to say, - so I jest stands there kind o' dumb like, thinking what a dern purty girl - she was, and thinking how dumb I must look, and I felt my face getting - red. Doctor Kirby would of thought of something to say right off. And - after I got back to camp I would think of something myself. But I couldn't - think of nothing bright, so I says: - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, you give me another one!” - </p> - <p> - She gives the core of the one she has been eating a toss at me. But I - ketched it, and made like I was going to throw it back at her real hard. - She slung up her arm, and dodged back, and she dropped her book. - </p> - <p> - I thinks to myself I'll learn that girl to get sassy and make me feel like - a dumb-head, even if she is purty. So I don't say a word. I jest picks up - that book and sticks it under my arm and walks away slow with it to where - they was a stump a little ways off, not fur from the crick, and sets down - with my back to her and opens it. And I was trying all the time to think - of something smart to say to her. But I couldn't of done it if I was to be - shot. Still, I thinks to myself, no girl can sass me and not get sassed - back, neither. - </p> - <p> - I hearn a scramble behind me which I knowed was her getting out of that - tree. And in a minute she was in front of me, mad. - </p> - <p> - “Give me my book,” she says. - </p> - <p> - But I only reads the name of the book out loud, fur to aggervate her. I - had on purty good duds, but I kind of wisht I had on my Injun rig then. - You take the girls that always comes down to see the passenger train come - into the depot in them country towns and that Injun rig of mine and - Looey's always made 'em turn around and look at us agin. I never wisht I - had on them Injun duds so hard before in my life. But I couldn't think of - nothing bright to say, so I jest reads the name of that book over to - myself agin, kind o' grinning like I got a good joke I ain't going to tell - any one. - </p> - <p> - “You give me my book,” she says agin, red as one of them harvest apples, - “or I'll tell Miss Hampton you stole it and she'll have you and your show - arrested.” - </p> - <p> - I reads the name agin. It was “The Lost Heir.” I seen I had her good and - teased now, so I says: “It must be one of these here love stories by the - way you take on over it.” - </p> - <p> - “It's not,” she says, getting ready to cry. “And what right have you got - in our wood-lot, anyhow?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “I was jest about to move on and climb out of it when you - hollered to me from that tree.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't!” she says. But she was mad because she knowed she <i>had</i> - spoke to me first, and she was awful sorry she had. - </p> - <p> - “I thought I hearn you holler,” I says, “but I guess it must of been a - squirrel.” I said it kind o' sarcastic like, fur I was still mad with - myself fur being so dumb when we first seen each other. I hadn't no idea - it would hurt her feelings as hard as it did. But all of a sudden she - begins to wink, and her chin trembled, and she turned around short, and - started to walk off slow. She was mad with herself fur being ketched in a - lie, and she was wondering what I would think of her fur being so bold as - to of spoke first to a feller she didn't know. - </p> - <p> - I got up and follered her a little piece. And it come to me all to oncet I - had teased her too hard, and I was down on myself fur it. - </p> - <p> - “Say,” I says, kind of tagging along beside of her, “here's your old - book.” - </p> - <p> - But she didn't make no move to take it, and her hands was over her face, - and she wouldn't pull 'em down to even look at it. - </p> - <p> - So I tried agin. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, feeling real mean, “I wisht you wouldn't cry. I didn't go - to make you do that.” - </p> - <p> - She drops her hands and whirls around on me, mad as a wet hen right off. - </p> - <p> - “I'm not! I'm not!” she sings out, and stamps her feet. “I'm not crying!” - But jest then she loses her holt on herself and busts out and jest - natcherally bellers. “I hate you!” she says, like she could of killed me. - </p> - <p> - That made me kind of dumb agin. Fur it come to me all to oncet I liked - that girl awful well. And here I'd up and made her hate me. I held the - book out to her agin and says: - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm mighty sorry fur that, fur I don't feel that-a-way about you - a-tall. Here's your book.” - </p> - <p> - Well, sir, she snatches that book and she gives it a sling. I thought it - was going kersplash into the crick. But it didn't. It hit right into the - fork of a limb that hung down over the crick, and it all spread out when - it lit, and stuck in that crotch somehow. She couldn't of slung it that - way on purpose in a million years. We both stands and looks at it a - minute. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, oh!” she says, “what have I done? It's out of the town library and - I'll have to pay for it.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll get it fur you,” I says. But it wasn't no easy job. If I shook that - limb it would tumble into the crick. But I clumb the tree and eased out on - that limb as fur as I dast to. And, of course, jest as I got holt of the - book, that limb broke and I fell into the crick. But I had the book. It - was some soaked, but I reckoned it could still be read. - </p> - <p> - I clumb out and she was jest splitting herself laughing at me. The wet on - her face where she had cried wasn't dried up yet, and she was laughing - right through it, kind o' like the sun does to one of these here May - rainstorms sometimes, and she was the purtiest girl I ever seen. Gosh!—how - I was getting to like that girl! And she told me I looked like a drowned - rat. - </p> - <p> - Well, that was how Martha and me was interduced. She wasn't more'n - sixteen, and when she found out I was a orphan she was glad, fur she was - one herself. Which Miss Hampton that lived in that house had took her to - raise. And when I tells her how I been travelling around the country all - summer she claps her hands and she says: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you are on a quest! How romantic!” - </p> - <p> - I asts her what is a quest. And she tells me. She knowed all about them, - fur Martha was considerable of a reader. Some of them was longer and some - of them was shorter, them quests, but mostly, Martha says, they was fur a - twelvemonth and a day. And then you are released from your vow and one of - these here queens gives you a whack over the shoulder with a sword and - says: “Arise, Sir Marmeluke, I dub you a night.” And then it is legal fur - you to go out and rescue people and reform them and spear them if they - don't see things your way, and come between husband and wife when they - row, and do a heap of good in the world. Well, they was other kind of - quests too, but mostly you married somebody, or was dubbed a night, or - found the party you was looking fur, in the end. And Martha had it all - fixed up in her own mind I was in a quest to find my father. Fur, says - she, he is purty certain to be a powerful rich man and more'n likely a - earl. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0105.jpg" alt="0105 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0105.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The way I was found, Martha says, kind o' pints to the idea they was a - earl mixed up in it somewhere. She had read a lot about earls, and knew - their ways. Mebby my mother was a earl's daughter. Earl's daughters is the - worst fur leaving you out in baskets, going by what Martha said. It is a - kind of a habit with them, fur they is awful proud people. But it was a - lucky way to start life, from all she said, that basket way. There was - Moses was left out that way, and when he growed up he was made a kind of a - president of the hull human race, the same as Ruzevelt, and figgered out - the twelve commandments. Martha would of give anything if she could of - only been found in a basket like me, I could see that. But she wasn't. She - had jest been left a orphan when her folks died. They wasn't even no hopes - she had been changed at birth fur another one. But I seen down in under - everything Martha kind o' thought mebby one of them nights might come - a-prancing along and wed her in spite of herself, or she would be carried - off, or something. She was a very romanceful kind of girl. - </p> - <p> - When I seen she had it figgered out I was in a quest fur some - high-mucky-muck fur a dad, I didn't tell her no different. I didn't take - much stock in them earls and nights myself. So fur as I could see they was - all furriners of one kind or another. But that thing of being into a quest - kind of interested me, too. - </p> - <p> - “How would I know him if I was to run acrost him?” I asts her. - </p> - <p> - “You would feel an Intangible Something,” she says, “drawing you toward - him.” - </p> - <p> - I asts her what kind of a something. I make out from what she says it is - some like these fellers that can find water with a piece of witch hazel - switch. You take a switch of it between your thumbs and point it up. Then - you shut your eyes and walk backwards. When you get over where the water - is the witch hazel stick twists around and points to the ground. You dig - there and you get a good well. Nobody knows jest why that stick is drawed - to the ground. It is like one of these little whirlygig compasses is - drawed to the north. It is the same, Martha says, if you is on a quest fur - a father or a mother, only you have got to be worthy of that there quest, - she says. The first time you meet the right one you are drawed jest like - the witch hazel. That is the Intangible Something working on you, she - says. Martha had learnt a lot about that. The book that had fell in the - crick was like that. She lent it to me. - </p> - <p> - Well, that all sounded kind of reasonable to me. I seen that witch hazel - work myself. Old Blindy Wolfe, whose eyes had been dead fur so many years - they had turned plumb white, had that gift, and picked out all the places - fur wells that was dug in our neighbourhood at home. And I makes up my - mind I will watch out fur that feeling of being drawed wherever I goes - after this. You can't tell what will come of them kind of things. So purty - soon Martha has to milk the cow, and I goes along back to camp thinking - about that quest and about what a purty girl she is, which we had set - there talking so long it was nigh sundown and my clothes had dried onto - me. - </p> - <p> - When I got over to camp I seen they must be something wrong. Looey was - setting in the grass under the wagon looking kind of sour and kind of - worried and watching the doctor. The doctor was jest inside the tent, and - he was looking queer too, and not cheerful, which he was usually. - </p> - <p> - The doctor looks at me like he don't skeercly know me. Which he don't. He - has one of them quiet kind of drunks on. Which Looey explains is bound to - come every so often. He don't do nothing mean, but jest gets low-sperrited - and won't talk to no one. Then all of a sudden he will go down town and - walk up and down the main streets, orderly, but looking hard into people's - faces, mostly women's faces. Oncet, Looey says, they was big trouble over - it. They was in a store in a good-sized town, and he took hold of a - woman's chin, and tilted her face back, and looked at her hard, and most - scared her to death, and they was nearly being a riot there. And he was - jailed and had to pay a big fine. Since then Looey always follers him - around when he is that-a-way. - </p> - <p> - Well, that night Doctor Kirby is too fur gone fur us to have our show. He - jest sets and stares and stares at the fire, and his eyes looks like they - is another fire inside of his head, and he is hurting outside and in. - Looey and me watches him from the shadders fur a long time before we turns - in, and the last thing I seen before I went to sleep was him setting there - with his face in his hands, staring, and his lips moving now and then like - he was talking to himself. - </p> - <p> - The next day he is asleep all morning. But that day he don't drink any - more, and Looey says mebby it ain't going to be one of the reg'lar - pifflicated kind. I seen Martha agin that day, too—twicet I has - talks with her. I told her about the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “Is he into a quest, do you think?” I asts her. - </p> - <p> - She says she thinks it is remorse fur some crime he has done. But I - couldn't figger Doctor Kirby would of done none. So that night after the - show I says to him, innocent-like: - </p> - <p> - “Doctor Kirby, what is a quest?” He looks at me kind of queer. - </p> - <p> - “Wherefore,” says he, “this sudden thirst for enlightenment?” - </p> - <p> - “I jest run acrost the word accidental-like,” I told him. - </p> - <p> - He looks at me awful hard, his eyes jest natcherally digging into me. I - felt like he knowed I had set out to pump him. I wisht I hadn't tried it. - Then he tells me a quest is a hunt. And I'm glad that's over with. But it - ain't. Fur purty soon he says: - </p> - <p> - “Danny, did you ever hear of Lady Clara Vere de Vere?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” I says, “who is she?” - </p> - <p> - “A lady friend of Lord Tennyson's,” he says, “whose manners were above - reproach.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “she sounds kind of like a medicine to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Lady Clara,” he says, “and all the other Vere de Veres, were people with - manners we should try to imitate. If Lady Clara had been here last night - when I was talking to myself, Danny, her manners wouldn't have let her - listen to what I was talking about.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't listen!” I says. Fur I seen what he was driving at now with them - Vere de Veres. He thought I had ast him what a quest was because he was on - one. I was certain of that, now. He wasn't quite sure what he had been - talking about, and he wanted to see how much I had hearn. I thinks to - myself it must be a awful funny kind of hunt he is on, if he only hunts - when he is in that fix. But I acted real innocent and like my feelings was - hurt, and he believed me. Purty soon he says, cheerful like: - </p> - <p> - “There was a girl talking to you to-day, Danny.” - </p> - <p> - “Mebby they was,” I says, “and mebby they wasn't.” But I felt my face - getting red all the same, and was mad because it did. He grinned kind of - aggervating at me and says some poetry at me about in the spring a young - man's frenzy likely turns to thoughts of love. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, kind of sheepish-like, “this is summer-time, and purty - nigh autumn.” Then I seen I'd jest as good as owned up I liked Martha, and - was kind of mad at myself fur that. But I told him some more about her, - too. Somehow I jest couldn't help it. He laughs at me and goes on into the - tent. - </p> - <p> - I laid there and looked at the fire fur quite a spell, outside the tent. I - was thinking, if all them tales wasn't jest dern foolishness, how I wisht - I would really find a dad that was a high-muckymuck and could come back in - an automobile and take her away. I laid there fur a long, long time; it - must of been fur a couple of hours. I supposed the doctor had went to - sleep. - </p> - <p> - But all of a sudden I looks up, and he is in the door of the tent staring - at me. I seen he had been in there at it hard agin, and thinking, - quiet-like, all this time. He stood there in the doorway of the tent, with - the firelight onto his face and his red beard, and his arms stretched out, - holding to the canvas and looking at me strange and wild. Then he moved - his hand up and down at me, and he says: - </p> - <p> - “If she's fool enough to love you, treat her well—treat her well. - For if you don't, you can never run away from the hell you'll carry in - your own heart.” - </p> - <p> - And he kind of doubled up and pitched forward when he said that, and if I - hadn't ketched him he would of fell right acrost the fire. He was plumb - pifflicated. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>artha wouldn't of - took anything fur being around Miss Hampton, she said. Miss Hampton was - kind of quiet and sweet and pale looking, and nobody ever thought of - talking loud or raising any fuss when she was around. She had enough money - of her own to run herself on, and she kep' to herself a good deal. She had - come to that town from no one knowed where, years ago, and bought that - place. Fur all of her being so gentle and easy and talking with one of - them soft, drawly kind of voices, Martha says, no one had ever dared to - ast her about herself, though they was a lot of women in that town that - was wishful to. - </p> - <p> - But Martha said she knowed what Miss Hampton's secret was, and she hadn't - told no one, neither. Which she told me, and all the promising I done - about not telling would of made the cold chills run up your back, it was - so solemn. Miss Hampton had been jilted years ago, Martha said, and the - name of the jilter was David Armstrong. Well, he must of been a low down - sort of man. Martha said if things was only fixed in this country like - they ought to be, she would of sent a night to find that David Armstrong. - And that would of ended up in a mortal combat, and the night would have - cleaved him. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says I, “and then you would of married that there night, I - suppose.” - </p> - <p> - She says she would of. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says I, “mebby you would of and mebby you wouldn't of. If he - cleaved David Armstrong, that night would likely be arrested fur it.” - </p> - <p> - Martha says if he was she would wait outside his dungeon keep fur years - and years, till she was a old woman with gray in her hair, and every day - they would give lingering looks at each other through the window bars. And - they would be happy thata-way. And she would get her a white dove and - train it so it would fly up to that window and take in notes to him, and - he would send notes back that-away, and they would both be awful sad and - romanceful and contented doing that-a-way fur ever and ever. - </p> - <p> - Well, I never took no stock in them mournful ways of being happy. I - couldn't of riz up to being a night fur Martha. She expected too much of - one. I thought it over fur a little spell without saying anything, and I - tried to make myself believe I would of liked all that dove business. But - it wasn't no use pertending. I knowed I would get tired of it. - </p> - <p> - “Martha,” I says, “mebby these here nights is all right, and mebby they - ain't. I never seen one, and I don't know. And, mind you, I ain't saying a - word agin their way of acting. I can't say how I would of been myself, if - I had been brung up like them. But it looks to me, from some of the things - you've said about 'em, they must have a dern fool streak in 'em - somewheres.” - </p> - <p> - I was kind of jealous of them nights, I guess, or I wouldn't of run 'em - down that-a-way behind their backs. But the way she was always taking on - over them was calkelated to make me see I wasn't knee-high to a duck in - Martha's mind when one of them nights popped into her head. When I run 'em - down that-a-way, she says to the blind all things is blind, and if I had - any chivalry into me myself I'd of seen they wasn't jest dern fools, but - noble, and seen it easy. And she sighed, like she'd looked fur better - things from me. When I hearn her do that I felt sorry I hadn't come up to - her expectances. So I says: - </p> - <p> - “Martha, it's no use pertending I could stay in one of them jails and keep - happy at it. I got to be outdoors. But I tell you what I can do, if it - will make you feel any better. If I ever happen to run acrost this here - David Armstrong, and he is anywheres near my size, I'll lick him fur you. - And if he's too hefty fur me to lick him fair,” I says, “and I get a good - chancet I will hit him with a piece of railroad iron fur you.” - </p> - <p> - Of course, I knowed I would never find him. But what I said seemed to - brighten her up a little. - </p> - <p> - “But,” says I, “if I went too fur with it, and was hung fur it, how would - you feel then, Martha?” - </p> - <p> - Well, sir, that didn't jar Martha none. She looked kind of dreamy and said - mebby she would go and jine a convent and be a nun. And when she got to be - the head nun she would build a chapel over the tomb where I was buried in. - And every year, on the day of the month I was hung on, she would lead all - the other nuns into that chapel, and the organ would play mournful, and - each nun as passed would lay down a bunch of white roses onto my tomb. I - reckon that orter made me feel good, but somehow it didn't. - </p> - <p> - So I changed the subject, and asts her why I ain't seen Miss Hampton - around the place none. Martha says she has a bad sick headache and ain't - been outside the house fur four or five days. I asts her why she don't - wait on her. But she don't want her to, Martha says. She's been staying in - the house ever since we been in town, and jest wants to be let alone. I - thinks all that is kind of funny. And then I seen from the way Martha is - answering my questions that she is holding back something she would like - to tell, but don't think she orter tell. I leaves her alone and purty soon - she says: - </p> - <p> - “Do you believe in ghosts?” - </p> - <p> - I tell her sometimes I think I don't believe in 'em, and sometimes I think - I do, but anyhow I would hate to see one. I asts her why does she ast. - </p> - <p> - “Because,” she says, “because—but I hadn't ought to tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “It's daylight,” I says; “it's no use being scared to tell now.” - </p> - <p> - “It ain't that,” she says, “but it's a secret.” - </p> - <p> - When she said it was a secret, I knowed she would tell. Martha liked - having her friends help her to keep a secret. - </p> - <p> - “I think Miss Hampton has seen one,” she says, finally, “and that her - staying indoors has something to do with that.” - </p> - <p> - Then she tells me. The night of the day after we camped there, her and - Miss Hampton was out fur a walk. We didn't have any show that night. They - passed right by our camp, and they seen us there by the fire, all three of - us. But they was in the road in the dark, and we was all in the light, so - none of the three of us seen them. Miss Hampton was kind of scared of us, - first glance, fur she gasped and grabbed holt of Martha's arm all of a - sudden so tight she pinched it. Which it was very natcheral that she would - be startled, coming across three strange men all of a sudden at night - around a turn in the road. They went along home, and Martha went inside - and lighted a lamp, but Miss Hampton lingered on the porch fur a minute. - Jest as she lit the lamp Martha hearn another little gasp, or kind of - sigh, from Miss Hampton out there on the porch. Then they was the sound of - her falling down. Martha ran out with the lamp, and she was laying there. - She had fainted and keeled over. Martha said jest in the minute she had - left her alone on the porch was when Miss Hampton must of seen the ghost. - Martha brung her to, and she was looking puzzled and wild-like both to - oncet. Martha asts her what is the matter. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” she says, rubbing her fingers over her forehead in a helpless - kind of way, “nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “You look like you had seen a ghost,” Martha tells her. - </p> - <p> - Miss Hampton looks at Martha awful funny, and then she says mebby she <i>has</i> - seen a ghost, and goes along upstairs to bed. And since then she ain't - been out of the house. She tells Martha it is a sick headache, but Martha - says she knows it ain't. She thinks she is scared of something. - </p> - <p> - “Scared?” I says. “She wouldn't see no more ghosts in the daytime.” - </p> - <p> - Martha says how do I know she wouldn't? She knows a lot about ghosts of - all kinds, Martha does. - </p> - <p> - Horses and dogs can see them easier than humans, even in the daytime, and - it makes their hair stand up when they do. But some humans that have the - gift can see them in the daytime like an animal. And Martha asts me how - can I tell but Miss Hampton is like that? - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” I says, “she must be a witch. And if she is a witch why is - she scared of them a-tall?” - </p> - <p> - But Martha says if you have second sight you don't need to be a witch to - see them in the daytime. - </p> - <p> - Well, you can never tell about them ghosts. Some says one thing and some - says another. Old Mis' Primrose, in our town, she always believed in 'em - firm till her husband died. When he was dying they fixed it up he was to - come back and visit her. She told him he had to, and he promised. And she - left the front door open fur him night after night fur nigh a year, in all - kinds of weather; but Primrose never come. Mis' Primrose says he never - lied to her, and he always done jest as she told him, and if he could of - come she knowed he would; and when he didn't she quit believing in ghosts. - But they was others in our town said it didn't prove nothing at all. They - said Primrose had really been lying to her all his life, because she was - so bossy he had to lie to keep peace in the fambly, and she never ketched - on. Well, if I was a ghost and had of been Mis' Primrose's husband when I - was a human, I wouldn't of come back neither, even if she had of - bully-ragged me into one of them death-bed promises. I guess Primrose - figgered he had earnt a rest. - </p> - <p> - If they is ghosts, what comfort they can get out of coming back where they - ain't wanted and scaring folks is more'n I can see. It's kind of low down, - I think, and foolish too. Them kind of ghosts is like these here overgrown - smart alecs that scares kids. They think they are mighty cute, but they - ain't. They are jest foolish. A human, or a ghost either, that does things - like that is jest simply got no principle to him. I hearn a lot of talk - about 'em, first and last, and I ain't ready to say they ain't no ghosts, - nor yet ready to say they is any. To say they is any is to say something - that is too plumb unlikely. And too many people has saw them fur me to say - they ain't any. But if they is, or they ain't, so fur as I can see, it - don't make much difference. Fur they never do nothing, besides scaring - you, except to rap on tables and tell fortunes, and such fool things. - Which a human can do it all better and save the expense of paying money to - one of these here sperrit mediums that travels around and makes 'em - perform. But all the same they has been nights I has felt different about - 'em myself, and less hasty to run 'em down. Well, it don't do no good to - speak harsh of no one, not even a ghost or a ordinary dead man, and if I - was to see a ghost, mebby I would be all the scareder fur what I have jest - wrote. - </p> - <p> - Well, with all the talking back and forth we done about them ghosts we - couldn't agree. That afternoon it seemed like we couldn't agree about - anything. I knowed we would be going away from there before long, and I - says to myself before I go I'm going to have that girl fur my girl, or - else know the reason why. No matter what I was talking about, that idea - was in the back of my head, and somehow it kind of made me want to pick - fusses with her, too. We was setting on a log, purty deep into the woods, - and there come a time when neither of us had said nothing fur quite a - spell. But after a while I says: - </p> - <p> - “Martha, we'll be going away from here in two, three days now.” - </p> - <p> - She never said nothing. - </p> - <p> - “Will you be sorry?” I asts her. - </p> - <p> - She says she will be sorry. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “<i>why</i> will you be sorry?” - </p> - <p> - I thought she would say because <i>I</i> was going. And then I would be - finding out whether she liked me a lot. But she says the reason she will - be sorry is because there will be no one new to talk to about things both - has read. I was considerable took down when she said that. - </p> - <p> - “Martha,” I says, “it's more'n likely I won't never see you agin after I - go away.” - </p> - <p> - She says that kind of parting comes between the best of friends. - </p> - <p> - I seen I wasn't getting along very fast, nor saying what I wanted to say. - I reckon one of them Sir Marmeluke fellers would of knowed what to say. Or - Doctor Kirby would. Or mebby even Looey would of said it better than I - could. So I was kind of mad with myself, and I says, mean-like: - </p> - <p> - “If you don't care, of course, I don't care, neither.” - </p> - <p> - She never answered that, so I gets up and makes like I am starting off. - </p> - <p> - “I was going to give you some of them there Injun feathers of mine to - remember me by,” I tells her, “but if you don't want 'em, there's plenty - of others would be glad to take 'em.” - </p> - <p> - But she says she would like to have them. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “I will bring them to you tomorrow afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - She says, “Thank you.” - </p> - <p> - Finally I couldn't stand it no longer. I got brave all of a sudden, and - busted out: “Martha, I—I—I—” - </p> - <p> - But I got to stuttering, and my braveness stuttered itself away. And I - finishes up by saying: - </p> - <p> - “I like you a hull lot, Martha.” Which wasn't jest exactly what I had - planned fur to say. - </p> - <p> - Martha, she says she kind of likes me, too. - </p> - <p> - “Martha,” I says, “I like you more'n any girl I ever run acrost before.” - </p> - <p> - She says, “Thank you,” agin. The way she said it riled me up. She said it - like she didn't know what I meant, nor what I was trying to get out of me. - But she did know all the time. I knowed she did. She knowed I knowed it, - too. Gosh-dern it, I says to myself, here I am wasting all this time jest - <i>talking</i> to her. The right thing to do come to me all of a sudden, - and like to took my breath away. But I done it. I grabbed her and I kissed - her. - </p> - <p> - Twice. And then agin. Because the first was on the chin on account of her - jerking her head back. And the second one she didn't help me none. But the - third time she helped me a little. And the ones after that she helped me - considerable. - </p> - <p> - Well, they ain't no use trying to talk about the rest of that afternoon. I - couldn't rightly describe it if I wanted to. And I reckon it's none of - anybody's business. - </p> - <p> - Well, it makes you feel kind of funny. You want to go out and pick on - somebody about four sizes bigger'n you are and knock the socks off'n him. - It stands to reason others has felt that-a-way, but you don't believe it. - You want to tell people about it one minute. The next minute you have got - chills and ague fur fear some one will guess it. And you think the way you - are about her is going to last fur always. - </p> - <p> - That evening, when I was cooking supper, I laughed every time I was spoke - to. When Looey and I was hitching up to drive down town to give the show, - one of the hosses stepped on his foot and I laughed at that, and there was - purty nigh a fight. And I was handling some bottles and broke one and cut - my hand on a piece of glass. I held it out fur a minute dumb-like, with - the blood and medicine dripping off of it, and all of a sudden I busted - out laughing agin. The doctor asts if I am crazy. And Looey says he has - thought I was from the very first, and some night him and the doctor will - be killed whilst asleep. One of the things we have every night in the show - is an Injun dance, and Looey and I sings what the doctor calls the Siwash - war chant, whirling round and round each other, and making licks at each - other with our tommyhawks, and letting out sudden wild yips in the midst - of that chant. That night I like to of killed Looey with that tommyhawk, I - was feeling so good. If it had been a real one, instead of painted-up - wood, I would of killed Looey, the lick I give him. The worst part of that - was that, after the show, when we got back to camp and the hosses was - picketed out fur the night, I had to tell Looey all about how I felt fur - an explanation of why I hit him. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0127.jpg" alt="0127 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0127.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Which it made Looey right low in his sperrits, and he shakes his head and - says no good will come of it. - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever hear of Romeo and Joliet?” he says: - </p> - <p> - “Mebby,” I says, “but what it was I hearn I can't remember. What about - them?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he says, “they carried on the same as you. And now where are - they?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “where are they?” - </p> - <p> - “In the tomb,” says Looey, very sad, like they was closte personal friends - of his'n. And he told me all about them and how Young Cobalt had done fur - them. But from what I could make out it all happened away back in the - early days. And shucks!—I didn't care a dern, anyhow. I told him so. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he says, “It's been the history of the world that it brings - trouble.” And he says to look at Damon and Pythias, and Othello and the - Merchant of Venus. And he named about a hundred prominent couples like - that out of Shakespeare's works. - </p> - <p> - “But it ends happy sometimes,” I says. - </p> - <p> - “Not when it is true love it don't,” says Looey. “Look at Anthony and - Cleopatra.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I says, sarcastic like, “I suppose they are in the tomb, too?” - </p> - <p> - “They are,” says Looey, awful solemn. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I says, “and so is Adam and Eve and Dan and Burrsheba and all the - rest of them old-timers. But I bet they had a good time while they - lasted.” - </p> - <p> - Looey shakes his head solemn and sighs and goes to sleep very mournful, - like he has to give me up fur lost. But I can't sleep none myself. So - purty soon I gets up and puts on my shoes and sneaks through the wood-lot - and through the gap in the fence by the apple tree and into Miss Hampton's - yard. - </p> - <p> - It was a beauty of a moonlight night, that white and clear and clean you - could almost see to read by it, like all of everything had been scoured as - bright as the bottom of a tin pan. And the shadders was soft and thick and - velvety and laid kind of brownish-greeney on the grass. I flopped down in - the shadder of some lilac bushes and wondered which was Martha's window. I - knowed she would be in bed long ago, but—— Well, I was jest - plumb foolish that night, and I couldn't of kept away fur any money. That - moonlight had got into my head, it seemed like, and made me drunk. But I - would rather be looney that-a-way than to have as much sense as King - Solomon and all his adverbs. I was that looney that if I had knowed any - poetry I would of said it out loud, right up toward that window. I never - knowed why poetry was made up before that night. But the only poetry I - could think of was about there was a man named Furgeson that lived on - Market Street, and he had a one-eyed Thomas cat that couldn't well be - beat. Which it didn't seem to fit the case, so I didn't say her. - </p> - <p> - The porch of that house was part covered with vines, but they was kind of - gaped apart at one corner. As I laid there in the shadder of the bushes I - hearn a fluttering movement, light and gentle, on that porch. Then, all of - a sudden, I seen some one standing on the edge of the porch where the - vines was gaped apart, and the moonlight was falling onto them. They must - of come there awful soft and still. Whoever it was couldn't see into the - shadder where I laid, that is, if it was a human and not a ghost. Fur my - first thought was it might be one of them ghosts I had been running down - so that very day, and mebby the same one Miss Hampton seen on that very - same porch. I thought I was in fur it then, mebby, and I felt like some - one had whispered to the back of my neck it ought to be scared. And I <i>was</i> - scared clean up into my hair. I stared hard, fur I couldn't take my eyes - away. Then purty soon I seen if it was a ghost it must be a woman ghost. - Fur it was dressed in light-coloured clothes that moved jest a little in - the breeze, and the clothes was so near the colour of the moonlight they - seemed to kind of silver into it. You would of said it had jest floated - there, and was waiting fur to float away agin when the breeze blowed a - little stronger, or the moon drawed it. - </p> - <p> - It didn't move fur ever so long. Then it leaned forward through the gap in - the vines, and I seen the face real plain. It wasn't no ghost, it was a - lady. Then I knowed it must be Miss Hampton standing there. Away off - through the trees our camp fire sent up jest a dull kind of a glow. She - was standing there looking at that. I wondered why. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he next day we - broke camp and was gone from that place, and I took away with me the half - of a ring me and Martha had chopped in two. We kept on going, and by the - time punkins and county fairs was getting ripe we was into the upper - left-hand corner of Ohio. And there Looey left us. - </p> - <p> - One day Doctor Kirby and me was walking along the main street of a little - town and we seen a bang-up funeral percession coming. It must of been one - of the Grand Army of the Republicans, fur they was some of the old - soldiers in buggies riding along behind, and a big string of people - follering in more buggies and some on foot. Everybody was looking mighty - sollum. But they was one man setting beside the undertaker on the seat of - the hearse that was looking sollumer than them all. It was Looey, and I'll - bet the corpse himself would of felt proud and happy and contented if he - could of knowed the style Looey was giving that funeral. - </p> - <p> - It wasn't nothing Looey done, fur he didn't do nothing but jest set there - with his arms folded onto his bosom and look sad. But he done <i>that</i> - better than any one else. He done it so well that you forgot the corpse - was the chief party to that funeral. Looey took all the glory from him. He - had jest natcherally stole that funeral away from its rightful owner with - his enjoyment of it. He seen the doctor and me as the hearse went by our - corner, but he never let on. A couple of hours later Looey comes into camp - and says he is going to quit. - </p> - <p> - The doctor asts him if he has inherited money. - </p> - <p> - “No,” says Looey, “but my aunt has given me a chancet to go into - business.” - </p> - <p> - Looey says he was born nigh there, and was prowling around town the day - before and run acrost an old aunt of his'n he had forgot all about. She is - awful respectable and religious and ashamed of him being into a travelling - show. And she has offered to lend him enough to buy a half-share in a - business. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says the doctor, “I hope it will be something you are fitted for - and will enjoy. But I've noticed that after a man gets the habit of - roaming around this terrestial ball it's mighty hard to settle down and - watch his vine and fig tree grow.” - </p> - <p> - Looey smiles in a sad sort of a way, which he seldom smiled fur anything, - and says he guesses he'll like the business. He says they ain't many - businesses he could take to. Most of them makes you forget this world is - but a fleeting show. But he has found a business which keeps you reminded - all the time that dust is dust and ash to ashes shalt return. When he - first went into the medicine business, he said, he was drawed to it by the - diseases and the sudden dyings-off it always kept him in mind of. He - thought they wasn't no other business could lay over it fur that kind of - comfort. But he has found out his mistake. - </p> - <p> - “What kind of business are you going into?” asts the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “I am going to be an undertaker,” says Looey. “My aunt says this town - needs the right kind of an undertaker bad.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Wilcox, the undertaker that town has, is getting purty old and shaky, - Looey says, and young Mr. Wilcox, his son, is too light-minded and goes at - things too brisk and airy to give it the right kind of a send-off. People - don't want him joking around their corpses and he is a fat young man and - can't help making puns even in the presence of the departed. Old Mr. - Wilcox's eyesight is getting so poor he made a scandal in that town only - the week before. He was composing a departed's face into a last smile, but - he went too fur with it, and give the departed one of them awful mean, - devilish kind of grins, like he had died with a bad temper on. By the time - the departed's fambly had found it out, things had went too fur, and the - face had set that-a-way, so it wasn't safe to try to change it any. - </p> - <p> - Old Mr. Wilcox had several brands of last looks. One was called: “Bear Up, - for We Will Meet Again.” The one that had went wrong was his favourite - look, named: “O Death, Where is Thy Victory?” - </p> - <p> - Looey's aunt says she will buy him a partnership if she is satisfied he - can fill the town's needs. They have a talk with the Wilcoxes, and he - rides on the hearse that day fur a try-out. His aunt peeks out behind her - bedroom curtains as the percession goes by her house, and when she sees - the style Looey is giving to that funeral, and how easy it comes to him, - that settles it with her on the spot. And it seems the hull dern town - liked it, too, including the departed's fambly. - </p> - <p> - Looey says they is a lot of chancet fur improvements in the undertaking - game by one whose heart is in his work, and he is going into that business - to make a success of it, and try and get all the funeral trade fur miles - around. He reads us an advertisement of the new firm he has been figgering - out fur that town's weekly paper. I cut a copy out when it was printed, - and it is about the genteelest thing like that I even seen, as follers: - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0136.jpg" alt="0136 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0136.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - WILCOX AND SIMMS Invite Your Patronage - </p> - <p> - This earth is but a fleeting show, and the blank-winged angels wait for - all. It is always a satisfaction to remember that all possible has been - done for the deceased. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - See Our New Line of Coffins - Lined Caskets a Specialty - Lodge Work Solicited -</pre> - <p> - Time and tide wait for no man, and his days are few and full of troubles. - The paths of glory lead but to the grave, and none can tell when mortal - feet may stumble. - </p> - <p> - When in Town Drop in and Inspect Our New Embalming Outfit. It is a - Pleasure to Show Goods and Tools Even if Your Family Needs no Work Done - Just Yet. - </p> - <p> - Outfits for mourners who have been bereaved on short notice a specialty. - We take orders for tombstones. Look at our line of shrouds, robes, and - black suits for either sex and any age. Give us just one call, and you - will entrust future embalmings and obsequies in your family to no other - firm. - </p> - <p> - WILCOX AND SIMMS Main Street, Near Depot - </p> - <p> - The doctor, he reads it over careful and says she orter drum up trade, all - right. Looey tells us that mebby, if he can get that town educated up to - it, he will put in a creamatory, where he will burn them, too, but will go - slow, fur that there sollum and beautiful way of returning ash to ashes - might make some prejudice in such a religious town. - </p> - <p> - The last we seen of Looey was a couple of days later when we told him - good-bye in his shop. Old Mr. Wilcox was explaining to him the science of - them last looks he was so famous at when he was a younger man. Young Mr. - Wilcox was laying on a table fur Looey to practise on, and Looey was - learning fast. But he nearly broke down when he said good-bye, fur he - liked the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “Doc,” he says, “you've been a good friend, and I won't never forget you. - They ain't much I can do, and in this deceitful world words is less than - actions. But if you ever was to die within a hundred miles of me, I'd go,” - he says, “and no other hands but mine should lay you out. And it wouldn't - cost you a cent, either. Nor you neither, Danny.” - </p> - <p> - We thanked him kindly fur the offer, and went. - </p> - <p> - The next town we come to there was a county fair, and the doctor run - acrost an old pal of his'n who had a show on the grounds and wanted to - hire him fur what he called a ballyhoo man. Which was the first I ever - hearn them called that, but I got better acquainted with them since. They - are the fellers that stands out in front and gets you all excited about - the Siamese twins or the bearded lady or the snake-charmer or the - Circassian beauties or whatever it is inside the tent, as represented upon - the canvas. The doctor says he will do it fur a week, jest fur fun, and - mebby pick up another feller to take Looey's place out there. - </p> - <p> - This feller's name is Watty Sanders, and his wife is a fat lady in his own - show and very good-natured when not intoxicated nor mad at Watty. She was - billed on the curtains outside fur five hundred and fifty pounds, and - Watty says she really does weigh nigh on to four hundred. But being a fat - lady's husband ain't no bed of rosy ease at that, Watty tells the doctor. - It's like every other trade—it has its own pertic'ler - responsibilities and troubles. She is a turrible expense to Watty on - account of eating so much. The tales that feller told of how hard he has - to hustle showing her off in order to support her appetite would of drawed - tears from a pawnbroker's sign, as Doctor Kirby says. Which he found it - cheaper fur his hull show to board and sleep in the tent, and we done - likewise. - </p> - <p> - Well, I got a job with that show myself. Watty had a wild man canvas but - no wild man, so he made me an offer and I took him up. I was from Borneo, - where they're all supposed to be captured. Jest as Doctor Kirby would get - to his talk about how the wild man had been ketched after great struggle - and expense, with four men killed and another crippled, there would be an - awful rumpus on the inside of the tent, with wild howlings and the sound - of revolvers shot off and a woman screaming. Then I would come busting out - all blacked up from head to heel with no more clothes on than the law - pervided fur, yipping loud and shaking a big spear and rolling my eyes, - and Watty would come rushing after me firing his revolver. I would make - fur the doctor and draw my spear back to jab it clean through him, and - Watty would grab my arm. And the doctor would whirl round and they would - wrastle me to the ground and I would be handcuffed and dragged back into - the tent, still howling and struggling to break loose. On the inside my - part of the show was to be wild in a cage. I would be chained to the - floor, and every now and then I would get wilder and rattle my chains and - shake the bars and make jumps at the crowd and carry on, and make believe - I was too mad to eat the pieces of raw meat Watty throwed into the cage. - </p> - <p> - Watty had a snake-charmer woman, with an awful long, bony kind of neck, - working fur him, and another feller that was her husband and eat glass. - The show opened up with them two doing what they said was a comic turn. - Then the fat lady come on. Whilst everybody was admiring her size, and - looking at the number of pounds on them big cheat scales Watty weighed her - on, the long-necked one would be changing to her snake clothes. Which she - only had one snake, and he had been in the business so long, and was so - kind of worn out and tired with being charmed so much, it always seemed - like a pity to me the way she would take and twist him around. I guess - they never was a snake was worked harder fur the little bit he got to eat, - nor got no sicker of a woman's society than poor old Reginald did. After - Reginald had been charmed a while, it would be the glass eater's turn. - Which he really eat it, and the doctor says that kind always dies before - they is fifty. I never knowed his right name, but what he went by was The - Human Ostrich. - </p> - <p> - Watty's wife was awful jealous of Mrs. Ostrich, fur she got the idea she - was carrying on with Watty. One night I hearn an argument from the - fenced-off part of the tent Watty and his wife slept in. She was setting - on Watty's chest and he was gasping fur mercy. - </p> - <p> - “You know it ain't true,” says Watty, kind of smothered-like. - </p> - <p> - “It is,” says she, “you own up it is!” And she give him a jounce. - </p> - <p> - “No, darling,” he gets out of him, “you know I never could bear them thin, - scrawny kind of women.” And he begins to call her pet names of all kinds - and beg her please, if she won't get off complete, to set somewheres else - a minute, fur his chest he can feel giving way, and his ribs caving in. He - called her his plump little woman three or four times and she must of - softened up some, fur she moved and his voice come stronger, but not less - meek and lowly. And he follers it up: - </p> - <p> - “Dolly, darling,” he says, “I bet I know something my little woman don't - know.” - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” the fat lady asts him. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0143.jpg" alt="0143 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0143.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “You don't know what a cruel, weak stomach your hubby has got,” Watty - says, awful coaxing like, “or you wouldn't bear down quite so hard onto it—please, - Dolly!” - </p> - <p> - She begins to blubber and say he is making fun of her big size, and if he - is mean to her any more or ever looks at another woman agin she will take - anti-fat and fade away to nothing and ruin his show, and it is awful hard - to be made a joke of all her life and not have no steady home nor nothing - like other women does. - </p> - <p> - “You know I worship every pound of you, little woman,” says Watty, still - coaxing. “Why can't you trust me? You know, Dolly, darling, I wouldn't - take your weight in gold for you.” And he tells her they never was but - once in all his life he has so much as turned his head to look at another - woman, and that was by way of a plutonic admiration, and no flirting - intended, he says. And even then it was before he had met his own little - woman. And that other woman, he says, was plump too, fur he wouldn't never - look at none but a plump woman. - </p> - <p> - “What did she weigh?” asts Watty's wife. He tells her a measly little - three hundred pound. - </p> - <p> - “But she wasn't refined like my little woman,” says Watty, “and when I - seen that I passed her up.” And inch by inch Watty coaxed her clean off of - him. - </p> - <p> - But the next day she hearn him and Mrs. Ostrich giggling about something, - and she has a reg'lar tantrum, and jest fur meanness goes out and falls - down on the race track, pertending she has fainted, and they can't move - her no ways, not even roll her. But finally they rousted her out of that - by one of these here sprinkling carts backing up agin her and turning - loose. - </p> - <p> - But aside from them occasional mean streaks Dolly was real nice, and I - kind of got to liking her. She tells me that because she is so fat no one - won't take her serious like a human being, and she wisht she was like - other women and had a fambly. That woman wanted a baby, too, and I bet she - would of been good to it, fur she was awful good to animals. She had been - big from a little girl, and never got no sympathy when sick, nor nothing, - and even whilst she played with dolls as a kid she knowed she looked - ridiculous, and was laughed at. And by jings!—they was the funniest - thing come to light before we left that crowd. That poor, derned, old, fat - fool <i>had</i> a doll yet, all hid away, and when she was alone she used - to take it out and cuddle it. Well, Dolly never had many friends, and you - couldn't blame her much if she did drink a little too much now and then, - or get mad at Watty fur his goings-on and kneel down on him whilst he was - asleep. Them was her only faults and I liked the old girl. Yet I could see - Watty had his troubles too. - </p> - <p> - That show busted up before the fair closed. Fur one day Watty's wife gets - mad at Mrs. Ostrich and tries to set on her. And then Mrs. Ostrich gets - mad too, and sicks Reginald onto her. Watty's wife is awful scared of - Reginald, who don't really have ambition enough to bite no one, let alone - a lady built so round everywhere he couldn't of got a grip on her. And as - fur as wrapping himself around her and squashing her to death, Reginald - never seen the day he could reach that fur. Reginald's feelings is plumb - friendly toward Dolly when he is turned loose, but she don't know that, - and she has some hysterics and faints in earnest this time. Well, they was - an awful hullaballo when she come to, and fur the sake of peace in the - fambly Watty has to fire Mr. and Mrs. Ostrich and poor old Reginald out of - their jobs, and the show is busted. So Doctor Kirby and me lit out fur - other parts agin. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e was jogging - along one afternoon not fur from a good-sized town at the top of Ohio, - right on the lake, when we run acrost some remainders of a busted circus - riding in a stake and chain wagon. They was two fellers—both - jugglers, acrobats, and tumblers—and a balloon. The circus had - busted without paying them nothing but promises fur months and months, and - they had took the team and wagon and balloon by attachment, they said. - They was carting her from the little burg the show busted in to that - good-sized town on the lake. They would sell the team and wagon there and - get money enough to put an advertisement in the Billboard, which is like a - Bible to them showmen, that they had a balloon to sell and was at liberty. - </p> - <p> - One of them was the slimmest, lightest-footed, quickest feller you ever - seen, with a big nose and dark complected, and his name was Tobias. The - other was heavier and blonde complected. His name was Dobbs, he said, and - they was the Blanchet Brothers. Doctor Kirby and them got real well - acquainted in about three minutes. We drove on ahead and got into the town - first. - </p> - <p> - The doctor says that balloon is jest wasted on them fellers. They can't go - up in her, not knowing that trade, but still they ought to be some way fur - them to make a little stake out of it before it was sold. - </p> - <p> - The next evening we run acrost them fellers on the street, and they was - feeling purty blue. They hadn't been able to sell that team and wagon, - which it was eating its meals reg'lar in a livery stable, and they had - been doing stunts in the street that day and passing around the hat, but - not getting enough fur to pay expenses. - </p> - <p> - “Where's the balloon?” asts the doctor. And I seen he was sicking his - intellects onto the job of making her pay. - </p> - <p> - “In the livery stable with the wagon,” they tells him. - </p> - <p> - He says he is going to figger out a way to help them boys. They is like - all circus performers, he says—they jest knows their own acts, and - talks about 'em all the time, and studies up ways to make 'em better, and - has got no more idea of business outside of that than a rabbit. We all - went to the livery stable and overhauled that balloon. It was an awful - job, too. But they wasn't a rip in her, and the parachute was jest as good - as new. - </p> - <p> - “There's no reason why we can't give a show of our own,” says Doctor - Kirby, “with you boys and Danny and me and that balloon. What we want is a - lot with a high board fence around it, like a baseball grounds, and the - chance to tap a gas main.” He says he'll be willing to take a chancet on - it, even paying the gas company real money to fill her up. - </p> - <p> - What the Doctor didn't know about starting shows wasn't worth knowing. He - had even went in for the real drama in his younger days now and then. - </p> - <p> - “One of my theatrical productions came very near succeeding, too,” he - says. - </p> - <p> - It was a play he says, in which the hero falls in love with a pair of - Siamese twins and commits suicide because he can't make a choice between - them. - </p> - <p> - “We played it as comedy in the big towns and tragedy in the little ones,” - he says. “But like a fool I booked it for two weeks of middle-sized towns - and it broke us.” - </p> - <p> - The next day he finds a lot that will do jest fine. It has been used fur a - school playgrounds, but the school has been moved and the old building is - to be tore down. He hired the place cheap. And he goes and talks the gas - company into giving him credit to fill that balloon. Which I kept - wondering what was the use of filling her, fur none of the four of us had - ever went up in one. And when I seen the handbills he had had printed I - wondered all the more. They read as follers: - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0150.jpg" alt="0150 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0150.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Kirby's Komedy Kompany and Open Air Circus - </p> - <p> - Presenting a Peerless Personnel of Artistic Attractions - </p> - <p> - Greatest in the Galaxy of Gaiety, is - </p> - <p> - Hartley L. Kirby - </p> - <p> - Monologuist and minstrel, dancer and vaudevillian in his terpsichorean - travesties, buoyant burlesques, inimitable imitations, screaming - impersonations, refined comedy sketches and popular song hits of the day. - </p> - <p> - The Blanchet Brothers - </p> - <p> - Daring, Dazzling, Danger-Loving, Death-Defying Demons - </p> - <p> - Joyous jugglers, acrobatic artists, constrictorial contortionists, - exquisite equilibrists, in their marvellous, mysterious, unparalleled - performances. - </p> - <p> - Umslopogus The Patagonian Chieftain - </p> - <p> - The lowest type of human intellect - </p> - <p> - This formerly ferocious fiend has so far succumbed to the softer wiles of - civilization that he is no longer a cannibal, and it is now safe to put - him on exhibition. But to prevent accidents he is heavily manacled, and - the public is warned not to come too near. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Balloon! Balloon!! Balloon!!! - - The management also presents the balloon of - - Prof. Alonzo Ackerman The Famous Aeronaut - - in which he has made his - - Wonderful Ascension and Parachute Drop - - many times, reaching remarkable altitudes - - Balloon! Balloon!! Balloon!!! - - Saturday, 3 P. M. Old Vandegrift School Lot -</pre> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Admission 50 Cents -</pre> - <p> - Well, fur a writer he certainly laid over Looey, Doctor Kirby did—more - cheerful-like, you might say. I seen right off I was to be the Patagonian - Chieftain. I was getting more and more of an actor right along—first - an Injun, then a wild Borneo, and now a Patagonian. - </p> - <p> - “But who is this Alonzo Ackerman?” I asts him. - </p> - <p> - “Celebrated balloonist,” says he, “and the man that invented parachutes. - They eat out of his hand.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is he?” asts I. - </p> - <p> - “How should I know?” he says. - </p> - <p> - “How is he going up, then?” I asts. - </p> - <p> - The doctor chuckles and says it is a good bill, a better bill than he - thought; that it is getting in its work already. He says to me to read it - careful and see if it says Alonzo Ackerman is going up. Well, it don't. - But any one would of thought so the first look. I reckon that bill was - some of a liar herself, not lying outright, but jest hinting a lie. They - is a lot of mean, stingy-souled kind of people wouldn't never lie to help - a friend, but Doctor Kirby wasn't one of 'em. - </p> - <p> - “But,” I says, “when that crowd finds out Alonzo ain't going up they will - be purty mad.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” says he, “I don't think so. The American public are a good-natured - set of chuckle-heads, mostly. If they get sore I'll talk 'em out of it.” - </p> - <p> - If he had any faults at all—and mind you, I ain't saying Doctor - Kirby had any—the one he had hardest was the belief he could talk - any crowd into any notion, or out of it, either. And he loved to do it - jest fur the fun of it. He'd rather have the feeling he was doing that - than the money any day. He was powerful vain about that gab of his'n, - Doctor Kirby was. - </p> - <p> - The four of us took around about five thousand bills. The doctor says they - is nothing like giving yourself a chancet. And Saturday morning we got the - balloon filled up so she showed handsome, tugging away there at her ropes. - But we had a dern mean time with that balloon, too. - </p> - <p> - The doctor says if we have good luck there may be as many as three, four - hundred people. - </p> - <p> - But Jerusalem! They was two, three times that many. By the time the show - started I reckon they was nigh a thousand there. The doctor and the - Blanchet Brothers was tickled. When they quit coming fast the doctor left - the gate and made a little speech, telling all about the wonderful show, - and the great expense it was to get it together, and all that. - </p> - <p> - They was a rope stretched between the crowd and us. Back of that was the - Blanchet Brothers' wagon and our wagon, and our little tent. I was jest - inside the tent with chains on. Back of everything else was the balloon. - </p> - <p> - Well, the doctor he done a lot of songs and things as advertised. Then the - Blanchet Brothers done some of their acts. They was really fine acts, too. - Then come some more of Doctor Kirby's refined comedy, as advertised. Next, - more Blanchet. Then a lecture about me by the doctor. All in all it takes - up about an hour and a half. Then the doctor makes a mighty nice little - talk, and wishes them all good afternoon, thanking them fur their kind - intentions and liberal patronage, one and all. - </p> - <p> - “But when will the balloon go up?” asts half a dozen at oncet. - </p> - <p> - “The balloon?” asts Doctor Kirby, surprised. - </p> - <p> - “Balloon! Balloon!” yells a kid. And the hull crowd took it up and yelled: - “Balloon! Balloon! Balloon!” And they crowded up closte to that rope. - </p> - <p> - Doctor Kirby has been getting off the wagon, but he gets back on her, and - stretches his arms wide, and motions of 'em all to come close. - </p> - <p> - “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “please to gather near—up here, - good people—and listen! Listen to what I have to say—harken to - the utterings of my voice! There has been a misunderstanding here! There - has been a misconstruction! There has been, ladies and gentlemen, a woeful - lack of comprehension here!” - </p> - <p> - It looked to me like they was beginning to understand more than he meant - them to. I was wondering how it would all come out, but he never lost his - nerve. - </p> - <p> - “Listen,” he says, very earnest, “listen to me. Somehow the idea seems to - have gone forth that there would be a balloon ascension here this - afternoon. How, I do not know, for what we advertised, ladies and - gentlemen, was that the balloon used by Prof. Alonzo Ackerman, the - illustrious aeronaut, would be <i>UPON EXHIBITION</i>. And there she is, - ladies and gentlemen, there she is, for every eye to see and gladden with - the sight of—right before you, ladies and gentlemen—the - balloon of Alonzo Ackerman, the wonderful voyager of the air, exactly as - represented. During their long career Kirby and Company have never - deceived the public. Others may, but Kirby and Company are like Caesar's - wife—Kirby and Company are above suspicion. It is the province of - Kirby's Komedy Kompany, ladies and gentlemen, to spread the glad tidings - of innocent amusement throughout the length and breadth of this fair land - of ours. And there she is before you, the balloon as advertised, the - gallant ship of the air in which the illustrious Ackerman made so many - voyages before he sailed at last into the Great Beyond! You can see her, - ladies and gentlemen, straining at her cords, anxious to mount into the - heavens and be gone! It is an education in itself, ladies and gentlemen, a - moral education, and well worth coming miles to see. Think of it—think - of it—the Ackerman balloon—and then think that the illustrious - Ackerman himself—he was my personal friend, ladies and gentlemen, - and a true friend sticketh closer than a brother—the illustrious - Ackerman is dead. The balloon, ladies and gentlemen, is there, but - Ackerman is gone to his reward. Look at that balloon, ladies and - gentlemen, and tell me if you can, why should the spirit of mortals be - proud? For the man that rode her like a master and tamed her like she was - a dove lies cold and dead in a western graveyard, ladies and gentlemen, - and she is here, a useless and an idle vanity without the mind that made - her go!” - </p> - <p> - Well, he went on and he told a funny story about Alonzo, which I don't - believe they ever was no Alonzo Ackerman, and a lot of 'em laughed; and he - told a pitiful story, and they got sollum agin, and then another funny - story. Well, he had 'em listening, and purty soon most of the crowd is - feeling in a good humour toward him, and one feller yells out: - </p> - <p> - “Go it—you're a hull show yourself!” And some joshes him, but they - don't seem to be no trouble in the air. When they all look to be in a good - humour he holds up a bill and asts how many has them. Many has. He says - that is well, and then he starts to telling another story. But in the - middle of the story that hull dern crowd is took with a fit of laughing. - They has looked at the bill closet, and seen they is sold, and is taking - it good-natured. And still shouting and laughing most of them begins to - start along off. And I thought all chancet of trouble was over with. But - it wasn't. - </p> - <p> - Fur they is always a natcheral born kicker everywhere, and they was one - here, too. - </p> - <p> - He was a lean feller with a sticking out jaw, and one of his eyes was in a - kind of a black pocket, and he was jest natcherally laying it off to about - a dozen fellers that was in a little knot around him. - </p> - <p> - The doctor sees the main part of the crowd going and climbs down off'n the - wagon. As he does so that hull bunch of about a dozen moves in under the - rope, and some more that was going out seen it, and stopped and come back. - </p> - <p> - “Perfessor,” says the man with the patch over his eye to Doctor Kirby, - “you say this man Ackerman is dead?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says the doctor, eying him over, “he's dead.” - </p> - <p> - “How did he die?” asts the feller. - </p> - <p> - “He died hard, I understand,” says the doctor, careless-like. - </p> - <p> - “Fell out of his balloon?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “This aeronaut trade is a dangerous trade, I hear,” says the feller with - the patch on his eye. - </p> - <p> - “They say so,” says Doctor Kirby, easy-like. - </p> - <p> - “Was you ever an aeronaut yourself?” asts the feller. - </p> - <p> - “No,” says the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “Never been up in a balloon?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you're going up in one this afternoon!” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” asts Doctor Kirby. - </p> - <p> - “We've come out to see a balloon ascension—and we're going to see - it, too.” - </p> - <p> - And with that the hull crowd made a rush at the doctor. - </p> - <p> - Well, I been in fights before that, and I been in fights since then. But I - never been in no harder one. The doctor and the two Blanchet brothers and - me managed to get backed up agin the fence in a row when the rush come. I - guess I done my share, and I guess the Blanchet brothers done theirn, too. - But they was too many of 'em for us—too dern many. It wouldn't of - ended as quick as it did if Doctor Kirby hadn't gone clean crazy. His back - was to the fence, and he cleaned out everything in front of him, and then - he give a wild roar jest like a bull and rushed that hull gang—twenty - men, they was—with his head down. He caught two fellers, one in each - hand, and he cracked their heads together, and he caught two more, and - done the same. But he orter never took his back away from that fence. The - hull gang closed in on him, and down he went at the bottom of a pile. I - was awful busy myself, but I seen that pile moving and churning. Then I - made a big mistake myself. I kicked a feller in the stomach, and another - feller caught my leg, and down I went. Fur a half a minute I never knowed - nothing. And when I come to I was all mashed about the face, and two - fellers was sitting on me. - </p> - <p> - The crowd was tying Doctor Kirby to that parachute. They straddled legs - over the parachute bar, and tied his feet below it. He was still fighting, - but they was too many fur him. They left his arms untied, but they held - 'em, and then— - </p> - <p> - Then they cut her loose. She went up like she was shot from a gun, and as - she did Doctor Kirby took a grip on a feller's arm that hadn't let loose - quick enough and lifted him plumb off'n the ground. He slewed around on - the trapeze bar with the feller's weight, and slipped head downward. And - as he slipped he give that feller a swing and let loose of him, and then - ketched himself by the crook of one knee. The feller turned over twicet in - the air and landed in a little crumpled-up pile on the ground, and never - made a sound. - </p> - <p> - The fellers that had holt of me forgot me and stood up, and I stood up - too, and looked. The balloon was rising fast. Doctor Kirby was trying to - pull himself up to the trapeze bar, twisting and squirming and having a - hard time of it, and shooting higher every second. I reckoned he couldn't - fall complete, fur where his feet was tied would likely hold even if his - knee come straight—but he would die mebby with his head filling up - with blood. But finally he made a squirm and raised himself a lot and - grabbed the rope at one side of the bar. And then he reached and got the - rope on the other side, and set straddle of her. And jest as he done that - the wind ketched the balloon good and hard, and she turned out toward Lake - Erie. It was too late fur him to pull the rope that sets the parachute - loose then, and drop onto the land. - </p> - <p> - I rushed out of that schoolhouse yard and down the street toward the lake - front, and run, stumbling along and looking up. She was getting smaller - every minute. And with my head in the air looking up I was running plumb - to the edge of the water before I knowed it. - </p> - <p> - She was away out over the lake now, and awful high, and going fast before - the wind, and the doctor was only a speck. And as I stared at that speck - away up in the sky I thought this was a mean world to live in. Fur there - was the only real friend I ever had, and no way fur me to help him. He had - learnt me to read, and bought me good clothes, and made me know they was - things in the world worth travelling around to see, and made me feel like - I was something more than jest Old Hank Walters's dog. And I guessed he - would be drownded and I would never see him agin now. And all of a sudden - something busted loose inside of me, and I sunk down there at the edge of - the water, sick at my stomach, and weak and shivering. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> didn't exactly - faint there, but things got all mixed fur me, and when they was - straightened out agin I was in a hospital. It seems I had been - considerable stepped on in that fight, and three ribs was broke. I knowed - I was hurting, but I was so interested in what was happening to the doctor - the hull hurt never come to me till the balloon was way out over the lake. - </p> - <p> - But now I was in a plaster cast, and before I got out of that I was in a - fever. I was some weeks getting out of there. - </p> - <p> - I tried to get some word of Doctor Kirby, but couldn't. Nothing had been - heard of him or the balloon. The newspapers had had stuff about it fur a - day or two, and they guessed the body might come to light sometime. But - that was all. And I didn't know where to hunt nor how. - </p> - <p> - The hosses and wagon and tent and things worried me some, too. They wasn't - mine, and so I couldn't sell 'em. And they wasn't no good to me without - Doctor Kirby. So I tells the man that owns the livery stable to use the - team fur its board and keep it till Doctor Kirby calls fur it, and if he - never does mebby I will sometime. - </p> - <p> - I didn't want to stay in that town or I could of got a job in the livery - stable. They offered me one, but I hated that town. I wanted to light out. - I didn't much care where to. - </p> - <p> - Them Blanchet Brothers had left a good share of the money we took in at - the balloon ascension with the hospital people fur me before they cleared - out. But before I left that there town I seen they was one thing I had to - do to make myself easy in my mind. So I done her. - </p> - <p> - That was to hunt up that feller with his eye in the patch. It took me a - week to find him. He lived down near some railroad yards. I might of - soaked him with a coupling link and felt a hull lot better. But I didn't - guess it would do to pet and pamper my feelings too much. So I does it - with my fists in a quiet place, and does it very complete, and leaves that - town in a cattle car, feeling a hull lot more contented in my mind. - </p> - <p> - Then they was a hull dern year I didn't stay nowhere very long, nor work - at any one job too long, neither. I jest worked from place to place seeing - things—big towns and rivers and mountains. Working here and there, - and loafing and riding blind baggages and freight trains between jobs, I - covered a lot of ground that year, and made some purty big jumps, and got - acquainted with some awful queer folks, first and last. - </p> - <p> - But the worst of that is lots of people gets to thinking I am a hobo. Even - one or two judges in police courts I got acquainted with had that there - idea of me. I always explains that I am not one, and am jest travelling - around to see things, and working when I feels like it, and ain't no bum. - But frequent I am not believed. And two, three different times I gets to - the place where I couldn't hardly of told myself from a hobo, if I hadn't - of knowed I wasn't one. - </p> - <p> - I got right well acquainted with some of them hobos, too. As fur as I can - see, they is as much difference in them as in other humans. Some travels - because they likes to see things, and some because they hates to work, and - some because they is in the habit and can't stop it. Well, I know myself - it's purty hard after while to stop it, fur where would you stop at? What - excuse is they to stop one place more'n another? I met all kinds of 'em, - and oncet I got in fur a week with a couple of real Johnny Yeggs that is - both in the pen now. I hearn a feller say one time there is some good in - every man. I went the same way as them two yeggmen a hull dern week to try - and find out where the good in 'em was. I guess they must be some mistake - somewheres, fur I looked hard and I watched closet and I never found it. - They is many kinds of hobos and tramps, perfessional and amachure, and - lots of kinds of bums, and lots of young fellers working their way around - to see things, like I was, and lots of working men in hard luck going from - place to place, and all them kinds is humans. But the real yeggman ain't - even a dog. - </p> - <p> - And oncet I went all the way from Chicago to Baltimore with a serious, - dern fool that said he was a soshyologest, whatever them is, and was going - to put her all into a book about the criminal classes. He worked hard - trying to get at the reason I was a hobo. Which they wasn't no reason, fur - I wasn't no hobo. But I didn't want to disappoint that feller and spoil - his book fur him. So I tells him things. Things not overly truthful, but - very full of crime. About a year afterward I was into one of these here - Andrew Carnegie lib'aries with the names of the old-time presidents all - chiselled along the top and I seen the hull dern thing in print. He said - of me the same thing I have said about them yeggmen. If all he met joshed - that feller the same as me, that book must of been what you might call - misleading in spots. - </p> - <p> - One morning I woke up in a good-sized town in Illinoise, not a hundred - miles from where I was raised, without no money, and my clothes not much - to look at, and no job. I had been with a railroad show fur about two - weeks, driving stakes and other rough work, and it had went off and left - me sleeping on the ground. Circuses never waits fur nothing nor cares a - dern fur no one. I tried all day around town fur to get some kind of a - job. But I was looking purty rough and I couldn't land nothing. Along in - the afternoon I was awful hungry. - </p> - <p> - I was feeling purty low down to have to ast fur a meal, but finally I done - it. - </p> - <p> - I dunno how I ever come to pick out such a swell-looking house, but I - makes a little talk at the back door and the Irish girl she says, “Come - in,” and into the kitchen I goes. - </p> - <p> - “It's Minnesota you're working toward?” asts she, pouring me out a cup of - coffee. - </p> - <p> - She is thinking of the wheat harvest where they is thousands makes fur - every fall. But none of 'em fur me. That there country is full of them - Scandiluvian Swedes and Norwegians, and they gets into the field before - daylight and stays there so long the hired man's got to milk the cows by - moonlight. - </p> - <p> - “I been acrost the river into I'way,” I says, “a-working at my trade, and - now I'm going back to Chicago to work at it some more.” - </p> - <p> - “What might your trade be?” she asts, sizing me up careful; and I thinks - I'll hand her one to chew on she ain't never hearn tell of before. - </p> - <p> - “I'm a agnostic by trade,” I says. I spotted that there word in a - religious book one time, and that's the first chancet I ever has to try it - on any one. You can't never tell what them reg'lar sockdologers is going - to do till you tries them. - </p> - <p> - “I see,” says she. But I seen she didn't see. And I didn't help her none. - She would of ruther died than to let on she didn't see. The Irish is like - that. Purty soon she says: - </p> - <p> - “Ain't that the dangerous kind o' work, though!” - </p> - <p> - “It is,” I says. And says nothing further. - </p> - <p> - She sets down and folds her arms, like she was thinking of it, watching my - hands closet all the time I was eating, like she's looking fur scars where - something slipped when I done that agnostic work. Purty soon she says: - </p> - <p> - “Me brother Michael was kilt at it in the old country. He was the most - vinturesome lad of thim all!” - </p> - <p> - “Did it fly up and hit him?” I asts her. I was wondering w'ether she is - making fun of me or am I making fun of her. Them Irish is like that, you - can never tell which. - </p> - <p> - “No,” says she, “he fell off of it. And I'm thinking you don't know what - it is yourself.” And the next thing I know I'm eased out o' the back door - and she's grinning at me scornful through the crack of it. - </p> - <p> - So I was walking slow around toward the front of the house thinking how - the Irish was a great nation, and what shall I do now, anyhow? And I says - to myself: “Danny, you was a fool to let that circus walk off and leave - you asleep in this here town with nothing over you but a barbed wire fence - this morning. Fur what <i>are</i> you going to do next? First thing you - know, you <i>will</i> be a reg'lar tramp, which some folks can't be made - to see you ain't now.” And jest when I was thinking that, a feller comes - down the front steps of that house on the jump and nabs me by the coat - collar. - </p> - <p> - “Did you come out of this house?” he asts. - </p> - <p> - “I did,” I says, wondering what next. - </p> - <p> - “Back in you go, then,” he says, marching me forward toward them front - steps, “they've got smallpox in there.” - </p> - <p> - I like to of jumped loose when he says that. - </p> - <p> - “Smallpox ain't no inducement to me, mister,” I tells him. But he twisted - my coat collar tight and dug his thumbs into my neck, all the time helping - me onward with his knee from behind, and I seen they wasn't no use pulling - back. I could probable of licked that man, but they's no system in mixing - up with them well-dressed men in towns where they think you are a tramp. - The judge will give you the worst of it. - </p> - <p> - He rung the door bell and the girl that opened the door she looked kind o' - surprised when she seen me, and in we went. - </p> - <p> - “Tell Professor Booth that Doctor Wilkins wants to see him again,” says - the man a-holt o' me, not letting loose none. And we says nothing further - till the perfessor comes, which he does, slow and absent-minded. When he - seen me he took off his glasses so's he could see me better, and he says: - </p> - <p> - “What is that you have there, Doctor Wilkins?” - </p> - <p> - “A guest for you,” says Doctor Wilkins, grinning all over hisself. “I - found him leaving your house. And you being under quarantine, and me being - secretary to the board of health, and the city pest-house being crowded - too full already, I'll have to ask you to keep him here till we get Miss - Margery onto her feet again,” he says. Or they was words to that effect, - as the lawyers asts you. - </p> - <p> - “Dear me,” says Perfesser Booth, kind o' helpless like. And he comes over - closet to me and looks me all over like I was one of them amphimissourian - lizards in a free museum. And then he goes to the foot of the stairs and - sings out in a voice that was so bleached-out and flat-chested it would of - looked jest like him himself if you could of saw it—“Estelle,” he - sings out, “oh, Estelle!” - </p> - <p> - Estelle, she come down stairs looking like she was the perfessor's big - brother. I found out later she was his old maid sister. She wasn't no - spring chicken, Estelle wasn't, and they was a continuous grin on her - face. I figgered it must of froze there years and years ago. They was a - kid about ten or eleven years old come along down with her, that had hair - down to its shoulders and didn't look like it knowed whether it was a girl - or a boy. Miss Estelle, she looks me over in a way that makes me shiver, - while the doctor and the perfessor jaws about whose fault it is the - smallpox sign ain't been hung out. And when she was done listening she - says to the perfessor: “You had better go back to your laboratory.” And - the perfessor he went along out, and the doctor with him. - </p> - <p> - “What are you going to do with him, Aunt Estelle?” the kid asts her. - </p> - <p> - “What would <i>you</i> suggest, William, Dear?” asts his aunt. I ain't - feeling very comfortable, and I was getting all ready jest to natcherally - bolt out the front door now the doctor was gone. Then I thinks it mightn't - be no bad place to stay in fur a couple o' days, even risking the - smallpox. Fur I had riccolected I couldn't ketch it nohow, having been - vaccinated a few months before in Terry Hutt by compulsive medical advice, - me being fur a while doing some work on the city pavements through a - mistake about me in the police court. - </p> - <p> - William Dear looks at me like it was the day of judgment and his job was - to keep the fatted calves separate from the goats and prodigals, and he - says: - </p> - <p> - “If I were you, Aunt Estelle, the first thing would be to get his hair cut - and his face washed and then get him some clothes.” - </p> - <p> - “William Dear is my friend,” thinks I. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0171.jpg" alt="0171 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0171.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - She calls James, which was a butler. James, he buttles me into a bathroom - the like o' which I never seen afore, and then he buttles me into a suit - o' somebody's clothes and into a room at the top o' the house next to - his'n, and then he comes back and buttles a comb and brush at me. James - was the most mournful-looking fat man I ever seen, and he says that - account of me not being respectable I will have my meals alone in the - kitchen after the servants has eat. - </p> - <p> - The first thing I knowed I been in that house more'n a week. I eat and I - slept and I smoked and I kind of enjoyed not worrying about things fur a - while. The only oncomfortable thing about being the perfessor's guest was - Miss Estelle. Soon's she found out I was a agnostic she took charge o' my - intellectuals and what went into 'em, and she makes me read things and - asts me about 'em, and she says she is going fur to reform me. And - whatever brand o' disgrace them there agnostics really is I ain't found - out to this day, having come acrost the word accidental. - </p> - <p> - Biddy Malone, which was the kitchen mechanic, she says the perfessor's - wife's been over to her mother's while this smallpox has been going on, - and they is a nurse in the house looking after Miss Margery, the little - kid that's sick. And Biddy, she says if she was Mrs. Booth she'd stay - there, too. They's been some talk, anyhow, about Mrs. Booth and a musician - feller around that there town. But Biddy, she likes Mrs. Booth, and even - if it was true, which it ain't Biddy says, who could of blamed her? Fur - things ain't joyous around that house the last year, since Miss Estelle's - come there to live. The perfessor, he's so full of scientifics he don't - know nothing with no sense to it, Biddy says. He's got more money'n you - can shake a stick at, and he don't have to do no work, nor never has, and - his scientifics gets worse and worse every year. But while scientifics is - worrying to the nerves of a fambly, and while his labertory often makes - the house smell like a sick drug store has crawled into it and died there, - they wouldn't of been no serious row on between the perfessor and his - wife, not <i>all</i> the time, if it hadn't of been fur Miss Estelle. She - has jest natcherally made herself boss of that there house, Biddy says, - and she's a she-devil. Between all them scientifics and Miss Estelle - things has got where Mrs. Booth can't stand 'em much longer. - </p> - <p> - I didn't blame her none fur getting sore on her job, neither. You can't - expect a woman that's purty, and knows it, and ain't no more'n thirty-two - or three, and don't look it, to be serious intrusted in mummies and - pickled snakes and chemical perfusions, not <i>all</i> the time. Mebby - when Mrs. Booth would ast him if he was going to take her to the opery - that night the perfessor would look up in an absent-minded sort of way and - ast her did she know them Germans had invented a new germ? It wouldn't of - been so bad if the perfessor had picked out jest one brand of scientifics - and stuck to that reg'lar. Mrs. Booth could of got use to any <i>one</i> - kind. But mebby this week the perfessor would be took hard with - ornithography and he'd go chasing humming-birds all over the front yard, - and the next he'd be putting gastronomy into William's breakfast feed. - </p> - <p> - They was always a row on over them kids, which they hadn't been till Miss - Estelle come. Mrs. Booth, she said they could kill their own selves, if - they wanted to, him and Miss Estelle, but she had more right than any one - else to say what went into William's and Margery's digestive ornaments, - and she didn't want 'em brung up scientific nohow, but jest human. But - Miss Estelle's got so she runs that hull house now, and the perfessor too, - but he don't know it, Biddy says, and her a-saying every now and then it - was too bad Frederick couldn't of married a noble woman who would of took - a serious intrust in his work. The kids don't hardly dare to kiss their ma - in front of Miss Estelle no more, on account of germs and things. And with - Miss Estelle taking care of their religious organs and their intellectuals - and the things like that, and the perfessor filling them up on new - invented feeds, I guess they never was two kids got more education to the - square inch, outside and in. It hadn't worked none on Miss Margery yet, - her being younger, but William Dear he took it hard and serious, and it - made bumps all over his head, and he was kind o' pale and spindly. Every - time that kid cut his finger he jest natcherally bled scientifics. One day - I says to Miss Estelle, says I: - </p> - <p> - “It looks to me like William Dear is kind of peaked.” She looks worried - and she looks mad fur me lipping in, and then she says mebby it is true, - but she don't see why, because he is being brung up like he orter be in - every way and no expense nor trouble spared. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says I, “what a kid about that size wants to do is to get out and - roll around in the dirt some, and yell and holler.” - </p> - <p> - She sniffs like I wasn't worth taking no notice of. But it kind o' soaked - in, too. She and the perfessor must of talked it over. Fur the next day I - seen her spreading a oilcloth on the hall floor. And then James comes a - buttling in with a lot of sand what the perfessor has baked and made all - scientific down in his labertory. James, he pours all that nice, clean - dirt onto the oilcloth and then Miss Estelle sends fur William Dear. - </p> - <p> - “William Dear,” she says, “we have decided, your papa and I, that what you - need is more romping around and playing along with your studies. You ought - to get closer to the soil and to nature, as is more healthy for a youth of - your age. So for an hour each day, between your studies, you will romp and - play in this sand. You may begin to frolic now, William Dear, and then - James will sweep up the dirt again for to-morrow's frolic.” - </p> - <p> - But William didn't frolic none. He jest looked at that dirt in a sad kind - o' way, and he says very serious but very decided: - </p> - <p> - “Aunt Estelle, I shall <i>not</i> frolic.” And they had to let it go at - that, fur he never would frolic none, neither. And all that nice clean - dirt was throwed out in the back yard along with the unscientific dirt. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ne night when I've - been there more'n a week, and am getting kind o' tired staying in one - place so long, I don't want to go to bed after I eats, and I gets a-holt - of some of the perfessor's cigars and goes into the lib'ary to see if he's - got anything fit to read. Setting there thinking of the awful remarkable - people they is in this world I must of went to sleep. Purty soon, in my - sleep, I hearn two voices. Then I waked up sudden, and still hearn 'em, - low and quicklike, in the room that opens right off of the lib'ary with a - couple of them sliding doors like is onto a box car. One voice was a - woman's voice, and it wasn't Miss Estelle's. - </p> - <p> - “But I <i>must</i> see them before we go, Henry,” she says. - </p> - <p> - And the other was a man's voice and it wasn't no one around our house. - </p> - <p> - “But, my God,” he says, “suppose you get it yourself, Jane!” - </p> - <p> - I set up straight then, fur Jane was the perfessor's wife's first name. - </p> - <p> - “You mean suppose <i>you</i> get it,” she says. I like to of seen the look - she must of give him to fit in with the way she says that <i>you</i>. He - didn't say nothing, the man didn't; and then her voice softens down some, - and she says, low and slow: “Henry, wouldn't you love me if I <i>did</i> - get it? Suppose it marked and pitted me all up?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, of course,” he says, “of course I would. Nothing can change the way I - feel. <i>You</i> know that.” He said it quick enough, all right, jest the - way they does in a show, but it sounded <i>too much</i> like it does on - the stage to of suited me if <i>I</i>'d been her. I seen folks overdo them - little talks before this. - </p> - <p> - I listens some more, and then I sees how it is. This is that musician - feller Biddy Malone's been talking about. Jane's going to run off with him - all right, but she's got to kiss the kids first. Women is like that. They - may hate the kids' pa all right, but they's dad-burned few of 'em don't - like the kids. I thinks to myself: “It must be late. I bet they was - already started, or ready to start, and she made him bring her here first - so's she could sneak in and see the kids. She jest simply couldn't get by. - But she's taking a fool risk, too. Fur how's she going to see Margery with - that nurse coming and going and hanging around all night? And even if she - tries jest to see William Dear it's a ten to one shot he'll wake up and - she'll be ketched at it.” - </p> - <p> - And then I thinks, suppose she <i>is</i> ketched at it? What of it? Ain't - a woman got a right to come into her own house with her own door key, even - if they is a quarantine onto it, and see her kids? And if she is ketched - seeing them, how would any one know she was going to run off? And ain't - she got a right to have a friend of hern and her husband's bring her over - from her mother's house, even if it is a little late? - </p> - <p> - Then I seen she wasn't taking no great risks neither, and I thinks mebby I - better go and tell that perfessor what is going on, fur he has treated me - purty white. And then I thinks: “I'll be gosh-derned if I meddle. So fur - as I can see that there perfessor ain't getting fur from what's coming to - him, nohow. And as fur <i>her</i>, you got to let some people find out - what they want fur theirselves. Anyhow, where do <i>I</i> come in at?” - </p> - <p> - But I want to get a look at her and Henry, anyhow. So I eases off my - shoes, careful-like, and I eases acrost the floor to them sliding doors, - and I puts my eye down to the little crack. The talk is going backward and - forward between them two, him wanting her to come away quick, and her - undecided whether to risk seeing the kids. And all the time she's kind o' - hoping mebby she will be ketched if she tries to see the kids, and she's - begging off fur more time ginerally. - </p> - <p> - Well, sir, I didn't blame that musician feller none when I seen her. She - was a peach. - </p> - <p> - And I couldn't blame her so much, neither, when I thought of Miss Estelle - and all them scientifics of the perfessor's strung out fur years and years - world without end. - </p> - <p> - Yet, when I seen the man, I sort o' wished she wouldn't. I seen right off - that Henry wouldn't do. It takes a man with a lot of gumption to keep a - woman feeling good and not sorry fur doing it when he's married to her. - But it takes a man with twicet as much to make her feel right when they - ain't married. This feller wears one of them little, brown, pointed beards - fur to hide where his chin ain't. And his eyes is too much like a woman's. - Which is the kind that gets the biggest piece of pie at the lunch counter - and fergits to thank the girl as cuts it big. She was setting in front of - a table, twisting her fingers together, and he was walking up and down. I - seen he was mad and trying not to show it, and I seen he was scared of the - smallpox and trying not to show that, too. And jest about that time - something happened that kind o' jolted me. - </p> - <p> - They was one of them big chairs in the room where they was that has got a - high back and spins around on itself. It was right acrost from me, on the - other side of the room, and it was facing the front window, which was a - bow window. And that there chair begins to turn, slow and easy. First I - thought she wasn't turning. Then I seen she was. But Jane and Henry - didn't. They was all took up with each other in the middle of the room, - with their backs to it. - </p> - <p> - Henry is a-begging of Jane, and she turns a little more, that chair does. - Will she squeak, I wonders? - </p> - <p> - “Don't you be a fool, Jane,” says the Henry feller. - </p> - <p> - Around she comes three hull inches, that there chair, and nary a squeak. - </p> - <p> - “A fool?” asts Jane, and laughs. “And I'm not a fool to think of going - with you at all, then?” - </p> - <p> - That chair, she moved six inches more and I seen the calf of a leg and - part of a crumpled-up coat tail. - </p> - <p> - “But I <i>am</i> going with you, Henry,” says Jane. And she gets up jest - like she is going to put her arms around him. - </p> - <p> - But Jane don't. Fur that chair swings clear around and there sets the - perfessor. He's all hunched up and caved in and he's rubbing his eyes like - he's jest woke up recent, and he's got a grin onto his face that makes him - look like his sister Estelle looks all the time. - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me,” says the perfessor. - </p> - <p> - They both swings around and faces him. I can hear my heart bumping. Jane - never says a word. The man with the brown beard never says a word. But if - they felt like me they both felt like laying right down there and having a - fit. They looks at him and he jest sets there and grins at them. - </p> - <p> - But after a while Jane, she says: - </p> - <p> - “Well, now you <i>know!</i> What are you going to do about it?” - </p> - <p> - Henry, he starts to say something too. But— - </p> - <p> - “Don't start anything,” says the perfessor to him. “<i>You</i> aren't - going to do anything.” Or they was words to that effect. - </p> - <p> - “Professor Booth,” he says, seeing he has got to say something or else - Jane will think the worse of him, “I am—” - </p> - <p> - “Keep still,” says the perfessor, real quiet. “I'll tend to you in a - minute or two. <i>You</i> don't count for much. This thing is mostly - between me and my wife.” - </p> - <p> - When he talks so decided I thinks mebby that perfessor has got something - into him besides science after all. Jane, she looks kind o' surprised - herself. But she says nothing, except: - </p> - <p> - “What are you going to do, Frederick?” And she laughs one of them mean - kind of laughs, and looks at Henry like she wanted him to spunk up a - little more, and says: “What <i>can</i> you do, Frederick?” - </p> - <p> - Frederick, he says, not excited a bit: - </p> - <p> - “There's quite a number of things I <i>could</i> do that would look bad - when they got into the newspapers. But it's none of them, unless one of - you forces me to it.” Then he says: - </p> - <p> - “You <i>did</i> want to see the children, Jane?” - </p> - <p> - She nodded. - </p> - <p> - “Jane,” he says, “can't you see I'm the better man?” - </p> - <p> - The perfessor, he was woke up after all them years of scientifics, and he - didn't want to see her go. “Look at him,” he says, pointing to the feller - with the brown beard, “he's scared stiff right now.” - </p> - <p> - Which I would of been scared myself if I'd a-been ketched that-a-way like - Henry was, and the perfessor's voice sounding like you was chopping ice - every time he spoke. I seen the perfessor didn't want to have no blood on - the carpet without he had to have it, but I seen he was making up his mind - about something, too. Jane, she says: - </p> - <p> - “<i>You</i> a better man? <i>You</i>? You think you've been a model - husband just because you've never beaten me, don't you?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” says the perfessor, “I've been a blamed fool all right. I've been a - worse fool, maybe, than if I <i>had</i> beaten you.” Then he turns to - Henry and he says: - </p> - <p> - “Duels are out of fashion, aren't they? And a plain killing looks bad in - the papers, doesn't it? Well, you just wait for me.” With which he gets up - and trots out, and I hearn him running down stairs to his labertory. - </p> - <p> - Henry, he'd ruther go now. He don't want to wait. But with Jane a-looking - at him he's shamed not to wait. It's his place to make some kind of a - strong action now to show Jane he is a great man. But he don't do it. And - Jane is too much of a thoroughbred to show him she expects it. And me, I'm - getting the fidgets and wondering to myself, “What is that there perfessor - up to now? Whatever it is, it ain't like no one else. He is looney, that - perfessor is. And she is kind o' looney, too. I wonder if they is any one - that ain't looney sometimes?” I been around the country a good 'eal, too, - and seen and hearn of some awful remarkable things, and I never seen no - one that wasn't more or less looney when the <i>search us the femm</i> - comes into the case. Which is a Dago word I got out'n a newspaper and it - means: “Who was the dead gent's lady friend?” And we all set and sweat and - got the fidgets waiting fur that perfessor to come back. - </p> - <p> - Which he done with that Sister Estelle grin onto his face and a pill box - in his hand. They was two pills in the box. He says, placid and chilly: - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, duels are out of fashion. This is the age of science. All the - same, the one that gets her has got to fight for her. If she isn't worth - fighting for, she isn't worth having. Here are two pills. I made 'em - myself. One has enough poison in it to kill a regiment when it gets to - working well—which it does fifteen minutes after it is taken. The - other one has got nothing harmful in it. If you get the poison one, I keep - her. If I get it, you can have her. Only I hope you will wait long enough - after I'm dead so there won't be any scandal around town.” - </p> - <p> - Henry, he never said a word. He opened his mouth, but nothing come of it. - When he done that I thought I hearn his tongue scrape agin his cheek on - the inside like a piece of sand-paper. He was scared, Henry was. - </p> - <p> - “But <i>you</i> know which is which,” Jane sings out. “The thing's not - fair!” - </p> - <p> - “That is the reason my dear Jane is going to shuffle these pills around - each other herself,” says the perfessor, “and then pick out one for him - and one for me. <i>You</i> don't know which is which, Jane. And as he is - the favourite, he is going to get the first chance. If he gets the one I - want him to get, he will have just fifteen minutes to live after taking - it. In that fifteen minutes he will please to walk so far from my house - that he won't die near it and make a scandal. I won't have a scandal - without I have to. Everything is going to be nice and quiet and - respectable. The effect of the poison is similar to heart failure. No one - can tell the difference on the corpse. There's going to be no blood - anywhere. I will be found dead in my house in the morning with heart - failure, or else he will be picked up dead in the street, far enough away - so as to make no talk.” Or they was words to that effect. - </p> - <p> - He is rubbing it in considerable, I thinks, that perfessor is. I wonder if - I better jump in and stop the hull thing. Then I thinks: “No, it's between - them three.” Besides, I want to see which one is going to get that there - loaded pill. I always been intrusted in games of chancet of all kinds, and - when I seen the perfessor was such a sport, I'm sorry I been misjudging - him all this time. - </p> - <p> - Jane, she looks at the box, and she breathes hard and quick. - </p> - <p> - “I won't touch 'em,” she says. “I refuse to be a party to any murder of - that kind.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh? You do?” says the perfessor. “But the time when you might have - refused has gone by. You have made yourself a party to it already. You're - really the <i>main</i> party to it. - </p> - <p> - “But do as you like,” he goes on. “I'm giving him more chance than I ought - to with those pills. I might shoot him, and I would, and then face the - music, if it wasn't for mixing the children up in the scandal, Jane. If - you want to see him get a fair chance, Jane, you've got to hand out these - pills, one to him and then one to me. <i>You</i> must kill one or the - other of us, or else <i>I'll kill him</i> the other way. And <i>you</i> - had better pick one out for him, because <i>I</i> know which is which. Or - else let him pick one out for himself,” he says. - </p> - <p> - Henry, he wasn't saying nothing. I thought he had fainted. But he hadn't. - I seen him licking his lips. I bet Henry's mouth was all dry inside. - </p> - <p> - Jane, she took the box and she went round in front of Henry and she looked - at him hard. She looked at him like she was thinking: “Fur God's sake, - spunk up some, and take one if it <i>does</i> kill you!” Then she says out - loud: “Henry, if you die I will die, too!” - </p> - <p> - And Henry, he took one. His hand shook, but he took it out'n the box. If - she had of looked like that at me mebby I would of took one myself. Fur - Jane, she was a peach, she was. But I don't know whether I would of or - not. When she makes that brag about dying, I looked at the perfessor. What - she said never fazed him. And I thinks agin: “Mebby I better jump in now - and stop this thing.” And then I thinks agin: “No, it is between them - three and Providence.” Besides, I'm anxious to see who is going to get - that pill with the science in it. I gets to feeling jest like Providence - hisself was in that there room picking out them pills with his own hands. - And I was anxious to see what Providence's ideas of right and wrong was - like. So fur as I could see they was all three in the wrong, but if I had - of been in there running them pills in Providence's place I would of let - them all off kind o' easy. - </p> - <p> - Henry, he ain't eat his pill yet. He is jest looking at it and shaking. - The perfessor pulls out his watch and lays it on the table. - </p> - <p> - “It is a quarter past eleven,” he says. “Mr. Murray, are you going to make - me shoot you, after all? I didn't want a scandal,” he says. “It's for you - to say whether you want to eat that pill and get your even chance, or - whether you want to get shot. The shooting method is sure, but it causes - talk. These pills won't <i>which</i>?” - </p> - <p> - And he pulls a revolver. Which I suppose he had got that too when he went - down after them pills. - </p> - <p> - Henry, he looks at the gun. - </p> - <p> - Then he looks at the pill. - </p> - <p> - Then he swallers the pill. - </p> - <p> - The perfessor puts his gun back into his pocket, and then he puts his pill - into his mouth. He don't swaller it. He looks at the watch, and he looks - at Henry. - </p> - <p> - “Sixteen minutes past eleven,” he says. “<i>At exactly twenty-nine minutes - to twelve Mr. Murray will be dead</i>. I got the harmless one. I can tell - by the taste.” - </p> - <p> - And he put the pieces out into his hand, to show that he has chewed his'n - up, not being willing to wait fifteen minutes fur a verdict from his - digestive ornaments. Then he put them pieces back into his mouth and - chewed 'em up and swallered 'em down like he was eating cough drops. - </p> - <p> - Henry has got sweat breaking out all over his face, and he tries to make - fur the door, but he falls down onto a sofa. - </p> - <p> - “This is murder,” he says, weak-like. And he tries to get up again, but - this time he falls to the floor in a dead faint. - </p> - <p> - “It's a dern short fifteen minutes,” I thinks to myself. “That perfessor - must of put more science into Henry's pill than he thought he did fur it - to of knocked him out this quick. It ain't skeercly three minutes.” - </p> - <p> - When Henry falls the woman staggers and tries to throw herself on top of - him. The corners of her mouth was all drawed down, and her eyes was turned - up. But she don't yell none. She can't. She tries, but she jest gurgles in - her throat. The perfessor won't let her fall acrost Henry. He ketches her. - “Sit up, Jane,” he says, with that Estelle look onto his face, “and let us - have a talk.” - </p> - <p> - She looks at him with no more sense in her face than a piece of putty has - got. But she can't look away from him. - </p> - <p> - And I'm kind o' paralyzed, too. If that feller laying on the floor had - only jest kicked oncet, or grunted, or done something, I could of loosened - up and yelled, and I would of. I jest <i>needed</i> to fetch a yell. But - Henry ain't more'n dropped down there till I'm feeling jest like he'd <i>always</i> - been there, and I'd <i>always</i> been staring into that room, and the - last word any one spoke was said hundreds and hundreds of years ago. - </p> - <p> - “You're a murderer,” says Jane in a whisper, looking at the perfessor in - that stare-eyed way. “You're a <i>murderer</i>,” she says, saying it like - she was trying to make herself feel sure he really was one. - </p> - <p> - “Murder!” says the perfessor. “Did you think I was going to run any - chances for a pup like him? He's scared, that's all. He's just fainted - through fright. He's a coward. Those pills were both just bread and sugar. - He'll be all right in a minute or two. I've just been showing you that the - fellow hasn't got nerve enough nor brains enough for a fine woman like - you, Jane,” he says. - </p> - <p> - Then Jane begins to sob and laugh, both to oncet, kind o' wild like, her - voice clucking like a hen does, and she says: - </p> - <p> - “It's worse then, it's worse! It's worse for me than if it were a murder! - Some farces can be more tragic than any tragedy ever was,” she says. Or - they was words to that effect. - </p> - <p> - And if Henry had of been really dead she couldn't of took it no harder - than she begun to take it now when she saw he was alive, but jest wasn't - no good. But I seen she was taking on fur herself now more'n fur Henry. - Doctor Kirby always use to say women is made unlike most other animals in - many ways. When they is foolish about a man they can stand to have that - man killed a good 'eal better than to have him showed up ridiculous right - in front of them. They will still be crazy about the man that is dead, - even if he was crooked. But they don't never forgive the fellow that lets - himself be made a fool and lets them look foolish, too. And when the - perfessor kicks Henry in the ribs, and Henry comes to and sneaks out, - Jane, she never even turns her head and looks at him. - </p> - <p> - “Jane,” says the perfessor, when she quiets down some, “you have a lot o' - things to forgive me. But do you suppose I have learned enough so that we - can make a go of it if we start all over again?” - </p> - <p> - But Jane she never said nothing. - </p> - <p> - “Jane,” he says, “Estelle is going back to New England, as soon as Margery - gets well, and she will stay there for good.” - </p> - <p> - Jane, she begins to take a little intrust then. - </p> - <p> - “Did Estelle tell you so?” she asts. - </p> - <p> - “No,” says the perfessor. “Estelle doesn't know it yet. I'm going to break - the news to her in the morning.” - </p> - <p> - But Jane still hates him. She's making herself hate him hard. She wouldn't - of been a human woman if she had let herself be coaxed up all to oncet. - Purty soon she says: “I'm tired.” And she went out looking like the - perfessor was a perfect stranger. She was a peace, Jane was. - </p> - <p> - After she left, the perfessor set there quite a spell and smoked. And he - was looking tired out, too. They wasn't no mistake about me. I was jest - dead all through my legs. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> was down in the - perfessor's labertory one day, and that was a queer place. They was every - kind of scientifics that has ever been discovered in it. Some was pickled - in bottles and some was stuffed and some was pinned to the walls with - their wings spread out. If you took hold of anything, it was likely to be - a skull and give you the shivers or some electric contraption and shock - you; and if you tipped over a jar and it broke, enough germs might get - loose to slaughter a hull town. I was helping the perfessor to unpack a - lot of stuff some friends had sent him, and I noticed a bottle that had - onto it, blowed in the glass: - </p> - <h3> - DANIEL, DUNNE AND COMPANY - </h3> - <p> - “That's funny,” says I, out loud. - </p> - <p> - “What is?” asts the perfessor. - </p> - <p> - I showed him the bottle and told him how I was named after the company - that made 'em. He says to look around me. They is all kinds of glassware - in that room—bottles and jars and queer-shaped things with crooked - tails and noses—and nigh every piece of glass the perfessor owns is - made by that company. - </p> - <p> - “Why,” says the perfessor, “their factory is in this very town.” - </p> - <p> - And nothing would do fur me but I must go and see that factory. I couldn't - till the quarantine was pried loose from our house. But when it was, I - went down town and hunted up the place and looked her over. - </p> - <p> - It was a big factory, and I was kind of proud of that. I was glad she - wasn't no measly, little, old-fashioned, run-down concern. Of course, I - wasn't really no relation to it and it wasn't none to me. But I was named - fur it, too, and it come about as near to being a fambly as anything I had - ever had or was likely to find. So I was proud it seemed to be doing so - well. - </p> - <p> - I thinks as I looks at her of the thousands and thousands of bottles that - has been coming out of there fur years and years, and will be fur years - and years to come. And one bottle not so much different from another one. - And all that was really knowed about me was jest the name on one out of - all them millions and millions of bottles. It made me feel kind of queer, - when I thought of that, as if I didn't have no separate place in the world - any more than one of them millions of bottles. If any one will shut his - eyes and say his own name over and over agin fur quite a spell, he will - get kind of wonderized and mesmerized a-doing it—he will begin to - wonder who the dickens he is, anyhow, and what he is, and what the - difference between him and the next feller is. He will wonder why he - happens to be himself and the next feller <i>himself</i>. He wonders where - himself leaves off and the rest of the world begins. I been that way - myself—all wonderized, so that I felt jest like I was a melting - piece of the hull creation, and it was all shifting and drifting and - changing and flowing, and not solid anywhere, and I could hardly keep - myself from flowing into it. It makes a person feel awful queer, like - seeing a ghost would. It makes him feel like <i>he</i> wasn't no solider - than a ghost himself. Well, if you ever done that and got that feeling, - you <i>know</i> what I mean. All of a sudden, when I am trying to take in - all them millions and millions of bottles, it rushed onto me, that - feeling, strong. Thinking of them bottles had somehow brung it on. The - bigness of the hull creation, and the smallness of me, and the gait at - which everything was racing and rushing ahead, made me want to grab hold - of something solid and hang on. - </p> - <p> - I reached out my hand, and it hit something solid all right. It was a - feller who was wheeling out a hand truck loaded with boxes from the - shipping department. I had been standing by the shipping department door, - and I reached right agin him. - </p> - <p> - He wants to know if I am drunk or a blanked fool. So after some talk of - that kind I borrows a chew of tobacco of him and we gets right well - acquainted. - </p> - <p> - I helped him finish loading his wagon and rode over to the freight depot - with him and helped him unload her. Lifting one of them boxes down from - the wagon I got such a shock I like to of dropped her. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0197.jpg" alt="0197 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0197.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Fur she was marked so many dozen, glass, handle with care, and she was - addressed to Dr. Hartley L. Kirby, Atlanta, Ga. - </p> - <p> - I managed to get that box onto the platform without busting her, and then - I sets down on top of her awful weak. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter?” asts the feller I was with. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” says I. - </p> - <p> - “You look sick,” he says. And I <i>was</i> feeling that-a-way. - </p> - <p> - “Mebby I do,” says I, “and it's enough to shake a feller up to find a dead - man come to life sudden like this.” - </p> - <p> - “Great snakes, no!” says he, looking all around, “where?” - </p> - <p> - But I didn't stop to chew the rag none. I left him right there, with his - mouth wide open, staring after me like I was crazy. Half a block away I - looked back and I seen him double over and slap his knee and laugh loud, - like he had hearn a big joke, but what he was laughing at I never knew. - </p> - <p> - I was tickled. Tickled? Jest so tickled I was plumb foolish with it. The - doctor was alive after all—I kept saying it over and over to myself—he - hadn't drownded nor blowed away. And I was going to hunt him up. - </p> - <p> - I had a little money. The perfessor had paid it to me. He had give me a - job helping take care of his hosses and things like that, and wanted me to - stay, and I had been thinking mebby I would fur a while. But not now! - </p> - <p> - I calkelated I could grab a ride that very night that would put me into - Evansville the next morning. I figgered if I ketched a through freight - from there on the next night I might get where he was almost as quick as - them bottles did. - </p> - <p> - I didn't think it was no use writing out my resignation fur the perfessor. - But I got quite a bit of grub from Biddy Malone to make a start on, fur I - didn't figger on spending no more money than I had to on grub. She asts me - a lot of questions, and I had to lie to her a good deal, but I got the - grub. And at ten that night I was in an empty bumping along south, along - with a cross-eyed feller named Looney Hogan who happened to be travelling - the same way. - </p> - <p> - Riding on trains without paying fare ain't always the easy thing it - sounds. It is like a trade that has got to be learned. They is different - ways of doing it. I have done every way frequent, except one. That I give - up after trying her two, three times. That is riding the rods down - underneath the cars, with a piece of board put acrost 'em to lay yourself - on. - </p> - <p> - I never want to go <i>anywheres</i> agin bad enough to ride the rods. - </p> - <p> - Because sometimes you arrive where you are going to partly smeared over - the trucks and in no condition fur to be made welcome to our city, as - Doctor Kirby would say. Sometimes you don't arrive. Every oncet in a while - you read a little piece in a newspaper about a man being found alongside - the tracks, considerable cut up, or laying right acrost them, mebby. He is - held in the morgue a while and no one knows who he is, and none of the - train crew knows they has run over a man, and the engineer says they - wasn't none on the track. More'n likely that feller has been riding the - rods, along about the middle of the train. Mebby he let himself go to - sleep and jest rolled off. Mebby his piece of board slipped and he fell - when the train jolted. Or mebby he jest natcherally made up his mind he - rather let loose and get squashed then get any more cinders into his eyes. - Riding the blind baggage or the bumpers gives me all the excitement I - wants, or all the gambling chancet either; others can have the rods fur - all of me. And they <i>is</i> some people ackshally says they likes 'em - best. - </p> - <p> - A good place, if it is winter time, is the feed rack over a cattle car, - fur the heat and steam from all them steers in there will keep you warm. - But don't crawl in no lumber car that is only loaded about half full, and - short lengths and bundles of laths and shingles in her; fur they is likely - to get to shifting and bumping. Baled hay is purty good sometimes. Myself, - not being like these bums that is too proud to work, I have often helped - the fireman shovel coal and paid fur my ride that-a-way. But an empty, fur - gineral purposes, will do about as well as anything. - </p> - <p> - This feller Looney Hogan that was with me was a kind of a harmless - critter, and he didn't know jest where he was going, nor why. He was - mostly scared of things, and if you spoke to him quick he shivered first - and then grinned idiotic so you wouldn't kick him, and when he talked he - had a silly little giggle. He had been made that-a-way in a reform school - where they took him young and tried to work the cussedness out'n him by - batting him around. They worked it out, and purty nigh everything else - along with it, I guess. Looney had had a pardner whose name was Slim, he - said; but a couple of years before Slim had fell overboard off'n a barge - up to Duluth and never come up agin. Looney knowed Slim was drownded all - right, but he was always travelling around looking at tanks and freight - depots and switch shanties, fur Slim's mark to be fresh cut with a knife - somewheres, so he would know where to foller and ketch up with him agin. - He knowed he would never find Slim's mark, he said, but he kept a-looking, - and he guessed that was the way he got the name of Looney. - </p> - <p> - Looney left me at Evansville. He said he was going east from there, he - guessed. And I went along south. But I was hindered considerable, being - put off of trains three or four times, and having to grab these here slow - local freights between towns all the way down through Kentuckey. Anywheres - south of the Ohio River and east of the Mississippi River trainmen is - grouchier to them they thinks is bums than north of it, anyhow. And in - some parts of it, if a real bum gets pinched, heaven help 'im, fur nothing - else won't. - </p> - <p> - One night, between twelve and one o'clock, I was put off of a freight - train fur the second time in a place in the northern part of Tennessee, - right near the Kentuckey line. I set down in a lumber yard near the - railroad track, and when she started up agin I grabbed onto the iron - ladder and swung myself aboard. But the brakeman was watching fur me, and - clumb down the ladder and stamped on my fingers. So I dropped off, with - one finger considerable mashed, and set down in that lumber yard wondering - what next. - </p> - <p> - It was a dark night, and so fur as I could see they wasn't much moving in - that town. Only a few places was lit up. One was way acrost the town - square from me, and it was the telephone exchange, with a man operator - reading a book in there. The other was the telegraph room in the depot - about a hundred yards from me, and they was only two fellers in it, both - smoking. The main business part of the town was built up around the - square, like lots of old-fashioned towns is, and they was jest enough - brightness from four, five electric lights to show the shape of the square - and be reflected from the windows of the closed-up stores. - </p> - <p> - I knowed they was likely a watchman somewheres about, too. I guessed I - wouldn't wander around none and run no chances of getting took up by him. - So I was getting ready to lay down on top of a level pile of boards and go - to sleep when I hearn a curious kind of noise a way off, like it must be - at the edge of town. - </p> - <p> - It sounded like quite a bunch of cattle might shuffling along a dusty - road. The night was so quiet you could hear things plain from a long ways - off. It growed a little louder and a little nearer. And then it struck a - plank bridge somewheres, and come acrost it with a clatter. Then I knowed - it wasn't cattle. Cows and steers don't make that cantering kind of noise - as a rule; they trot. It was hosses crossing that bridge. And they was - quite a lot of 'em. - </p> - <p> - As they struck the dirt road agin, I hearn a shot. And then another and - another. Then a dozen all to oncet, and away off through the night a woman - screamed. - </p> - <p> - I seen the man in the telephone place fling down his book and grab a - pistol from I don't know where. He stepped out into the street and fired - three shots into the air as fast as he could pull the trigger. And as he - done so they was a light flashed out in a building way down the railroad - track, and shots come answering from there. Men's voices began to yell - out; they was the noise of people running along plank sidewalks, and - windows opening in the dark. Then with a rush the galloping noise come - nearer, come closet; raced by the place where I was hiding, and nigh a - hundred men with guns swept right into the middle of that square and - pulled their hosses up. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> seen the feller - from the telephone exchange run down the street a little ways as the first - rush hit the square, and fire his pistol twice. Then he turned and made - fur an alleyway, but as he turned they let him have it. He throwed up his - arms and made one long stagger, right acrost the bar of light that - streamed out of the windows, and he fell into the shadder, out of sight, - jest like a scorched moth drops dead into the darkness from a torch. - </p> - <p> - Out of the middle of that bunch of riders come a big voice, yelling - numbers, instead of men's names. Then different crowds lit out in all - directions—some on foot, while others held their hosses—fur - they seemed to have a plan laid ahead. - </p> - <p> - And then things began to happen. They happened so quick and with such a - whirl it was all unreal to me—shots and shouts, and windows breaking - as they blazed away at the store fronts all around the square—and - orders and cuss-words ringing out between the noise of shooting—and - those electric lights shining on them as they tossed and trampled, and - showing up masked faces here and there—and pounding hoofs, and - hosses scream—like humans with excitement—and spurts of flame - squirted sudden out of the ring of darkness round about the open place—and - a bull-dog shut up in a store somewheres howling himself hoarse—and - white puffs of powder smoke like ghosts that went a-drifting by the lights—it - was all unreal to me, as if I had a fever and was dreaming it. That square - was like a great big stage in front of me, and I laid in the darkness on - my lumber pile and watched things like a show—not much scared - because it <i>was</i> so derned unreal. - </p> - <p> - From way down along the railroad track they come a sort of blunted roar, - like blasting big stumps out—and then another and another. Purty - soon, down that way, a slim flame licked up the side of a big building - there, and crooked its tongue over the top. Then a second big building - right beside it ketched afire, and they both showed up in their own light, - big and angry and handsome, and the light showed up the men in front of - 'em, too—guarding 'em, I guess, fur fear the town would get its - nerve and make a fight to put 'em out. They begun to light the whole town - up as light as day, and paint a red patch onto the sky, that must of been - noticed fur miles around. It was a mighty purty sight to see 'em burn. The - smoke was rolling high, too, and the sparks flying and other things in - danger of ketching, and after while a lick of smoke come drifting up my - way. I smelt her. It was tobacco burning in them warehouses. - </p> - <p> - But that town had some fight in her, in spite of being took unexpected - that-a-way. It wasn't no coward town. The light from the burning buildings - made all the shadders around about seem all the darker. And every once in - a while, after the surprise of the first rush, they would come thin little - streaks of fire out of the darkness somewheres, and the sound of shots. - And then a gang of riders would gallop in that direction shooting up all - creation. But by the time the warehouses was all lit up so that you could - see they was no hope of putting them out the shooting from the darkness - had jest about stopped. - </p> - <p> - It looked like them big tobacco warehouses was the main object of the - raid. Fur when they was burning past all chancet of saving, with walls and - floors a-tumbling and crashing down and sending up great gouts of fresh - flame as they fell, the leader sings out an order, and all that is not on - their hosses jumps on, and they rides away from the blaze. They come - across the square—not galloping now, but taking it easy, laughing - and talking and cussing and joking each other—and passed right by my - lumber pile agin and down the street they had come. You bet I laid low on - them boards while they was going by, and flattened myself out till I felt - like a shingle. - </p> - <p> - As I hearn their hoof-sounds getting farther off, I lifts up my head agin. - But they wasn't all gone, either. Three that must of been up to some - pertic'ler deviltry of their own come galloping acrost the square to ketch - up with the main bunch. Two was quite a bit ahead of the third one, and he - yelled to them to wait. But they only laughed and rode harder. - </p> - <p> - And then fur some fool reason that last feller pulled up his hoss and - stopped. He stopped in the road right in front of me, and wheeled his hoss - acrost the road and stood up in his stirrups and took a long look at that - blaze. You'd 'a' said he had done it all himself and was mighty proud of - it, the way he raised his head and looked back at that town. He was so - near that I hearn him draw in a slow, deep breath. He stood still fur most - a minute like that, black agin the red sky, and then he turned his hoss's - head and jabbed him with his stirrup edge. - </p> - <p> - Jest as the hoss started they come a shot from somewheres behind me. I - s'pose they was some one hid in the lumber piles, where the street crossed - the railway, besides myself. The hoss jumped forward at the shot, and the - feller swayed sideways and dropped his gun and lost his stirrups and come - down heavy on the ground. His hoss galloped off. I heard the noise of some - one running off through the dark, and stumbling agin the lumber. It was - the feller who had fired the shot running away. I suppose he thought the - rest of them riders would come back, when they heard that shot, and hunt - him down. - </p> - <p> - I thought they might myself. But I laid there, and jest waited. If they - come, I didn't want to be found running. But they didn't come. The two - last ones had caught up with the main gang, I guess, fur purty soon I - hearn them all crossing that plank bridge agin, and knowed they was gone. - </p> - <p> - At first I guessed the feller on the ground must be dead. But he wasn't, - fur purty soon I hearn him groan. He had mebby been stunned by his fall, - and was coming to enough to feel his pain. - </p> - <p> - I didn't feel like he orter be left there. So I clumb down and went over - to him. He was lying on one side all kind of huddled up. There had been a - mask on his face, like the rest of them, with some hair onto the bottom of - it to look like a beard. But now it had slipped down till it hung loose - around his neck by the string. They was enough light to see he wasn't - nothing but a young feller. He raised himself slow as I come near him, - leaning on one arm and trying to set up. The other arm hung loose and - helpless. Half setting up that-away he made a feel at his belt with his - good hand, as I come near. But that good arm was his prop, and when he - took it off the ground he fell back. His hand come away empty from his - belt. - </p> - <p> - The big six-shooter he had been feeling fur wasn't in its holster, anyhow. - It had fell out when he tumbled. I picked it up in the road jest a few - feet from his shot-gun, and stood there with it in my hand, looking down - at him. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he says, in a drawly kind of voice, slow and feeble, but looking - at me steady and trying to raise himself agin, “yo' can finish yo' little - job now—yo' shot me from the darkness, and now yo' done got my - pistol. I reckon yo' better shoot <i>agin</i>.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't want to rub it in none,” I says, “with you down and out, but from - what I seen around this town to-night I guess you and your own gang got no - <i>great</i> objections to shooting from the dark yourselves.” - </p> - <p> - “Why don't yo' shoot then?” he says. “It most suttinly is <i>yo</i>' turn - now.” And he never batted an eye. - </p> - <p> - “Bo,” I says, “you got nerve. I <i>like</i> you, Bo. I didn't shoot you, - and I ain't going to. The feller that did has went. I'm going to get you - out of this. Where you hurt?” - </p> - <p> - “Hip,” he says, “but that ain't much. The thing that bothers me is this - arm. It's done busted. I fell on it.” - </p> - <p> - I drug him out of the road and back of the lumber pile I had been laying - on, and hurt him considerable a-doing it. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” I says, “what can I do fur you?” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon yo' better leave me,” he says, “without yo' want to get yo'self - mixed up in all this.” - </p> - <p> - “If I do,” I says, “you may bleed to death here: or anyway you would get - found in the morning and be run in.” - </p> - <p> - “Yo' mighty good to me,” says he, “considering yo' are no kin to this here - part of the country at all. I reckon by yo' talk yo' are one of them damn - Yankees, ain't yo'?” - </p> - <p> - In Illinoise a Yankee is some one from the East, but down South he is - anybody from north of the Ohio, and though that there war was fought forty - years ago some of them fellers down there don't know damn and Yankee is - two words yet. But shucks!—they don't mean no harm by it! So I tells - him I am a damn Yankee and asts him agin if I can do anything fur him. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he says, “yo' can tell a friend of mine Bud Davis has happened to - an accident, and get him over here quick with his wagon to tote me home.” - </p> - <p> - I was to go down the railroad track past them burning warehouses till I - come to the third street, and then turn to my left. “The third house from - the track has got an iron picket fence in front of it,” says Bud, “and - it's the only house in that part of town which has. Beauregard Peoples - lives there. He is kin to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I says, “and Beauregard is jest as likely as not going to take a - shot out of the front window at me, fur luck, afore I can tell him what I - want. It seems to be a kind of habit in these here parts to-night—I'm - getting homesick fur Illinoise. But I'll take a chancet.” - </p> - <p> - “He won't shoot,” says Bud, “if yo' go about it right. Beauregard ain't - going to be asleep with all this going on in town to-night. Yo' rattle on - the iron gate and he'll holler to know what yo' all want.” - </p> - <p> - “If he don't shoot first,” I says. - </p> - <p> - “When he hollers, yo' cry back at him yo' have found his <i>Old Dead Hoss</i> - in the road. It won't hurt to holler that loud, and that will make him let - you within talking distance.” - </p> - <p> - “His old <i>dead hoss</i>?” - </p> - <p> - “Yo' don't need to know what that is. <i>He</i> will.” And then Bud told - me enough of the signs and words to say, and things to do, to keep - Beauregard from shooting—he said he reckoned he had trusted me so - much he might as well go the hull hog. Beauregard, he says, belongs to - them riders too; they have friends in all the towns that watches the lay - of the land fur them, he says. - </p> - <p> - I made a long half-circle around them burning buildings, keeping in the - dark, fur people was coming out in bunches, now that it was all over with, - watching them fires burning, and talking excited, and saying the riders - should be follered—only not follering. - </p> - <p> - I found the house Bud meant, and they was a light in the second-story - window. I rattled on the gate. A dog barked somewheres near, but I hearn - his chain jangle and knowed he was fast, and I rattled on the gate agin. - </p> - <p> - The light moved away from the window. Then another front window opened - quiet, and a voice says: - </p> - <p> - “Doctor, is that yo' back agin?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” I says, “I ain't a doctor.” - </p> - <p> - “Stay where you are, then. <i>I got you covered</i>.” - </p> - <p> - “I am staying,” I says, “don't shoot.” - </p> - <p> - “Who are yo'?” - </p> - <p> - “A feller,” I says, kind of sensing his gun through the darkness as I - spoke, “who has found your <i>old dead hoss</i> in the road.” - </p> - <p> - He didn't answer fur several minutes. Then he says, using the words <i>dead - hoss</i> as Bud had said he would. - </p> - <p> - “A <i>dead hoss</i> is fitten fo' nothing but to skin.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, using the words fur the third time, as instructed, “it is - a <i>dead hoss</i> all right.” - </p> - <p> - I hearn the window shut and purty soon the front door opened. - </p> - <p> - “Come up here,” he says. I come. - </p> - <p> - “Who rode that hoss yo' been talking about?” he asts. - </p> - <p> - “One of the <i>Silent Brigade</i>,” I tells him, as Bud had told me to - say. I give him the grip Bud had showed me with his good hand. - </p> - <p> - “Come on in,” he says. - </p> - <p> - He shut the door behind us and lighted a lamp agin. And we looked each - other over. He was a scrawny little feller, with little gray eyes set near - together, and some sandy-complected whiskers on his chin. I told him about - Bud, and what his fix was. - </p> - <p> - “Damn it—oh, damn it all,” he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose, - “I don't see how on <i>airth</i> I kin do it. My wife's jest had a baby. - Do yo' hear that?” - </p> - <p> - And I did hear a sound like kittens mewing, somewheres up stairs. - Beauregard, he grinned and rubbed his nose some more, and looked at me - like he thought that mewing noise was the smartest sound that ever was - made. - </p> - <p> - “Boy,” he says, grinning, “bo'n five hours ago. I've done named him Burley—after - the tobaccer association, yo' know. Yes, <i>sir</i>, Burley Peoples is his - name—and he shore kin squall, the derned little cuss!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I says, “you better stay with Burley. Lend me a rig of some sort - and I'll take Bud home.” - </p> - <p> - So we went out to Beauregard's stable with a lantern and hitched up one of - his hosses to a light road wagon. He went into the house and come back - agin with a mattress fur Bud to lie on, and a part of a bottle of whiskey. - And I drove back to that lumber pile. I guess I nearly killed Bud getting - him into there. But he wasn't bleeding much from his hip—it was his - arm was giving him fits. - </p> - <p> - We went slow, and the dawn broke with us four miles out of town. It was - broad daylight, and early morning noises stirring everywheres, when we - drove up in front of an old farmhouse, with big brick chimbleys built on - the outside of it, a couple of miles farther on. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s I drove into the - yard, a bare-headed old nigger with a game leg throwed down an armful of - wood he was gathering and went limping up to the veranda as fast as he - could. He opened the door and bawled out, pointing to us, before he had it - fairly open: - </p> - <p> - “O Marse <i>Will</i>yum! O Miss <i>Lucy</i>! Dey've brung him home! <i>Dar</i> - he!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0217.jpg" alt="0217 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0217.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - A little, bright, black-eyed old lady like a wren comes running out of the - house, and chirps: - </p> - <p> - “O Bud—O my honey boy! Is he dead?” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon not, Miss Lucy,” says Bud raising himself up on the mattress as - she runs up to the wagon, and trying to act like everything was all a - joke. She was jest high enough to kiss him over the edge of the wagon box. - A worried-looking old gentleman come out the door, seen Bud and his mother - kissing each other, and then says to the old nigger man: - </p> - <p> - “George, yo' old fool, what do yo' mean by shouting out like that?” - </p> - <p> - “Marse Willyum—” begins George, explaining. - </p> - <p> - “Shut up,” says the old gentleman, very quiet. “Take the bay mare and go - for Doctor Po'ter.” Then he comes to the wagon and says: - </p> - <p> - “So they got yo', Bud? Yo' <i>would</i> go nightriding like a rowdy and a - thug! Are yo' much hurt?” - </p> - <p> - He said it easy and gentle, more than mad. But Bud, he flushed up, pale as - he was, and didn't answer his dad direct. He turned to his mother and - said: - </p> - <p> - “Miss Lucy, dear, it would 'a' done yo' heart good to see the way them - trust warehouses blazed up!” - </p> - <p> - And the old lady, smiling and crying both to oncet, says, “God bless her - brave boy.” But the old gentleman looked mighty serious, and his worry - settled into a frown between his eyes, and he turns to me and says: - </p> - <p> - “Yo' must pardon us, sir, fo' neglecting to thank yo' sooner.” I told him - that would be all right, fur him not to worry none. And him and me and - Mandy, which was the nigger cook, got Bud into the house and into his bed. - And his mother gets that busy ordering Mandy and the old gentleman around, - to get things and fix things, and make Bud as easy as she could, that you - could see she was one of them kind of woman that gets a lot of - satisfaction out of having some one sick to fuss over. And after quite a - while George gets back with Doctor Porter. - </p> - <p> - He sets Bud's arm, and he locates the bullet in him, and he says he - guesses he'll do in a few weeks if nothing like blood poisoning nor - gangrene nor inflammation sets in. - </p> - <p> - Only the doctor says he “reckons” instead of he “guesses,” which they all - do down there. And they all had them easy-going, wait-a-bit kind of - voices, and didn't see no pertic'ler importance in their “r's.” It wasn't - that you could spell it no different when they talked, but it sounded - different. - </p> - <p> - I eat my breakfast with the old gentleman, and then I took a sleep until - time fur dinner. They wouldn't hear of me leaving that night. I fully - intended to go on the next day, but before I knowed it I been there a - couple of days, and have got very well acquainted with that fambly. - </p> - <p> - Well, that was a house divided agin itself. Miss Lucy, she is awful - favourable to all this nightrider business. She spunks up and her eyes - sparkles whenever she thinks about that there tobaccer trust. - </p> - <p> - She would of like to been a night-rider herself. But the old man, he says - law and order is the main pint. What the country needs, he says, ain't - burning down tobaccer warehouses, and shooting your neighbours, and - licking them with switches, fur no wrong done never righted another wrong. - </p> - <p> - “But you were in the Ku Klux Klan yo'self,” says Miss Lucy. - </p> - <p> - The old man says the Ku Kluxes was working fur a principle—the - principle of keeping the white supremacy on top of the nigger race. Fur if - you let 'em quit work and go around balloting and voting it won't do. It - makes 'em biggity. And a biggity nigger is laying up trouble fur himself. - Because sooner or later he will get to thinking he is as good as one of - these here Angle-Saxtons you are always hearing so much talk about down - South. And if the Angle-Saxtons was to stand fur that, purty soon they - would be sociable equality. And next the hull dern country would be - niggerized. Them there Angle-Saxtons, that come over from Ireland and - Scotland and France and the Great British Islands and settled up the South - jest simply couldn't afford to let that happen, he says, and so they Ku - Kluxed the niggers to make 'em quit voting. It was <i>their</i> job to <i>make</i> - law and order, he says, which they couldn't be with niggers getting the - idea they had a right to govern. So they Ku Kluxed 'em like gentlemen. But - these here night-riders, he says, is <i>agin</i> law and order—they - can shoot up more law and order in one night than can be manufactured agin - in ten years. He was a very quiet, peaceable old man, Mr. Davis was, and - Bud says he was so dern foolish about law and order he had to up and shoot - a man, about fifteen years ago, who hearn him talking that-a-way and said - he reminded him of a Boston school teacher. - </p> - <p> - But Miss Lucy and Bud, they tells me what all them night-ridings is fur. - It seems this here tobaccer trust is jest as mean and low-down and - unprincipled as all the rest of them trusts. The farmers around there - raised considerable tobaccer—more'n they did of anything else. The - trust had shoved the price so low they couldn't hardly make a living. So - they organized and said they would all hold their tobaccer fur a fair - price. But some of the farmers wouldn't organize—said they had a - right to do what they pleased with their own tobaccer. So the night-riders - was formed to burn their barns and ruin their crops and whip 'em and shoot - 'em and make 'em jine. And also to burn a few trust warehouses now and - then, and show 'em this free American people, composed mainly out of the - Angle-Saxton races, wasn't going to take no sass from anybody. - </p> - <p> - An old feller by the name of Rufe Daniels who wouldn't jine the - night-riders had been shot to death on his own door step, jest about a - mile away, only a week or so before. The night-riders mostly used these - here automatic shot-guns, but they didn't bother with birdshot. They - mostly loaded their shells with buckshot. A few bicycle ball bearings - dropped out of old Rufe when they gathered him up and got him into shape - to plant. They is always some low-down cuss in every crowd that carries - things to the point where they get brutal, Bud says; and he feels like - them bicycle bearings was going a little too fur, though he wouldn't let - on to his dad that he felt that-a-way. - </p> - <p> - So fur as I could see they hadn't hurt the trust none to speak of, them - night-riders. But they had done considerable damage to their own county, - fur folks was moving away, and the price of land had fell. Still, I guess - they must of got considerable satisfaction out of raising the deuce nights - that-away; and sometimes that is worth a hull lot to a feller. As fur as I - could make out both the trust and the night-riders was in the wrong. But, - you take 'em one at a time, personal-like, and not into a gang, and most - of them night-riders is good-dispositioned folks. I never knowed any - trusts personal, but mebby if you could ketch 'em the same way they would - be similar. - </p> - <p> - I asts George one day what he thought about it. George, he got mighty - serious right off, like he felt his answer was going to be used to decide - the hull thing by. He was carrying a lot of scraps on a plate to a hound - dog that had a kennel out near George's cabin, and he walled his eyes - right thoughtful, and scratched his head with the fork he had been - scraping the plate with, but fur a while nothing come of it. Finally - George says: - </p> - <p> - “I'se 'spec' mah jedgment des about de same as Marse <i>Will</i>yum's an' - Miss <i>Lucy</i>'s. I'se notice hit mos' ingin'lly am de same.” - </p> - <p> - “That can't be, George,” says I, “fur they think different ways.” - </p> - <p> - “Den if <i>dat</i> am de case,” says George, “dey ain't NO ONE kin settle - hit twell hit settles hitse'f. - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “I'se mos' ingin'lly notice a thing <i>do</i> settle hitse'f arter a - while. Yass, <i>sah</i>, I'se notice dat! Long time ago dey was consid'ble - gwines-on in dis hyah county, Marse Daniel. I dunno ef yo' evah heah 'bout - dat o' not, Marse Daniel, but dey was a wah fit right hyah in dis hyah - county. Such gwines-on as nevah was—dem dar Yankees a-ridin' aroun' - an' eatin' up de face o' de yearth, like de plagues o' Pha'aoah, Marse - Daniel, and rippin' and rarin' an' racin' an' stealin' evehything dey - could lay dey han's on, Marse Daniel. An' ouah folks a-ridin' and a racin' - and projickin' aroun' in de same onsettled way. - </p> - <p> - “Marse Willyum, he 'low <i>he</i> gwine settle dat dar wah he-se'f—yass, - <i>sah!</i> An' he got on he hoss, and he ride away an' jine Marse Jeb - Stuart. But dey don' settle hit. Marse Ab'ham Linkum, he 'low <i>he</i> - gwine settle hit, an' sen' millyums an' millyums mo' o' dem Yankees down - hyah, Marse Daniel. But dey des <i>on</i>settle hit wuss'n evah! But arter - a while it des settle <i>hit</i>se'f. - </p> - <p> - “An' den freedom broke out among de niggers, and dey was mo' gwines-<i>on</i>, - an' talkin', an' some on 'em 'lowed dey was gwine ter be no mo' wohk, - Marse Daniel. But arter a while dat settle <i>hit</i>se'f, and dey all - went back to wohk agin. Den some on de niggers gits de notion, Marse - Daniel, dey gwine foh to <i>vote</i>. An' dey was mo' gwines-on, an' de Ku - Kluxes come a projickin' aroun' nights, like de grave-yahds done been - resu'rected, Marse Daniel, an' den arter a while dat trouble settle <i>hit</i>se'f. - </p> - <p> - “Den arter de Ku Kluxes dey was de time Miss Lucy Buckner gwine ter mahy - Marse Prent McMakin. An' she don' want to ma'hy him, if dey give her her - druthers about hit. But Ol' Marse Kunnel Hampton, her gram-pa, and her - aunt, <i>my</i> Miss Lucy hyah, dey ain't gwine give her no druthers. And - dey was mo' gwines-<i>on</i>. But dat settle <i>hit</i>se'f, too.” - </p> - <p> - George, he begins to chuckle, and I ast him how. - </p> - <p> - “Yass, <i>sah</i>, dat settle <i>hit</i>se'f. But I 'spec' Miss Lucy - Buckner done he'p some in de settle<i>ment</i>. Foh de day befoh de - weddin' was gwine ter be, she ups an' she runs off wid a Yankee frien' of - her brother, Kunnel Tom Buckner. An' I'se 'spec' Kunnel Tom an' Marse - Prent McMakin would o' settle' <i>him</i> ef dey evah had o' cotched him—dat - dar David Ahmstrong!” - </p> - <p> - “Who?” says I. - </p> - <p> - “David Ahmstrong was his entitlement,” says George, “an' he been gwine to - de same college as Marse Tom Buckner, up no'th somewhah. Dat's how-come he - been visitin' Marse Tom des befoh de weddin' trouble done settle <i>hit</i> - se'f dat-away.” - </p> - <p> - Well, it give me quite a turn to run onto the mention of that there David - Armstrong agin in this part of the country. Here he had been jilting Miss - Hampton way up in Indiany, and running away with another girl down here in - Tennessee. Then it struck me mebby it is jest different parts of the same - story I been hearing of, and Martha had got her part a little wrong. - </p> - <p> - “George,” I says, “what did you say Miss Lucy Buckner's gran-dad's name - was?” - </p> - <p> - “Kunnel Hampton—des de same as <i>my</i> Miss Lucy befo' <i>she</i> - done ma'hied Marse Willyum.” - </p> - <p> - That made me sure of it. It was the same woman. She had run away with - David Armstrong from this here same neighbourhood. Then after he got her - up North he had left her—or her left him. And then she wasn't Miss - Buckner no longer. And she was mad and wouldn't call herself Mrs. - Armstrong. So she moved away from where any one was lible to trace her to, - and took her mother's maiden name, which was Hampton. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “what ever become of 'em after they run off, George?” - </p> - <p> - But George has told about all he knows. They went North, according to what - everybody thinks, he says. Prent McMakin, he follered and hunted. And Col. - Tom Buckner, he done the same. Fur about a year Colonel Tom, he was always - making trips away from there to the North. But whether he ever got any - track of his sister and that David Armstrong nobody knowed. Nobody never - asked him. Old Colonel Hampton, he grieved and he grieved, and not long - after the runaway he up and died. And Tom Buckner, he finally sold all he - owned in that part of the country and moved further south. George said he - didn't rightly know whether it was Alabama or Florida. Or it might of been - Georgia. - </p> - <p> - I thinks to myself that mebby Mrs. Davis would like to know where her - niece is, and that I better tell her about Miss Hampton being in that - there little Indiany town, and where it is. And then I thinks to myself I - better not butt in. Fur Miss Hampton has likely got her own reasons fur - keeping away from her folks, or else she wouldn't do it. Anyhow, it's none - of <i>my</i> affair to bring the subject up to 'em. It looks to me like - one of them things George has been gassing about—one of them things - that has settled itself, and it ain't fur me to meddle and unsettle it. - </p> - <p> - It set me to thinking about Martha, too. Not that I hadn't thought of her - lots of times. I had often thought I would write her. But I kept putting - it off, and purty soon I kind of forgot Martha. I had seen a lot of - different girls of all kinds since I had seen Martha. Yet, whenever I - happened to think of Martha, I had always liked her best. Only moving - around the country so much makes it kind of hard to keep thinking steady - of the same girl. Besides, I had lost that there half of a ring, too. - </p> - <p> - But knowing what I did now about Miss Hampton being Miss Buckner—or - Mrs. Armstrong—and related to these Davises made me want to get away - from there. Fur that secret made me feel kind of sneaking, like I wasn't - being frank and open with them. Yet if I had of told 'em I would of felt - sneakinger yet fur giving Miss Hampton away. I never got into a mix up - that-a-way betwixt my conscience and my duty but what it made me feel - awful uncomfortable. So I guessed I would light out from there. They - wasn't never no kinder, better people than them Davises, either. They was - so pleased with my bringing Bud home the night he was shot they would of - jest natcherally give me half their farm if I had of ast them fur it. They - wanted me to stay there—they didn't say fur how long, and I guess - they didn't give a dern. But I was in a sweat to ketch up with Doctor - Kirby agin. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> made purty good - time, and in a couple of days I was in Atlanta. I knowed the doctor must - of gone back into some branch of the medicine game—the bottles told - me that. I knowed it must be something that he needed some special kind of - bottles fur, too, or he wouldn't of had them shipped all that distance, - but would of bought them nearer. I seen I was a dern fool fur rushing off - and not inquiring what kind of bottles, so I could trace what he was into - easier. - </p> - <p> - It's hard work looking fur a man in a good-sized town. I hung around hotel - lobbies and places till I was tired of it, thinking he might come in. And - I looked through all the office buildings and read all the advertisements - in the papers. Then the second day I was there the state fair started up - and I went out to it. - </p> - <p> - I run acrost a couple I knowed out there the first thing—it was - Watty and the snake-charmer woman. Only she wasn't charming them now. Her - and Watty had a Parisian Models' show. I ast Watty where Dolly was. He - says he don't know, that Dolly has quit him. By which I guess he means he - has quit her. I ast where Reginald is, and the Human Ostrich. But from the - way they answered my questions I seen I wasn't welcome none around there. - I suppose that Mrs. Ostrich and Watty had met up agin somewheres, and had - jest natcherally run off with each other and left their famblies. Like as - not she had left poor old Reginald with that idiotic ostrich feller to - sell to strangers that didn't know his disposition. Or mebby by now - Reginald was turned loose in the open country to shift fur himself, among - wild snakes that never had no human education nor experience; and what - chancet would a friendly snake like Reginald have in a gang like that? - Some women has jest simply got no conscience at all about their husbands - and famblies, and that there Mrs. Ostrich was one of 'em. - </p> - <p> - Well, a feller can be a derned fool sometimes. Fur all my looking around I - wasted a lot of time before I thought of going to the one natcheral place—the - freight depot of the road them bottles had been shipped by. I had lost a - week coming down. But freight often loses more time than that. And it was - at the freight depot that I found him. - </p> - <p> - Tickled? Well, yes! Both of us. - </p> - <p> - “Well, by George,” says he, “you're good for sore eyes.” - </p> - <p> - Before he told me how he happened not to of drownded or blowed away or - anything he says we better fix up a bit. Which he meant I better. So he - buys me duds from head to heel, and we goes to a Turkish bath place and I - puts 'em on. And then we goes and eats. Hearty. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” he says, “Fido Cut-up, how did you find me?” * - </p> - <p> - I told him about the bottles. - </p> - <p> - “A dead loss, those bottles,” he says. “I wanted some non-refillable ones - for a little scheme I had in mind, and I had to get them at a certain - place—and now the scheme's up in the air and I can't use 'em.” - </p> - <p> - The doctor had changed some in looks in the year or more that had passed - since I saw him floating away in that balloon. And not fur the better. He - told me how he had blowed clean acrost Lake Erie in that there balloon. - And then when he got over land agin and went to pull the cord that lets - the parachute loose it wouldn't work at first. He jest natcherally drifted - on into the midst of nowhere, he said—miles and miles into Canada. - When he lit the balloon had lost so much gas and was flying so low that - the parachute didn't open out quick enough to do much floating. So he lit - hard, and come near being knocked out fur good. But— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - *<i>Author's Note</i>—Can it be that Danny struggles vaguely - to report some reference to <i>fidus achates</i>? -</pre> - <p> - that wasn't the worst of it, fur the exposure had crawled into his lungs - by the time he found a house, and he got newmonia into them also, and like - to of died. Whilst I was laying sick he had been sick also, only his'n - lasted much longer. - </p> - <p> - But he tells me he has jest struck an idea fur a big scheme. No little - schemes go fur him any more, he says. He wants money. Real money. - </p> - <p> - “How you going to get it?” I asts him. - </p> - <p> - “Come along and I'll tell you,” he says. “We'll take a walk, and I'll show - you how I got my idea.” - </p> - <p> - We left the restaurant and went along the brag street of that town, which - it is awful proud of, past where the stores stops and the houses begins. - We come to a fine-looking house on a corner—a swell place it was, - with lots of palms and ferns and plants setting on the verandah and - showing through the windows. And stables back of it; and back of the - stables a big yard with noises coming from it like they was circus animals - there. Which I found out later they really was, kept fur pets. You could - tell the people that lived there had money. - </p> - <p> - “This,” says Doctor Kirby, as we walked by, “is the house that Jackson - built. Dr. Julius Jackson—<i>old</i> Doctor Jackson, the man with an - idea! The idea made all the money you smell around here.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0235.jpg" alt="0235 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0235.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “What idea?” - </p> - <p> - “The idea—the glorious humanitarian and philanthropic idea—of - taking the kinks and curls out of the hair of the Afro-American brother,” - says Doctor Kirby, “at so much per kink.” - </p> - <p> - This Doctor Jackson, he says, sells what he calls Anti-Curl to the - niggers. It is to straighten out their hair so it will look like white - people's hair. They is millions and millions of niggers, and every nigger - has millions and millions of kinks, and so Doctor Jackson has got rich at - it. So rich he can afford to keep that there personal circus menagerie in - his back yard, for his little boy to play with, and many other interesting - things. He must be worth two, three million dollars, Doctor Kirby says, - and still a-making it, with more niggers growing up all the time fur to - have their hair unkinked. Especially mulattoes and yaller niggers. Doctor - Kirby says thinking what a great idea that Anti-Curl was give him his own - great idea. They is a gold mine there, he says, and Dr. Julius Jackson has - only scratched a little off the top of it, but <i>he</i> is going to dig - deeper. - </p> - <p> - “Why is it that the Afro-American brother buys Anti-Curl?” he asts. - </p> - <p> - “Why?” I asts. - </p> - <p> - “Because,” he says, “he wants to be as much like a white man as he - possibly can. He strives to burst his birth's invidious bar, Danny. They - talk about progress and education for the Afro-American brother, and - uplift and advancement and industrial education and manual training and - all that sort of thing. Especially we Northerners. But what the - Afro-American brother thinks about and dreams about and longs for and - prays to be—when he thinks at all—is to be white. Education, - to his mind, is learning to talk like a white man. Progress means aping - the white man. Religion is dying and going to heaven and being a <i>white</i> - angel—listen to his prayers and sermons and you'll find that out. - He'll do anything he can, or give anything he can get his Ethiopian - grubhooks on, for something that he thinks is going to make him more like - a white man. Poor devil! Therefore the millions of Doctor Jackson - Anti-Curl. - </p> - <p> - “All this Doctor Jackson Anti-Curl has discovered and thought out and - acted upon. If he had gone just one step farther the Afro-American brother - would have hailed him as a greater man than Abraham Lincoln, or either of - the Washingtons, George or Booker. It remains for me, Danny—for <i>us</i>—to - carry the torch ahead—to take up the work where the imagination of - Doctor Jackson Anti-Curl has laid it down.” - </p> - <p> - “How?” asts I. - </p> - <p> - “<i>We'll put up and sell a preparation to turn the negroes white!</i>” - </p> - <p> - <i>That</i> was his great idea. He was more excited over it than I ever - seen him before about anything. - </p> - <p> - It sounded like so easy a way to get rich it made me wonder why no one had - ever done it before, if it could really be worked. I didn't believe much - it could be worked. - </p> - <p> - But Doctor Kirby, he says he has begun his experiments already, with - arsenic. Arsenic, he says, will bleach anything. Only he is kind of afraid - of arsenic, too. If he could only get hold of something that didn't cost - much, and that would whiten them up fur a little while, he says, it - wouldn't make no difference if they did get black agin. This here - Anti-Curl stuff works like that—it takes the kinks out fur a little - while, and they come back agin. But that don't seem to hurt the sale none. - It only calls fur <i>more</i> of Doctor Jackson's medicine. - </p> - <p> - The doctor takes me around to the place he boards at, and shows me a - nigger waiter he has been experimenting on. He had paid the nigger's fine - in a police court fur slashing another nigger some with a knife, and kept - him from going into the chain-gang. So the nigger agreed he could use his - hide to try different kinds of medicines on. He was a velvety-looking, - chocolate-coloured kind of nigger to start with, and the best Doctor Kirby - had been able to do so fur was to make a few little liver-coloured spots - come onto him. But it was making the nigger sick, and the doctor was - afraid to go too fur with it, fur Sam might die and we would be at the - expense of another nigger. Peroxide of hidergin hadn't even phased him. - Nor a lot of other things we tried onto him. - </p> - <p> - You never seen a nigger with his colour running into him so deep as Sam's - did. Sam, he was always apologizing about it, too. You could see it made - him feel real bad to think his colour was so stubborn. He felt like it - wasn't being polite to the doctor and me, Sam did, fur his skin to act - that-a-way. He was a willing nigger, Sam was. The doctor, he says he will - find out the right stuff if he has to start at the letter A and work Sam - through every drug in the hull blame alphabet down to Z. - </p> - <p> - Which he finally struck it. I don't exactly know what she had in her, but - she was a mixture of some kind. The only trouble with her was she didn't - work equal and even—left Sam's face looking peeled and spotty in - places. But still, in them spots, Sam was six shades lighter. The doctor - says that is jest what he wants, that there passing - on-to-the-next-cage-we-have-the-spotted-girocutus-look, as he calls it. - The chocolate brown and the lighter spots side by side, he says, made a - regular Before and After out of Sam's face, and was the best advertisement - you could have. - </p> - <p> - Then we goes and has a talk with Doctor Jackson himself. Doctor Kirby has - the idea mebby he will put some money into it. Doctor Jackson was setting - on his front veranda with his chair tilted back, and his feet, with red - carpet slippers on 'em, was on the railing, and he was smoking one of - these long black cigars that comes each one in a little glass tube all by - itself. He looks Sam over very thoughtful, and he says: - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it will do the work well enough. I can see that. But will it sell?” - </p> - <p> - Doctor Kirby makes him quite a speech. I never hearn him make a better - one. Doctor Jackson he listens very calm, with his thumbs in the armholes - of his vest, and moving his eyebrows up and down like he enjoyed it. But - he don't get excited none. Finally Doctor Kirby says he will undertake to - show that it will sell—me and him will take a trip down into the - black country ourselves and show what can be done with it, and take Sam - along fur an object lesson. - </p> - <p> - Well, they was a lot of rag-chewing. Doctor Jackson don't warm up none, - and he asts a million questions. Like how much it costs a bottle to make - it, and what was our idea how much it orter sell fur. He says finally if - we can sell a certain number of bottles in so long a time he will put some - money into it. Only, he says, they will be a stock company, and he will - have to have fifty-one per cent. of the stock, or he won't put no money - into it. He says if things go well he will let Doctor Kirby be manager of - that company, and let him have some stock in it too, and he will be - president and treasurer of it himself. - </p> - <p> - Doctor Kirby, he didn't like that, and said so. Said <i>he</i> was going - to organize that stock company, and control it himself. But Doctor Jackson - said he never put money into nothing he couldn't run. So it was settled we - would give the stuff a try-out and report to him. Before we went away from - there it looked to me like Doctor Kirby and me was going to work fur this - here Doctor Jackson, instead of making all them there millions fur - ourselves. Which I didn't take much to that Anti-Curl man myself; he was - so cold-blooded like. - </p> - <p> - I didn't like the scheme itself any too well, neither. Not any way you - could look at it. In the first place it seemed like a mean trick on the - niggers. Then I didn't much believe we could get away with it. - </p> - <p> - The more I looked him over the more I seen Doctor Kirby had changed - considerable. When I first knowed him he liked to hear himself talking and - he liked to live free and easy and he liked to be running around the - country and all them things, more'n he liked to be making money. Of - course, he wanted it; but that wasn't the <i>only</i> thing he was into - the Sagraw game fur. If he had money, he was free with it and would help - most any one out of a hole. But he wasn't thinking it and talking it all - the time then. - </p> - <p> - But now he was thinking money and dreaming money and talking of nothing - but how to get it. And planning to make it out of skinning them niggers. - He didn't care a dern how he worked on their feelings to get it. He didn't - even seem to care whether he killed Sam trying them drugs onto him. He - wanted <i>money</i>, and he wanted it so bad he was ready and willing to - take up with most any wild scheme to make it. - </p> - <p> - They was something about him now that didn't fit in much with the Doctor - Kirby I had knowed. It seemed like he had spells when he saw himself how - he had changed. He wasn't gay and joking all the time like he had been - before, neither. I guess the doctor was getting along toward fifty years - old. I suppose he thought if he was ever going to get anything out of his - gift of the gab he better settle down to something, and quit fooling - around, and do it right away. But it looked to me like he might never turn - the trick. Fur he was drinking right smart all the time. Drinking made him - think a lot, and thinking was making him look old. He was more'n one year - older than he had been a year ago. - </p> - <p> - He kept a quart bottle in his room now. The night after we had took Sam to - see Doctor Jackson we was setting in his room, and he was hitting it purty - hard. - </p> - <p> - “Danny,” he says to me, after a while, like he was talking out loud to - himself too, “what did you think of Doctor Jackson?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't like him much,” I says. - </p> - <p> - “Nor I,” he says, frowning, and takes a drink. Then he says, after quite a - few minutes of frowning and thinking, under his breath like: “He's a blame - sight more decent than I am, for all of that.” - </p> - <p> - “Why?” I asts him. - </p> - <p> - “Because Doctor Jackson,” he says, “hasn't the least idea that he <i>isn't</i> - decent, and getting his money in a decent way. While at one time I was—” - </p> - <p> - He breaks off and don't say what he was. I asts him. “I was going to say a - gentleman,” he says, “but on reflection, I doubt if I was ever anything - but a cheap imitation. I never heard a man say that he was a gentleman at - one time, that I didn't doubt him. Also,” he goes on, working himself into - a better humour again with the sound of his own voice, “if I <i>had</i> - ever been a gentleman at any time, enough of it would surely have stuck to - me to keep me out of partnership with a man who cheats niggers.” - </p> - <p> - He takes another drink and says even twenty years of running around the - country couldn't of took all the gentleman out of him like this, if he had - ever been one, fur you can break, you can scatter the vase if you will, - but the smell of the roses will stick round it still. - </p> - <p> - I seen now the kind of conversations he is always having with himself when - he gets jest so drunk and is thinking hard. Only this time it happens to - be out loud. - </p> - <p> - “What is a gentleman?” I asts him, thinking if he wasn't one it might take - his mind off himself a little to tell me. “What <i>makes</i> one?” - </p> - <p> - “Authorities differ,” says Doctor Kirby, slouching down in his chair, and - grinning like he knowed a joke he wasn't going to tell no one. “I heard - Doctor Jackson describe himself that way the other day.” - </p> - <p> - Well, speaking personal, I never had smelled none of roses. I wasn't - nothing but trash myself, so being a gentleman didn't bother me one way or - the other. The only reason I didn't want to see them niggers bunked so - very bad was only jest because it was such a low-down, ornery kind of - trick. - </p> - <p> - “It ain't too late,” I says, “to pull out of this nigger scheme yet and - get into something more honest.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know,” he says thoughtful. “I think perhaps it <i>is</i> too - late.” And he sets there looking like a man that is going over a good many - years of life in his mind. Purty soon he says: - </p> - <p> - “As far as honesty goes—it isn't that so much, O - Daniel-come-to-judgment! It's about as honest as most medicine games. It's—” - He stopped and frowned agin. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “It's their being <i>niggers</i>,” he says. - </p> - <p> - That made the difference fur me, too. I dunno how, nor why. - </p> - <p> - “I've tried nearly everything but blackmail,” he says, “and I'll probably - be trying that by this time next year, if this scheme fails. But there's - something about their being niggers that makes me sick of this thing - already—just as the time has come to make the start. And I don't - know <i>why</i> it should, either.” He slipped another big slug of whiskey - into him, and purty soon he asts me: - </p> - <p> - “Do you know what's the matter with me?” - </p> - <p> - I asts him what. - </p> - <p> - “I'm too decent to be a crook,” he says, “and too crooked to be decent. - You've got to be one thing or the other steady to make it pay.” - </p> - <p> - Then he says: - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever hear of the descent to Avernus, Danny?” - </p> - <p> - “I might,” I tells him, “and then agin I mightn't, but if I ever did, I - don't remember what she is. What is she?” - </p> - <p> - “It's the chute to the infernal regions,” he says. “They say it's greased. - But it isn't. It's really no easier sliding down than it is climbing - back.” - </p> - <p> - Well, I seen this nigger scheme of our'n wasn't the only thing that was - troubling Doctor Kirby that night. It was thinking of all the schemes like - it in the years past he had went into, and how he had went into 'em - light-hearted and more'n half fur fun when he was a young man, and now he - wasn't fitten fur nothing else but them kind of schemes, and he knowed it. - He was seeing himself how he had been changing, like another person could - of seen it. That's the main trouble with drinking to fergit yourself. You - fergit the wrong part of yourself. - </p> - <p> - I left him purty soon, and went along to bed. My room was next to his'n, - and they was a door between, so the two could be rented together if - wanted, I suppose. I went to sleep and woke up agin with a start out of a - dream that had in it millions and millions and millions of niggers, every - way you looked, and their mouths was all open red and their eyes walled - white, fit to scare you out of your shoes. - </p> - <p> - I hearn Doctor Kirby moving around in his room. But purty soon he sets - down and begins to talk to himself. Everything else was quiet. I was kind - of worried about him, he had taken so much, and hoped he wouldn't get a - notion to go downtown that time o' night. So I thinks I will see how he is - acting, and steps over to the door between the rooms. - </p> - <p> - The key happened to be on my side, and I unlocked it. But she only opens a - little ways, fur his wash stand was near to the hinge end of the door. - </p> - <p> - I looked through. He is setting by the table, looking at a woman's picture - that is propped up on it, and talking to himself. He has never hearn me - open the door, he is so interested. But somehow, he don't look drunk. He - looks like he had fought his way up out of it, somehow—his forehead - was sweaty, and they was one intoxicated lock of hair sticking to it; but - that was the only un-sober-looking thing about him. I guess his legs would - of been unsteady if he had of tried to walk, but his intellects was - uncomfortable and sober. - </p> - <p> - He is still keeping up that same old argument with himself, or with the - picture. - </p> - <p> - “It isn't any use,” I hearn him say, looking at the picture. - </p> - <p> - Then he listened like he hearn it answering him. “Yes, you always say just - that—just that,” he says. “And I don't know why I keep on listening - to you.” - </p> - <p> - The way he talked, and harkened fur an answer, when they was nothing there - to answer, give me the creeps. - </p> - <p> - “You don't help me,” he goes on, “you don't help me at all. You only make - it harder. Yes, this thing is worse than the others. I know that. But I - want money—and fool things like this <i>have</i> sometimes made it. - No, I won't give it up. No, there's no use making any more promises now. I - know myself now. And you ought to know me by this time, too. Why can't you - let me alone altogether? I should think, when you see what I am, you'd let - me be. - </p> - <p> - “God help you! if you'd only stay away it wouldn't be so hard to go to - hell!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here's a lot of - counties in Georgia where the blacks are equal in number to the whites, - and two or three counties where the blacks number over the whites by two - to one. It was fur a little town in one of the latter that we pinted - ourselves, Doctor Kirby and me and Sam—right into the blackest part - of the black belt. - </p> - <p> - That country is full of big-sized plantations, where they raise cotton, - cotton, cotton, and then <i>more</i> cotton. Some of 'em raises fruit, - too, and other things, of course; but cotton is the main stand-by, and it - looks like it always will be. - </p> - <p> - Some places there shows that things can't be so awful much changed since - slavery days, and most of the niggers are sure enough country niggers yet. - Some rents their land right out from the owners, and some of 'em crops it - on the shares, and very many of 'em jest works as hands. A lot of 'em - don't do nigh so well now as they did when their bosses was their masters, - they tell me; and then agin, some has done right well on their own hook. - They intrusted me, because I never had been use to looking at so many - niggers. Every way you turn there they is niggers and then more niggers. - </p> - <p> - Them that thinks they is awful easy to handle out of a natcheral respect - fur white folks has got another guess coming. They ain't so bad to get - along with if you keep it most pintedly shoved into their heads they <i>is</i> - niggers. You got to do that especial in the black belt, jest because they - <i>is</i> so many of 'em. They is children all their lives, mebby, till - some one minute of craziness may strike one of them, and then he is a - devil temporary. Mebby, when the crazy fit has passed, some white woman is - worse off than if she was dead, or mebby she <i>is</i> dead, or mebby a - loonatic fur life, and that nigger is a candidate fur a lynching bee and - ginerally elected by an anonymous majority. - </p> - <p> - Not that <i>all</i> niggers is that-a-way, nor <i>half</i> of 'em, nor - very <i>many</i> of 'em, even—but you can never tell <i>which</i> - nigger is going to be. So in the black belt the white folks is mighty - pertic'ler who comes along fooling with their niggers. Fur you can never - tell what turn a nigger's thoughts will take, once anything at all stirs - 'em up. - </p> - <p> - We didn't know them things then, Doctor Kirby and me didn't. We didn't - know we was moving light-hearted right into the middle of the biggest - question that has ever been ast. Which I disremember exactly how that - nigger question is worded, but they is always asting it in the South, and - answering of it different ways. We hadn't no idea how suspicious the white - people in them awful black spots on the map can get over any one that - comes along talking to their niggers. We didn't know anything about - niggers much, being both from the North, except what Doctor Kirby had - counted on when he made his medicine, and <i>that</i> he knowed - second-handed from other people. We didn't take 'em very serious, nor all - the talk we hearn about 'em down South. - </p> - <p> - But even at that we mightn't of got into any trouble if it hadn't of been - fur old Bishop Warren. But that is getting ahead of the story. - </p> - <p> - We got into that little town—I might jest as well call it - Cottonville—jest about supper time. Cottonville is a little place of - not more'n six hundred people. I guess four hundred of 'em must be - niggers. - </p> - <p> - After supper we got acquainted with purty nigh all the prominent citizens - in town. They was friendly with us, and we was friendly with them. Georgia - had jest went fur prohibition a few months before that, and they hadn't - opened up these here near-beer bar-rooms in the little towns yet, like - they had in Atlanta and the big towns. Georgia had went prohibition so the - niggers couldn't get whiskey, some said; but others said they didn't know - <i>what</i> its excuse was. Them prominent citizens was loafing around the - hotel and every now and then inviting each other very mysterious into a - back room that use to be a pool parlour. They had been several jugs come - to town by express that day. We went back several times ourselves, and - soon began to get along purty well with them prominent citizens. - </p> - <p> - Talking about this and that they finally edges around to the one thing - everybody is sure to get to talking about sooner or later in the South—niggers. - And then they gets to telling us about this here Bishop Warren I has - mentioned. - </p> - <p> - He was a nigger bishop, Bishop Warren was, and had a good deal of white - blood into him, they say. An ashy-coloured nigger, with bumps on his face, - fat as a possum, and as cunning as a fox. He had plenty of brains into his - head, too; but his brains had turned sour in his head the last few years, - and the bishop had crazy streaks running through his sense now, like fat - and lean mixed in a slab of bacon. He used to be friends with a lot of big - white folks, and the whites depended on him at one time to preach - orderliness and obedience and agriculture and being in their place to the - niggers. Fur years they thought he preached that-a-way. He always <i>did</i> - preach that-a-way when any whites was around, and he set on platforms - sometimes with white preachers, and he got good donations fur schemes of - different kinds. But gradual the suspicion got around that when he was - alone with a lot of niggers his nigger blood would get the best of him, - and what he preached wasn't white supremacy at all, but hopefulness of - being equal. - </p> - <p> - So the whites had fell away from him, and then his graft was gone, and - then his brains turned sour in his head and got to working and fermenting - in it like cider getting hard, and he made a few bad breaks by not being - careful what he said before white people. But the niggers liked him all - the better fur that. - </p> - <p> - They always had been more or less hell in the bishop's heart. He had - brains and he knowed it, and the white folks had let him see <i>they</i> - knowed it, too. And he was part white, and his white forefathers had been - big men in their day, and yet, in spite of all of that, he had to herd - with niggers and to pertend he liked it. He was both white and black in - his feelings about things, so some of his feelings counterdicted others, - and one of these here race riots went on all the time in his own insides. - But gradual he got to the place where they was spells he hated both whites - and niggers, but he hated the whites the worst. And now, in the last two - or three years, since his crazy streaks had growed as big as his sensible - streaks, or bigger, they was no telling what he would preach to them - niggers. But whatever he preached most of them would believe. It might be - something crazy and harmless, or it might be crazy and harmful. - </p> - <p> - He had been holding some revival meetings in nigger churches right there - in that very county, and was at it not fur away from there right then. The - idea had got around he was preaching some most unusual foolishness to the - blacks. Fur the niggers was all acting like they knowed something too good - to mention to the white folks, all about there. But some white men had - gone to one of the meetings, and the bishop had preached one of his - old-time sermons whilst they was there, telling the niggers to be orderly - and agriculturous—he was considerable of a fox yet. But he and the - rest of the niggers was so <i>derned</i> anxious to be thought - agriculturous and servitudinous that the whites smelt a rat, and wished he - would go, fur they didn't want to chase him without they had to. - </p> - <p> - Jest when we was getting along fine one of them prominent citizens asts - the doctor was we there figgering on buying some land? - </p> - <p> - “No,” says the doctor, “we wasn't.” - </p> - <p> - They was silence fur quite a little spell. Each prominent citizen had - mebby had his hopes of unloading some. They all looks a little sad, and - then another prominent citizen asts us into the back room agin. - </p> - <p> - When we returns to the front room another prominent citizen makes a little - speech that was quite beautiful to hear, and says mebby we represents some - new concern that ain't never been in them parts and is figgering on buying - cotton. - </p> - <p> - “No,” the doctor says, “we ain't cotton buyers.” - </p> - <p> - Another prominent citizen has the idea mebby we is figgering on one of - these here inter-Reuben trolley lines, so the Rubes in one village can - ride over and visit the Rubes in the next. And another one thinks mebby we - is figgering on a telephone line. And each one makes a very eloquent - little speech about them things, and rings in something about our fair - Southland. And when both of them misses their guess it is time fur another - visit to the back room. - </p> - <p> - Was we selling something? - </p> - <p> - We was. - </p> - <p> - Was we selling fruit trees? - </p> - <p> - We wasn't. - </p> - <p> - Finally, after every one has a chew of natcheral leaf tobaccer all around, - one prominent citizen makes so bold as to ast us very courteous if he - might enquire what it was we was selling. - </p> - <p> - The doctor says medicine. - </p> - <p> - Then they was a slow grin went around that there crowd of prominent - citizens. And once agin we has to make a trip to that back room. Fur they - are all sure we must be taking orders fur something to beat that there - prohibition game. When they misses that guess they all gets kind of - thoughtful and sad. A couple of 'em don't take no more interest in us, but - goes along home sighing-like, as if it wasn't no difference <i>what</i> we - sold as long as it wasn't what they was looking fur. - </p> - <p> - But purty soon one of them asts: - </p> - <p> - “What <i>kind</i> of medicine?” - </p> - <p> - The doctor, he tells about it. - </p> - <p> - When he finishes you never seen such a change as had come onto the faces - of that bunch. I never seen such disgusted prominent citizens in my hull - life. They looked at each other embarrassed, like they had been ketched at - something ornery. And they went out one at a time, saying good night to - the hotel-keeper and in the most pinted way taking no notice of us at all. - It certainly was a chill. We sees something is wrong, and we begins to - have a notion of what it is. - </p> - <p> - The hotel-keeper, he spits out his chew, and goes behind his little - counter and takes a five-cent cigar out of his little show case and bites - the end off careful. Then he leans his elbows onto his counter and reads - our names to himself out of the register book, and looks at us, and from - us to the names, and from the names to us, like he is trying to figger out - how he come to let us write 'em there. Then he wants to know where we come - from before we come to Atlanta, where we had registered from. We tells him - we is from the North. He lights his cigar like he didn't think much of - that cigar and sticks it in his mouth and looks at us so long in an - absent-minded kind of way it goes out. - </p> - <p> - Then he says we orter go back North. - </p> - <p> - “Why?” asts the doctor. - </p> - <p> - He chewed his cigar purty nigh up to the middle of it before he answered, - and when he spoke it was a soft kind of a drawl—not mad or loud—but - like they was sorrowful thoughts working in him. - </p> - <p> - “Yo' all done struck the wo'st paht o' the South to peddle yo' niggah - medicine in, sah. I reckon yo' must love 'em a heap to be that concerned - over the colour of their skins.” - </p> - <p> - And he turned his back on us and went into the back room all by himself. - </p> - <p> - We seen we was in wrong in that town. The doctor says it will be no use - trying to interduce our stuff there, and we might as well leave there in - the morning and go over to Bairdstown, which was a little place about ten - miles off the railroad, and make our start there. - </p> - <p> - So we got a rig the next morning and drove acrost the country. No one bid - us good-bye, neither, and Doctor Kirby says it's a wonder they rented us - the rig. - </p> - <p> - But before we started that morning we noticed a funny thing. We hadn't so - much as spoke to any nigger, except our own nigger Sam, and he couldn't of - told <i>all</i> the niggers in that town about the stuff to turn niggers - white, even if he had set up all night to do it. But every last nigger we - saw looked like he knowed something about us. Even after we left town our - nigger driver hailed two or three niggers in the road that acted - that-away. It seemed like they was all awful polite to us. And yet they - was different in their politeness than they was to them Georgia folks, - which is their natcheral-born bosses—acted more familiar, somehow, - as if they knowed we must be thinking about the same thing they was - thinking about. - </p> - <p> - About half-way to Bairdstown we stopped at a place to get a drink of - water. Seemingly the white folks was away fur the day, and an old nigger - come up and talked to our driver while Sam and us was at the well. - </p> - <p> - I seen them cutting their eyes at us, whilst they was unchecking the - hosses to let them drink too, and then I hearn the one that belonged there - say: - </p> - <p> - “Is yo' <i>suah</i> dat hit air dem?” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Suah!</i>” says the driver. - </p> - <p> - “How-come yo' so all-powerful <i>suah</i> about hit?” - </p> - <p> - The driver pertended the harness needed some fixing, and they went around - to the other side of the team and tinkered with one of the traces, - a-talking to each other. I hearn the old nigger say, kind of wonderized: - </p> - <p> - “Is dey a-gwine dar <i>now</i>?” - </p> - <p> - Sam, he was pulling a bucket of water up out of the well fur us with a - windlass. The doctor says to him: - </p> - <p> - “Sam, what does all this mean?” - </p> - <p> - Sam, he pertends he don't know what the doctor is talking about. But - Doctor Kirby he finally pins him down. Sam hemmed and hawed considerable, - making up his mind whether he better lie to us or not. Then, all of a - sudden, he busted out into an awful fit of laughing, and like to of fell - in the well. Seemingly he decided fur to tell us the truth. - </p> - <p> - From what Sam says that there bishop has been holding revival meetings in - Big Bethel, which is a nigger church right on the edge of Bairdstown, and - niggers fur miles around has been coming night after night, and some of - them whooping her up daytimes too. And the bishop has worked himself up - the last three or four nights to where he has been perdicting and - prophesying, fur the spirit has hit the meeting hard. - </p> - <p> - What he has been prophesying, Sam says, is the coming of a Messiah fur the - nigger race—a new Elishyah, he says, as will lead them from out'n - their inequality and bring 'em up to white standards right on the spot. - The whites has had their Messiah, the bishop says, but the niggers ain't - never had none of their <i>special own</i> yet. And they needs one bad, - and one is sure a-coming. - </p> - <p> - It seems the whites don't know yet jest what the bishop's been - a-preaching. But every nigger fur miles on every side of Big Bethel is - a-listening and a-looking fur signs and omens, and has been fur two, three - days now. This here half-crazy bishop has got 'em worked up to where they - is ready to believe anything, or do anything. - </p> - <p> - So the night before when the word got out in Cottonville that we had some - scheme to make the niggers white, the niggers there took up with the idea - that the doctor was mebby the feller the bishop had been prophesying - about, and for a sign and a omen and a miracle of his grace and powers was - going out to Big Bethel to turn 'em white. Poor devils, they didn't see - but what being turned white orter be a part of what they was to get from - the coming of that there Messiah. - </p> - <p> - News spreads among niggers quicker than among whites. No one knows how - they do it. But I've hearn tales about how when war times was there, they - would frequent have the news of a big fight before the white folks' papers - would. Soldiers has told me that in them there Philippine Islands we - conquered from Spain, where they is so much nigger blood mixed up with - other kinds in the islanders, this mysterious spreading around of news is - jest the same. And jest since nine o'clock the night before, the news had - spread fur miles around that Bishop Warren's Messiah was on his way, and - was going fur to turn the bishop white to show his power and grace, and he - had with him one he had turned part white, and that was Sam, and one he - had turned clear white, and that was me. And they was to be signs and - wonders to behold at Big Bethel, with pillars of cloud and sounds of - trumpets and fire squirting down from heaven, like it always use to be in - them old Bible days, and them there niggers to be led singing and shouting - and rejoicing into a land of milk and honey, forevermore, <i>Amen!</i> - </p> - <p> - That's what Sam says they are looking fur, dozens and scores and hundreds - of them niggers round about. Sam, he had lived in town five or six years, - and he looked down on all these here ignoramus country niggers. So he - busts out laughing at first, and he pertends like he don't take no stock - in any of it. Besides, he knowed well enough he wasn't spotted up by no - Messiah, but it was the dope in the bottles done it. But as he told about - them goings-on Sam got more and more interested and warmed up to it, and - his voice went into a kind of a sing-song like he was prophesying himself. - And the other two niggers quit pertending to fool around the team and - edged a little closeter, and a little closeter yet, with their mouths open - and their heads a-nodding and the whites of their eyes a-rolling. - </p> - <p> - Fur my part, I never hearn such a lot of dern foolishness in all my life. - But the doctor, he says nothing at all. He listens to Sam ranting and - rolling out big words and raving, and only frowns. He climbs back into the - buggy agin silent, and all the rest of the way to Bairdstown he set there - with that scowl on his face. I guesses he was thinking now, the way things - had shaped up, he wouldn't sell none of his stuff at all without he fell - right in with the reception chance had planned fur him. But if he did fall - in with it, and pertend like he was a Messiah to them niggers, he could - get all they had. He was mebby thinking how much ornerier that would make - the hull scheme. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e got to - Bairdstown early enough, but we didn't go to work there. We wasted all - that day. They was something working in the doctor's head he wasn't - talking about. I supposed he was getting cold feet on the hull - proposition. Anyhow, he jest set around the little tavern in that place - and done nothing all afternoon. - </p> - <p> - The weather was fine, and we set out in front. We hadn't set there more'n - an hour till I could tell we was being noticed by the blacks, not out open - and above board. But every now and then one or two or three would pass - along down the street, and lazy about and take a look at us. They - pertended they wasn't noticing, but they was. The word had got around, and - they was a feeling in the air I didn't like at all. Too much caged-up - excitement among the niggers. The doctor felt it too, I could see that. - But neither one of us said anything about it to the other. - </p> - <p> - Along toward dusk we takes a walk. They was a good-sized crick at the edge - of that little place, and on it an old-fashioned worter mill. Above the - mill a little piece was a bridge. We crossed it and walked along a road - that follered the crick bank closte fur quite a spell. - </p> - <p> - It wasn't much of a town—something betwixt a village and a - settlement—although they was going to run a branch of the railroad - over to it before very long. It had had a chancet to get a railroad once, - years before that. But it had said then it didn't want no railroad. So - until lately every branch built through that part of the country grinned - very sarcastic and give it the go-by. - </p> - <p> - They was considerable woods standing along the crick, and around a turn in - the road we come onto Sam, all of a sudden, talking with another nigger. - Sam was jest a-laying it off to that nigger, but he kind of hushed as we - come nearer. Down the road quite a little piece was a good-sized wooden - building that never had been painted and looked like it was a big barn. - Without knowing it the doctor and me had been pinting ourselves right - toward Big Bethel. - </p> - <p> - The nigger with Sam he yells out, when he sees us: - </p> - <p> - “Glory be! <i>Hyah</i> dey comes! Hyah dey comes <i>now!</i>” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0265.jpg" alt="0265 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0265.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - And he throwed up his arms, and started on a lope up the road toward the - church, singing out every ten or fifteen yards. A little knot of niggers - come out in front of the church when they hearn him coming. - </p> - <p> - Sam, he stood his ground, and waited fur us to come up to him, kind of - apologetic and sneaking—looking about something or other. - </p> - <p> - “What kind of lies have you been telling these niggers, Sam?” says the - doctor, very sharp and short and mad-like. - </p> - <p> - Sam, he digs a stone out'n the road with the toe of his shoe, and kind of - grins to himself, still looking sheepish. But he says he opinionates he - been telling them nothing at all. - </p> - <p> - “I dunno how-come dey get all dem nigger notions in dey fool haid,” Sam - says, “but dey all waitin' dar inside de chu'ch do'—some of de mos' - faiful an' de mos' pra'rful ones o' de Big Bethel cong'gation been dar fo' - de las' houah a-waitin' an' a-watchin', spite o' de fac' dat reg'lah - meetin' ain't gwine ter be called twell arter supper. De bishop, he dar - too. Dey got some dese hyah coal-ile lamps dar des inside de chu'ch do' - an' dey been keepin' on 'em lighted, daytimes an' night times, fo' two - days now, kaze dey say dey ain't gwine fo' ter be cotched napping when de - bridegroom <i>com</i>eth. Yass, <i>sah!</i>—dey's ten o' dese hyah - vergims dar, five of 'em sleepin' an' five of 'em watchin', an' a-takin' - tuhns at hit, an' mebby dat how-come free or fouah dey bes' young colo'hed - mens been projickin' aroun' dar all arternoon, a-helpin' dem dat's - a-waitin' twell de bridegroom <i>com</i>eth!” - </p> - <p> - We seen a little knot of them, down the road there in front of the church, - gathering around the nigger that had been with Sam. They all starts toward - us. But one man steps out in front of them all, and turns toward them and - holds his hands up, and waves them back. They all stops in their tracks. - </p> - <p> - Then he turns his face toward us, and comes slow and sollum down the road - in our direction, walking with a cane, and moving very dignified. He was a - couple of hundred yards away. - </p> - <p> - But as he come closeter we gradually seen him plainer and plainer. He was - a big man, and stout, and dressed very neat in the same kind of rig as - white bishops wear, with one of these white collars that buttons in the - back. I suppose he was coming on to meet us alone, because no one was - fitten fur to give us the first welcome but himself. - </p> - <p> - Well, it was all dern foolishness, and it was hard to believe it could all - happen, and they ain't so many places in this here country it <i>could</i> - happen. But fur all of it being foolishness, when he come down the road - toward us so dignified and sollum and slow I ketched myself fur a minute - feeling like we really had been elected to something and was going to take - office soon. And Sam, as the bishop come closeter and closeter, got to - jerking and twitching with the excitement that he had been keeping in—and - yet all the time Sam knowed it was dope and works and not faith that had - made him spotted that-a-way. - </p> - <p> - He stops, the bishop does, about ten yards from us and looks us over. - </p> - <p> - “Ah yo' de gennleman known ter dis hyah sinful genehation by de style an' - de entitlemint o' Docto' Hahtley Kirby?” he asts the doctor very - ceremonious and grand. - </p> - <p> - The doctor give him a look that wasn't very encouraging, but he nodded to - him. - </p> - <p> - “Will yo' dismiss yo' sehvant in ordeh dat we kin hol' convehse an' - communion in de midst er privacy?” - </p> - <p> - The doctor, he nods to Sam, and Sam moseys along toward the church. - </p> - <p> - “Now, then,” says the doctor, sudden and sharp, “take off your hat and - tell me what you want.” - </p> - <p> - The bishop's hand goes up to his head with a jerk before he thought. Then - it stops there, while him and the doctor looks at each other. The bishop's - mouth opens like he was wondering, but he slowly pulls his hat off and - stands there bare-headed in the road. But he wasn't really humble, that - bishop. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” says the doctor, “tell me in as straight talk as you've got what - all this damned foolishness among you niggers means.” - </p> - <p> - A queer kind of look passed over the bishop's face. He hadn't expected to - be met jest that way, mebby. Whether he himself had really believed in the - coming of that there new Messiah he had been perdicting, I never could - settle in my mind. Mebby he had been getting ready to pass <i>Himself</i> - off fur one before we come along and the niggers all got the fool idea - Doctor Kirby was it. Before the bishop spoke agin you could see his - craziness and his cunningness both working in his face. But when he did - speak he didn't quit being ceremonious nor dignified. - </p> - <p> - “De wohd has gone fo'th among de faiful an' de puah in heaht,” he says, - “dat er man has come accredited wi' signs an' wi' mahvels an' de poweh o' - de sperrit fo' to lay his han' on de sons o' Ham an' ter make 'em des de - same in colluh as de yuther sons of ea'th.” - </p> - <p> - “Then that word is a lie,” says the doctor. “I <i>did</i> come here to try - out some stuff to change the colour of negro skins. That's all. And I find - your idiotic followers are all stirred up and waiting for some kind of a - miracle monger. What you have been preaching to them, you know best. Is - that all you want to know?” - </p> - <p> - The bishop hems and haws and fiddles with his stick, and then he says: - </p> - <p> - “Suh, will dish yeah prepa'shun <i>sho'ly</i> do de wohk?” Doctor Kirby - tells him it will do the work all right. - </p> - <p> - And then the bishop, after beating around the bush some more, comes out - with his idea. Whether he expected there would be any Messiah come or not, - of course he knowed the doctor wasn't him. But he is willing to boost the - doctor's game as long as it boosts <i>his</i> game. He wants to be in on - the deal. He wants part of the graft. He wants to get together with the - doctor on a plan before the doctor sees the niggers. And if the doctor - don't want to keep on with the miracle end of it, the bishop shows him how - he could do him good with no miracle attachment. Fur he has an awful holt - on them niggers, and his say-so will sell thousands and thousands of - bottles. What he is looking fur jest now is his little take-out. - </p> - <p> - That was his craftiness and his cunningness working in him. But all of a - sudden one of his crazy streaks come bulging to the surface. It come with - a wild, eager look in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Suh,” he cries out, all of a sudden, “ef yo' kin make me white, fo' Gawd - sakes, do hit! Do hit! Ef yo' does, I gwine ter bless yo' all yo' days! - </p> - <p> - “Yo' don' know—no one kin guess or comperhen'—what des bein' - white would mean ter me! Lawd! Lawd!” he says, his voice soft-spoken, but - more eager than ever as he went on, and pleading something pitiful to - hear, “des think of all de Caucasian blood in me! Gawd knows de nights er - my youth I'se laid awake twell de dawn come red in de Eas' a-cryin' out - ter Him only fo' ter be white! <i>Des ter be white</i>! Don' min' dem - black, black niggers dar—don' think er <i>dem</i>—dey ain't - wuth nothin' nor fitten fo' no fate but what dey got—But me! What's - done kep' me from gwine ter de top but dat one thing: <i>I wasn't white!</i> - Hit air too late now—too late fo' dem ambitions I done trifle with - an' shove behin' me—hit's too late fo' dat! But ef I was des ter git - one li'l year o' hit—<i>one li'l year o' bein' white!</i>—befo' - I died—” - </p> - <p> - And he went on like that, shaking and stuttering there in the road, like a - fit had struck him, crazy as a loon. But he got hold of himself enough to - quit talking, in a minute, and his cunning come back to him before he was - through trembling. Then the doctor says slow and even, but not severe: - </p> - <p> - “You go back to your people now, bishop, and tell them they've made a - mistake about me. And if you can, undo the harm you've done with this - Messiah business. As far as this stuff of mine is concerned, there's none - of it for you nor for any other negro. You tell them that. There's none of - it been sold yet—and there never will be.” - </p> - <p> - Then we turned away and left him standing there in the road, still with - his hat off and his face working. - </p> - <p> - Walking back toward the little tavern the doctor says: - </p> - <p> - “Danny, this is the end of this game. These people down here and that - half-cracked, half-crooked old bishop have made me see a few things about - the Afro-American brother. It wasn't a good scheme in the first place. And - this wasn't the place to start it going, anyhow—I should have tried - the niggers in the big towns. But I'm out of it now, and I'm glad of it. - What we want to do is to get away from here to-morrow—go back to - Atlanta and fix up a scheme to rob some widows and orphans, or something - half-way respectable like that.” - </p> - <p> - Well, I drew a long breath. I was with Doctor Kirby in everything he done, - fur he was my friend, and I didn't intend to quit him. But I was glad we - was out of this, and hadn't sold none of that dope. We both felt better - because we hadn't. All them millions we was going to make—shucks! We - didn't neither one of us give a dern about them getting away from us. All - we wanted was jest to get away from there and not get mixed up with no - nigger problems any more. We eat supper, and we set around a while, and we - went to bed purty middling early, so as to get a good start in the - morning. - </p> - <p> - We got up early, but early as it was the devil had been up earlier in that - neighbourhood. About four o'clock that morning a white woman about a half - a mile from the village had been attacked by a nigger. They was doubt as - to whether she would live, but if she lived they wasn't no doubts she - would always be more or less crazy. Fur besides everything else, he had - beat her insensible. And he had choked her nearly to death. The - country-side was up, with guns and pistols looking fur that nigger. It - wasn't no trouble guessing what would happen to him when they ketched him, - neither. - </p> - <p> - “And,” says Doctor Kirby, when we hearn of it, “I hope to high heaven they - <i>do</i> catch him!” - </p> - <p> - They wasn't much doubt they would, either. They was already beating up the - woods and bushes and gangs was riding up and down the roads, and every - nigger's house fur miles around was being searched and watched. - </p> - <p> - We soon seen we would have trouble getting hosses and a rig in the village - to take us to the railroad. Many of the hosses was being ridden in the - man-hunt. And most of the men who might have done the driving was busy at - that too. The hotel-keeper himself had left his place standing wide open - and went out. We didn't get any breakfast neither. - </p> - <p> - “Danny,” says the doctor, “we'll just put enough money to pay the bill in - an envelope on the register here, and strike out on shank's ponies. It's - only nine or ten miles to the railroad—we'll walk.” - </p> - <p> - “But how about our stuff?” I asts him. We had two big cases full of sample - bottles of that dope, besides our suit cases. - </p> - <p> - “Hang the dope!” says the doctor, “I don't ever want to see it or hear of - it again! We'll leave it here. Put the things out of your suit case into - mine, and leave that here too. Sam can carry mine. I want to be on the - move.” - </p> - <p> - So we left, with Sam carrying the one suit case. It wasn't nine in the - morning yet, and we was starting out purty empty fur a long walk. - </p> - <p> - “Sam,” says the doctor, as we was passing that there Big Bethel church—and - it showed up there silent and shabby in the morning, like a old coloured - man that knows a heap more'n he's going to tell—“Sam, were you at - the meeting here last night?” - </p> - <p> - “Yass, suh!” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose it was a pretty tame affair after they found out their Elisha - wasn't coming after all?” - </p> - <p> - Sam, he walled his eyes, and then he kind of chuckled. - </p> - <p> - “Well, suh,” he says, “I 'spicions de mos' on 'em don' know dat <i>yit!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The doctor asts him what he means. - </p> - <p> - It seems the bishop must of done some thinking after we left him in the - road or on his way back to that church. They had all begun to believe that - there Elishyah was on the way to 'em, and the bishop's credit was more or - less wrapped up with our being it. It was true he hadn't started that - belief; but it was believed, and he didn't dare to stop it now. Fur, if he - stopped it, they would all think he had fell down on his prophetics, even - although he hadn't prophesied jest exactly us. He was in a tight place, - that bishop, but I bet you could always depend on him to get out of it - with his flock. So what he told them niggers at the meeting last night was - that he brung 'em a message from Elishyah, Sam says, the Elishyah that was - to come. And the message was that the time was not ripe fur him to reveal - himself as Elishyah unto the eyes of all men, fur they had been too much - sinfulness and wickedness and walking into the ways of evil, right amongst - that very congregation, and disobedience of the bishop, which was their - guide. And he had sent 'em word, Elishyah had, that the bishop was his - trusted servant, and into the keeping of the bishop was give the power to - deal with his people and prepare them fur the great day to come. And the - bishop would give the word of his coming. He was a box, that bishop was, - in spite of his crazy streaks; and he had found a way to make himself - stronger than ever with his bunch out of the very kind of thing that would - have spoiled most people's graft. They had had a big meeting till nearly - morning, and the power had hit 'em strong. Sam told us all about it. - </p> - <p> - But the thing that seemed to interest the doctor, and made him frown, was - the idea that all them niggers round about there still had the idea he was - the feller that had been prophesied to come. All except Sam, mebby. Sam - had spells when he was real sensible, and other spells when he was as bad - as the believingest of them all. - </p> - <p> - It was a fine day, and really joyous to be a-walking. It would of been a - good deal joyouser if we had had some breakfast, but we figgered we would - stop somewheres at noon and lay in a good, square, country meal. - </p> - <p> - That wasn't such a very thick settled country. But everybody seemed to - know about the manhunt that was going on, here, there, and everywhere. - People would come down to the road side as we passed, and gaze after us. - Or mebby ast us if we knowed whether he had been ketched yet. Women and - kids mostly, or old men, but now and then a younger man too. We noticed - they wasn't no niggers to speak of that wasn't busier'n all get out, - working at something or other, that day. - </p> - <p> - They is considerable woods in that country yet, though lots has been cut - off. But they was sometimes right long stretches where they would be woods - on both sides of the road, more or less thick, with underbrush between the - trees. We tramped along, each busy thinking his own thoughts, and having a - purty good time jest doing that without there being no use of talking. I - was thinking that I liked the doctor better fur turning his back on all - this game, jest when he might of made some sort of a deal with the bishop - and really made some money out of it in the end. He never was so good a - business man as he thought he was, Doctor Kirby wasn't. He always could - make himself think he was. But when it come right down to brass tacks he - wasn't. You give him a scheme that would <i>talk</i> well, the kind of a - josh talk he liked to get off fur his own enjoyment, and he would take up - with it every time instead of one that had more promise of money to it if - it was worked harder. He was thinking of the <i>talk</i> more'n he was of - the money, mostly; and he was always saying something about art fur art's - sake, which was plumb foolishness, fur he never painted no pictures. Well, - he never got over being more or less of a puzzle to me. But fur some - reason or other this morning he seemed to be in a better humour with - himself, after we had walked a while, than I had seen him in fur a long - time. - </p> - <p> - We come to the top of one long hill, which it had made us sweat to climb, - and without saying nothing to each other we both stopped and took off our - hats and wiped our foreheads, and drawed long breaths, content to stand - there fur jest a minute or two and look around us. The road run straight - ahead, and dipped down, and then clumb up another hill about an eighth of - a mile in front of us. It made a little valley. Jest about the middle, - between the two hills, a crick meandered through the bottom land. Woods - growed along the crick, and along both sides of the road we was - travelling. Right nigh the crick they was another road come out of the - woods to the left-hand side, and switched into the road we was travelling, - and used the same bridge to cross the crick by. They was three or four - houses here and there, with chimbleys built up on the outside of them, and - blue smoke coming out. We stood and looked at the sight before us and - forgot all the troubles we had left behind, fur a couple of minutes—it - all looked so peaceful and quiet and homeyfied and nice. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says the doctor, after we had stood there a piece, “I guess we - better be moving on again, Danny.” - </p> - <p> - But jest as Sam, who was follering along behind with that suit case, picks - it up and puts it on his head agin, they come a sound, from away off in - the distance somewheres, that made him set it down quick. And we all stops - in our tracks and looks at each other. - </p> - <p> - It was the voice of a hound dog—not so awful loud, but clear and - mellow and tuneful, and carried to us on the wind. And then in a minute it - come agin, sharper and quicker. They yells like that when they have struck - a scent. - </p> - <p> - As we stood and looked at each other they come a crackle in the - underbrush, jest to the left of us. We turned our heads that-a-way, jest - as a nigger man give a leap to the top of a rail fence that separated the - road from the woods. He was going so fast that instead of climbing that - fence and balancing on the top and jumping off he jest simply seemed to - hit the top rail and bounce on over, like he had been throwed out of the - heart of the woods, and he fell sprawling over and over in the road, right - before our feet. - </p> - <p> - He was onto his feet in a second, and fur a minute he stood up straight - and looked at us—an ashes-coloured nigger, ragged and bleeding from - the underbrush, red-eyed, and with slavers trickling from his red lips, - and sobbing and gasping and panting fur breath. Under his brown skin, - where his shirt was torn open acrost his chest, you could see that - nigger's heart a-beating. - </p> - <p> - But as he looked at us they come a sudden change acrost his face—he - must of seen the doctor before, and with a sob he throwed himself on his - knees in the road and clasped his hands and held 'em out toward Doctor - Kirby. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Elishyah</i>! <i>Elishyah</i>!” he sings out, rocking of his body in a - kind of tune, “reveal yo'se'f, reveal yo'se'f an' he'p me <i>now!</i> Lawd - Gawd <i>Elishyah</i>, beckon fo' a <i>Cha</i>'iot, yo' cha'iot of <i>fiah!</i> - Lif' me, lif' me—lif' me away f'um hyah in er cha'iot o' <i>fiah!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The doctor, he turned his head away, and I knowed the thought working in - him was the thought of that white woman that would always be an idiot for - life, if she lived. But his lips was dumb, and his one hand stretched - itself out toward that nigger in the road and made a wiping motion, like - he was trying fur to wipe the picture of him, and the thought of him, - off'n a slate forevermore. - </p> - <p> - Jest then, nearer and louder and sharper, and with an eager sound, like - they knowed they almost had him now, them hounds' voices come ringing - through the woods, and with them come the mixedup shouts of men. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Run!</i>” yells Sam, waving of that suit case round his head, fur one - nigger will always try to help another no matter what he's done. “Run fo' - de branch—git yo' foots in de worter an' fling 'em off de scent!” - </p> - <p> - He bounded down the hill, that red-eyed nigger, and left us standing - there. But before he reached the crick the whole man-hunt come busting - through the woods, the dogs a-straining at their straps. The men was all - on foot, with guns and pistols in their hands. They seen the nigger, and - they all let out a yell, and was after him. They ketched him at the crick, - and took him off along that road that turned off to the left. I hearn - later he was a member of Bishop Warren's congregation, so they hung him - right in front of Big Bethel church. - </p> - <p> - We stood there on top of the hill and saw the chase and capture. Doctor - Kirby's face was sweating worse than when we first clumb the hill. He was - thinking about that nigger that had pleaded with him. He was thinking also - of the woman. He was glad it hadn't been up to him personal right then and - there to butt in and stop a lynching. He was glad, fur with them two - pictures in front of him he didn't know what he would of done. - </p> - <p> - “Thank heaven!” I hearn him say to himself. “Thank heaven that it wasn't - <i>really</i> in my power to choose!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ell, we had pork - and greens fur dinner that day, with the best corn-bread I ever eat - anywheres, and buttermilk, and sweet potato pie. We got 'em at the house - of a feller named Withers—Old Daddy Withers. Which if they was ever - a nicer old man than him, or a nicer old woman than his wife, I never run - acrost 'em yet. - </p> - <p> - They lived all alone, them Witherses, with only a couple of niggers to - help them run their farm. After we eats our dinner and Sam gets his'n out - to the kitchen, we sets out in front of the house and gets to talking with - them, and gets real well acquainted. Which we soon found out the secret of - old Daddy Withers's life—that there innocent-looking old jigger was - a poet. He was kind of proud of it and kind of shamed of it both to oncet. - The way it come out was when the doctor says one of them quotations he is - always getting off, and the old man he looks pleased and says the rest of - the piece it dropped out of straight through. - </p> - <p> - Then they had a great time quoting it at each other, them two, and I seen - the doctor is good to loaf around there the rest of the day, like as not. - Purty soon the old lady begins to get mighty proud-looking over something - or other, and she leans over and whispers to the old man: - </p> - <p> - “Shall I bring it out, Lemuel?” - </p> - <p> - The old man, he shakes his head, no. But she slips into the house anyhow, - and fetches out a little book with a pale green cover to it, and hands it - to the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “Bless my soul,” says Doctor Kirby, looking at the old man, “you don't - mean to say you write verse yourself?” - </p> - <p> - The old man, he gets red all over his face, and up into the roots of his - white hair, and down into his white beard, and makes believe he is a - little mad at the old lady fur showing him off that-a-way. - </p> - <p> - “Mother,” he says, “yo' shouldn't have done that!” They had had a boy - years before, and he had died, but he always called her mother the same as - if the boy was living. He goes into the house and gets his pipe, and - brings it out and lights it, acting like that book of poetry was a mighty - small matter to him. But he looks at Doctor Kirby out of the corner of his - eyes, and can't keep from getting sort of eager and trembly with his pipe; - and I could see he was really anxious over what the doctor was thinking of - them poems he wrote. The doctor reads some of 'em out loud. - </p> - <p> - Well, it was kind of home-made poetry, Old Daddy Withers's was. It wasn't - like no other poetry I ever struck. And I could tell the doctor was - thinking the same about it. It sounded somehow like it hadn't been jointed - together right. You would keep listening fur it to rhyme, and get all - worked up watching and waiting fur it to, and make bets with yourself - whether it would rhyme or it wouldn't. And then it ginerally wouldn't. I - never hearn such poetry to get a person's expectances all worked up, and - then go back on 'em. But if you could of told what it was all about, you - wouldn't of minded that so much. Not that you can tell what most poetry is - about, but you don't care so long as it keeps hopping along lively. What - you want in poetry to make her sound good, according to my way of - thinking, is to make her jump lively, and then stop with a bang on the - rhymes. But Daddy Withers was so independent-like he would jest - natcherally try to force two words to rhyme whether the Lord made 'em fur - mates or not—like as if you would try to make a couple of kids kiss - and make up by bumping their heads together. They jest simply won't do it. - But Doctor Kirby, he let on like he thought it was fine poetry, and he - read them pieces over and over agin, out loud, and the old man and the old - woman was both mighty tickled with the way he done it. He wouldn't of had - 'em know fur anything he didn't believe it was the finest poetry ever - wrote, Doctor Kirby wouldn't. - </p> - <p> - They was four little books of it altogether. Slim books that looked as if - they hadn't had enough to eat, like a stray cat whose ribs is rubbing - together. It had cost Daddy Withers five hundred dollars apiece to get 'em - published. A feller in Boston charged him that much, he said. It seems he - would go along fur years, raking and scraping of his money together, so as - to get enough ahead to get out another book. Each time he had his hopes - the big newspapers would mebby pay some attention to it, and he would get - recognized. - </p> - <p> - “But they never did,” said the old man, kind of sad, “it always fell - flat.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, <i>father!</i>”—the old lady begins, and finishes by running - back into the house agin. She is out in a minute with a clipping from a - newspaper and hands it over to Doctor Kirby, as proud as a kid with - copper-toed boots. The doctor reads it all the way through, and then he - hands it back without saying a word. The old lady goes away to fiddle - around about the housework purty soon and the old man looks at the doctor - and says: - </p> - <p> - “Well, you see, don't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says the doctor, very gentle. - </p> - <p> - “I wouldn't have <i>her</i> know for the world,” says Daddy Withers. “<i>I</i> - know and <i>you</i> know that newspaper piece is just simply poking fun at - my poetry, and making a fool of me, the whole way through. As soon as I - read it over careful I saw it wasn't really praise, though there was a - minute or two I thought my recognition had come. But <i>she</i> don't know - it ain't serious from start to finish. <i>She</i> was all-mighty pleased - when that piece come out in print. And I don't intend she ever shall know - it ain't real praise.” - </p> - <p> - His wife was so proud when that piece come out in that New York paper, he - said, she cried over it. She said now she was glad they had been doing - without things fur years and years so they could get them little books - printed, one after the other, fur now fame was coming. But sometimes, - Daddy Withers says, he suspicions she really knows he has been made a fool - of, and is pertending not to see it, fur his sake, the same as he is - pertending fur <i>her</i> sake. Well, they was a mighty nice old couple, - and the doctor done a heap of pertending fur both their sakes—they - wasn't nothing else to do. - </p> - <p> - “How'd you come to get started at it?” he asts. - </p> - <p> - Daddy Withers says he don't rightly know. Mebby, he says, it was living - there all his life and watching things growing—watching the cotton - grow, and the corn and getting acquainted with birds and animals and trees - and things. Helping of things to grow, he says, is a good way to - understand how God must feel about humans. For what you plant and help to - grow, he says, you are sure to get to caring a heap about. You can't help - it. And that is the reason, he says, God can be depended on to pull the - human race through in the end, even if appearances do look to be agin His - doing it sometimes, fur He started it to growing in the first place and - that-a-way He got interested personal in it. And that is the main idea, he - says, he has all the time been trying to get into that there poetry of - his'n. But he reckons he ain't got her in. Leastways, he says, no one has - never seen her there but the doctor and the old lady and himself. Well, - for my part, I never would of seen it there myself, but when he said it - out plain like that any one could of told what he meant. - </p> - <p> - You hadn't orter lay things up agin folks if the folks can't help 'em. And - I will say Daddy Withers was a fine old boy in spite of his poetry. Which - it never really done any harm, except being expensive to him, and lots - will drink that much up and never figger it an expense, but one of the - necessities of life. We went all over his place with him, and we noticed - around his house a lot of tin cans tacked up to posts and trees. They was - fur the birds to drink out of, and all the birds around there had found - out about it, and about Daddy Withers, and wasn't scared of him at all. He - could get acquainted with animals, too, so that after a long spell - sometimes they would even let him handle them. But not if any one was - around. They was a crow he had made a pet of, used to hop around in front - of him, and try fur to talk to him. If he went to sleep in the front yard - whilst he was reading, that crow had a favourite trick of stealing his - spectacles off'n his nose and flying up to the ridgepole of the house, and - cawing at him. Once he had been setting out a row of tomato plants very - careful, and he got to the end of the row and turned around, and that - there crow had been hopping along behind very sollum, pulling up each - plant as he set it out. It acted like it had done something mighty smart, - and knowed it, that crow. So after that the old man named him Satan, fur - he said it was Satan's trick to keep things from growing. They was some - blue and white pigeons wasn't scared to come and set on his shoulders; but - you could see the old man really liked that crow Satan better'n any of - them. - </p> - <p> - Well, we hung around all afternoon listening to the old man talk, and - liking him better and better. First thing we knowed it was getting along - toward supper time. And nothing would do but we must stay to supper, too. - We was pinted toward a place on the railroad called Smithtown, but when we - found we couldn't get a train from there till ten o'clock that night - anyhow, and it was only three miles away, we said we'd stay. - </p> - <p> - After supper we calculated we'd better move. But the old man wouldn't hear - of us walking that three miles. So about eight o'clock he hitched up a - mule to a one-hoss wagon, and we jogged along. - </p> - <p> - They was a yaller moon sneaking up over the edge of the world when we - started. It was so low down in the sky yet that it threw long shadders on - the road, and they was thick and black ones, too. Because they was a lot - of trees alongside the road, and the road was narrow, we went ahead mostly - through the darkness, with here and there patches of moonlight splashed - onto the ground. Doctor Kirby and Old Man Withers was setting on the seat, - still gassing away about books and things, and I was setting on the suit - case in the wagon box right behind 'em. Sam, he was sometimes in the back - of the wagon. He had been more'n half asleep all afternoon, but now it was - night he was waked up, the way niggers and cats will do, and every once in - a while he would get out behind and cut a few capers in a moonlight patch, - jest fur the enjoyment of it, and then run and ketch up with the wagon and - crawl in agin, fur it was going purty slow. - </p> - <p> - The ground was sandy in spots, and I guess we made a purty good load fur - Beck, the old mule. She stopped, going up a little slope, after we had - went about a mile from the Witherses'. Sam says he'll get out and walk, - fur the wheels was in purty deep, and it was hard going. - </p> - <p> - “Giddap, Beck!” says the old man. - </p> - <p> - But Beck, she won't. She don't stand like she is stuck, neither, but like - she senses danger somewheres about. A hoss might go ahead into danger, but - a mule is more careful of itself and never goes butting in unless it feels - sure they is a way out. - </p> - <p> - “Giddap,” says the old man agin. - </p> - <p> - But jest then the shadders on both sides of the road comes to life. They - wakes up, and moves all about us. It was done so sudden and quiet it was - half a minute before I seen it wasn't shadders but about thirty men had - gathered all about us on every side. They had guns. - </p> - <p> - “Who are you? What d'ye want?” asts the old man, startled, as three or - four took care of the mule's head very quick and quiet. - </p> - <p> - “Don't be skeered, Daddy Withers,” says a drawly voice out of the dark; - “we ain't goin' to hurt <i>you</i>. We got a little matter o' business to - tend to with them two fellers yo' totin' to town.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HIRTY men with - guns would be considerable of a proposition to buck against, so we didn't - try it. They took us out of the wagon, and they pinted us down the road, - steering us fur a country schoolhouse which was, I judged from their talk, - about a quarter of a mile away. They took us silent, fur after we found - they didn't answer no questions we quit asking any. We jest walked along, - and guessed what we was up against, and why. Daddy Withers, he trailed - along behind. They had tried to send him along home, but he wouldn't go. - So they let him foller and paid no more heed to him. - </p> - <p> - Sam, he kept a-talking and a-begging, and several men a-telling of him to - shut up. And him not a-doing it. Till finally one feller says very - disgusted-like: - </p> - <p> - “Boys, I'm going to turn this nigger loose.” - </p> - <p> - “We'll want his evidence,” says another one. - </p> - <p> - “Evidence!” says the first one. “What's the evidence of a scared nigger - worth?” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon that one this afternoon was considerable scared, when he give us - that evidence against himself—that is, if you call it evidence.” - </p> - <p> - “A nigger can give evidence against a nigger, and it's all right,” says - another voice—which it come from a feller that had a-holt of my - wrist on the left-hand side of me—“but these are white men we are - going to try to-night. The case is too serious to take nigger evidence. - Besides, I reckon we got all the evidence any one could need. This nigger - ain't charged with any crime himself, and my idea is that he ain't to be - allowed to figure one way or the other in this thing.” - </p> - <p> - So they turned Sam loose. I never seen nor hearn tell of Sam since then. - They fired a couple of guns into the air as he started down the road, jest - fur fun, and mebby he is running yet. - </p> - <p> - The feller had been talking like he was a lawyer, so I asts him what crime - we was charged with. But he didn't answer me. And jest then we gets in - sight of that schoolhouse. - </p> - <p> - It set on top of a little hill, partially in the moonlight, with a few - sad-looking pine trees scattered around it, and the fence in front broke - down. Even after night you could see it was a shabby-looking little place. - </p> - <p> - Old Daddy Withers tied his mule to the broken down fence. Somebody busted - the front door down. Somebody else lighted matches. The first thing I - knowed, we was all inside, and four or five dirty little coal oil lamps, - with tin reflectors to 'em, which I s'pose was used ordinary fur school - exhibitions, was being lighted. - </p> - <p> - We was waltzed up onto the teacher's platform, Doctor Kirby and me, and - set down in chairs there, with two men to each of us, and then a tall, - rawboned feller stalks up to the teacher's desk, and raps on it with the - butt end of a pistol, and says: - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen, this meeting will come to order.” - </p> - <p> - Which they was orderly enough before that, but they all took off their - hats when he rapped, like in a court room or a church, and most of 'em set - down. - </p> - <p> - They set down in the school kids' seats, or on top of the desks, and their - legs stuck out into the aisles, and they looked uncomfortable and awkward. - But they looked earnest and they looked sollum, too, and they wasn't no - joking nor skylarking going on, nor no kind of rowdyness, neither. These - here men wasn't toughs, by any manner of means, but the most part of 'em - respectable farmers. They had a look of meaning business. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen,” says the feller who had rapped, “who will you have for your - chairman?” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon you'll do, Will,” says another feller to the raw-boned man, - which seemed to satisfy him. But he made 'em vote on it before he took - office. - </p> - <p> - “Now then,” says Will, “the accused must have counsel.” - </p> - <p> - “Will,” says another feller, very hasty, “what's the use of all this fuss - an' feathers? You know as well as I do there's nothing legal about this. - It's only necessary. For my part—” - </p> - <p> - “Buck Hightower,” says Will, pounding on the desk, “you will please come - to order.” Which Buck done it. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” says the chairman, turning toward Doctor Kirby, who had been - setting there looking thoughtful from one man to another, like he was - sizing each one up, “now I must explain to the chief defendant that we - don't intend to lynch him.” - </p> - <p> - He stopped a second on that word __lynch__ as if to let it soak in. The - doctor, he bowed toward him very cool and ceremonious, and says, mocking - of him: - </p> - <p> - “You reassure me, Mister—Mister—What is your name?” He said it - in a way that would of made a saint mad. - </p> - <p> - “My name ain't any difference,” says Will, trying not to show he was - nettled. - </p> - <p> - “You are quite right,” says the doctor, looking Will up and down from head - to foot, very slow and insulting, “it's of no consequence in the world.” - </p> - <p> - Will, he flushed up, but he makes himself steady and cool, and he goes on - with his little speech: “There is to be no lynching here to-night. There - is to be a trial, and, if necessary, an execution.” - </p> - <p> - “Would it be asking too much,” says the doctor very polite, “if I were to - inquire who is to be tried, and before what court, and upon what charge?” - </p> - <p> - There was a clearing of throats and a shuffling of feet fur a minute. One - old deaf feller, with a red nose, who had his hand behind his ear and was - leaning forward so as not to miss a breath of what any one said, ast his - neighbour in a loud whisper, “How?” Then an undersized little feller, who - wasn't a farmer by his clothes, got up and moved toward the platform. He - had a bulging-out forehead, and thin lips, and a quick, nervous way about - him: - </p> - <p> - “You are to be tried,” he says to the doctor, speaking in a kind of shrill - sing-song that cut your nerves in that room full of bottled-up excitement - like a locust on a hot day. “You are to be tried before this - self-constituted court of Caucasian citizens—Anglo-Saxons, sir, - every man of them, whose forbears were at Runnymede! The charge against - you is stirring up the negroes of this community to the point of revolt. - You are accused, sir, of representing yourself to them as some kind of a - Moses. You are arraigned here for endangering the peace of the county and - the supremacy of the Caucasian race by inspiring in the negroes the hope - of equality.” - </p> - <p> - Old Daddy Withers had been setting back by the door. I seen him get up and - slip out. It didn't look to me to be any place fur a gentle old poet. - While that little feller was making that charge you could feel the air - getting tingly, like it does before a rain storm. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0297.jpg" alt="0297 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0297.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Some fellers started to clap their hands like at a political rally and to - say, “Go it, Billy!” “That's right, Harden!” Which I found out later Billy - Harden was in the state legislature, and quite a speaker, and knowed it. - Will, the chairman, he pounded down the applause, and then he says to the - doctor, pointing to Billy Harden: - </p> - <p> - “No man shall say of us that we did not give you a fair trial and a square - deal. I'm goin' to appoint this gentleman as your counsel, and I'm goin' - to give you a reasonable time to talk with him in private and prepare your - case. He is the ablest lawyer in southwest Georgia and the brightest son - of Watson County.” - </p> - <p> - The doctor looks kind of lazy and Bill Harden, and back agin at Will, the - chairman, and smiles out of the corner of his mouth. Then he says, sort of - taking in the rest of the crowd with his remark, like them two standing - there paying each other compliments wasn't nothing but a joke: - </p> - <p> - “I hope neither of you will take it too much to heart if I'm not impressed - by your sense of justice—or your friend's ability.” - </p> - <p> - “Then,” said Will, “I take it that you intend to act as your own counsel?” - </p> - <p> - “You may take it,” says the doctor, rousing of himself up, “you may take - it—from me—that I refuse to recognize you and your crowd as a - court of any kind; that I know nothing of the silly accusations against - me; that I find no reason at all why I should take the trouble of making a - defence before an armed mob that can only mean one of two things.” - </p> - <p> - “One of two things?” says Will. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says the doctor, very quiet, but raising his voice a little and - looking him hard in the eyes. “You and your gang can mean only one of two - things. Either a bad joke, or else—” - </p> - <p> - And he stopped a second, leaning forward in his chair, with the look of - half raising out of it, so as to bring out the word very decided— - </p> - <h3> - “<i>MURDER!</i>” - </h3> - <p> - The way he done it left that there word hanging in the room, so you could - almost see it and almost feel it there, like it was a thing that had to be - faced and looked at and took into account. They all felt it that-a-way, - too; fur they wasn't a sound fur a minute. Then Will says: - </p> - <p> - “We don't plan murder, and you'll find this ain't a joke. And since you - refuse to accept counsel—” - </p> - <p> - Jest then Buck Hightower interrupts him by yelling out, “I make a motion - Billy Harden be prosecuting attorney, then. Let's hurry this thing along!” - And several started to applaud, and call fur Billy Harden to prosecute. - But Will, he pounded down the applause agin, and says: - </p> - <p> - “I was about to suggest that Mr. Harden might be prevailed upon to accept - that task.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says the doctor, very gentle and easy. “Quite so! I fancied myself - that Mr. Harden came along with the idea of making a speech either for or - against.” And he grinned at Billy Harden in a way that seemed to make him - wild, though he tried not to show it. Somehow the doctor seemed to be all - keyed up, instead of scared, like a feller that's had jest enough to drink - to give him a fighting edge. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Chairman,” says Billy Harden, flushing up and stuttering jest a - little, “I b-beg leave to d-d-decline.” - </p> - <p> - “What,” says the doctor, sort of playing with Billy with his eyes and - grin, and turning like to let the whole crowd in on the joke, “<i>decline</i>? - The eminent gentleman declines! And he is going to sit down, too, with all - that speech bottled up in him! O Demosthenes!” he says, “you have lost - your pebble in front of all Greece.” - </p> - <p> - Several grinned at Billy Harden as he set down, and three or four laughed - outright. I guess about half of them there knowed him fur a wind bag, and - some wasn't sorry to see him joshed. But I seen what the doctor was trying - to do. He knowed he was in an awful tight place, and he was feeling that - crowd's pulse, so to speak. He had been talking to crowds fur twenty - years, and he knowed the kind of sudden turns they will take, and how to - take advantage of 'em. He was planning and figgering in his mind all the - time jest what side to ketch 'em on, and how to split up the one, solid - crowd-mind into different minds. But the little bit of a laugh he turned - against Billy Harden was only on the surface, like a straw floating on a - whirlpool. These men was here fur business. - </p> - <p> - Buck Hightower jumps up and says: - </p> - <p> - “Will, I'm getting tired of this court foolishness. The question is, Does - this man come into this county and do what he has done and get out again? - We know all about him. He sneaked in here and gave out he was here to turn - the niggers white—that he was some kind of a new-fangled Jesus sent - especially to niggers, which is blasphemy in itself—and he's got 'em - stirred up. They're boilin' and festerin' with notions of equality till - we're lucky if we don't have to lynch a dozen of 'em, like they did in - Atlanta last summer, to get 'em back into their places again. Do we save - ourselves more trouble by stringing him up as a warning to the negroes? Or - do we invite trouble by turning him loose? Which? All it needs is a vote.” - </p> - <p> - And he set down agin. You could see he had made a hit with the boys. They - was a kind of a growl rolled around the room. The feelings in that place - was getting stronger and stronger. I was scared, but trying not to show - it. My fingers kept feeling around in my pocket fur something that wasn't - there. But my brain couldn't remember what my fingers was feeling fur. - Then it come on me sudden it was a buckeye I picked up in the woods in - Indiany one day, and I had lost it. I ain't superstitious about buckeyes - or horse-shoes, but remembering I had lost it somehow made me feel worse. - But Doctor Kirby had a good holt on himself; his face was a bit redder'n - usual, and his eyes was sparkling, and he was both eager and watchful. - When Buck Hightower sets down the chairman clears his throat like he is - going to speak. But— - </p> - <p> - “Just a moment,” says Doctor Kirby, getting on his feet, and taking a step - toward the chairman. And the way he stopped and stood made everybody look - at him. Then he went on: - </p> - <p> - “Once more,” he says, “I call the attention of every man present to the - fact that what the last speaker proposes is—” - </p> - <p> - And then he let 'em have that word agin, full in their faces, to think - about— - </p> - <p> - “<i>Murder!</i> Merely murder.” - </p> - <p> - He was bound they shouldn't get away from that word and what it stood fur. - And every man there <i>did</i> think, too, fur they was another little - pause. And not one of 'em looked at another one fur a minute. Doctor Kirby - leaned forward from the platform, running his eyes over the crowd, and - jest natcherally shoved that word into the room so hard with his mind that - every mind there had to take it in. - </p> - <p> - But as he held 'em to it they come a bang from one of the windows. It - broke the charm. Fur everybody jumped. I jumped myself. When the end of - the world comes and the earth busts in the middle, it won't sound no - louder than that bang did. It was a wooden shutter. The wind was rising - outside, and it flew open and whacked agin' the building. - </p> - <p> - Then a big, heavy-set man that hadn't spoke before riz up from one of the - hind seats, like he had heard a dare to fight, and walked slowly down - toward the front. He had a red face, which was considerable pock-marked, - and very deep-set eyes, and a deep voice. - </p> - <p> - “Since when,” he says, taking up his stand a dozen feet or so in front of - the doctor, “since when has any civilization refused to commit murder when - murder was necessary for its protection?” - </p> - <p> - One of the top glasses of that window was out, and with the shutter open - they come a breeze through that fluttered some strips of dirty-coloured - papers, fly-specked and dusty and spider-webbed, that hung on strings - acrost the room, jest below the ceiling. I guess they had been left over - from some Christmas doings. - </p> - <p> - “My friend,” said the pock-marked man to the doctor—and the funny - thing about it was he didn't talk unfriendly when he said it—“the - word you insist on is just a <i>word</i>, like any other word.” - </p> - <p> - They was a spider rousted out of his web by that disturbance among the - strings and papers. He started down from above on jest one string of web, - seemingly spinning part of it out of himself as he come, the way they do. - I couldn't keep my eyes off'n him. - </p> - <p> - “Murder,” says the doctor, “is a thing.” - </p> - <p> - “It is a <i>word</i>,” says the other man, “<i>For</i> a thing. For a - thing which sometimes seems necessary. Lynching, war, execution, murder—they - are all words for different ways of wiping out human life. Killing - sometimes seems wrong, and sometimes right. But right or wrong, and with - one word or another tacked to it, it is <i>done</i> when a community wants - to get rid of something dangerous to it.” - </p> - <p> - That there spider was a squat, ugly-looking devil, hunched up on his - string amongst all his crooked legs. The wind would come in little puffs, - and swing him a little way toward the doctor's head, and then toward the - pock-marked man's head, back and forth and back and forth, between them - two as they spoke. It looked to me like he was listening to what they said - and waiting fur something. - </p> - <p> - “Murder,” says the doctor, “is murder—illegal killing—and you - can't make anything else out of it, or talk anything else into it.” - </p> - <p> - It come to me all to oncet that that ugly spider was swinging back and - forth like the pendulum on a clock, and marking time. I wondered how much - time they was left in the world. - </p> - <p> - “It would be none the less a murder,” said the pock-marked man, “if you - were to be hanged after a trial in some county court. Society had been - obliged to deny the privilege of committing murder to the individual and - reserve it for the community. If our communal sense says you should die, - the thing is neither better nor worse than if a sheriff hanged you.” - </p> - <p> - “I am not to be hanged by a sheriff,” says the doctor, very cool and - steady, “because I have committed no crime. I am not to be killed by you - because you dare not, in spite of all you say, outrage the law to that - extent.” - </p> - <p> - And they looked each other in the eyes so long and hard that every one - else in the schoolhouse held their breath. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Dare</i> not?” says the pock-marked man. And he reached forward slow - and took that spider in his hand, and crushed it there, and wiped his hand - along his pants leg. “Dare not? <i>Yes, but we dare</i>. The only question - for us men here is whether we dare to let you go free.” - </p> - <p> - “Your defence of lynching,” says Doctor Kirby, “shows that you, at least, - are a man who can think. Tell me what I am accused of?” - </p> - <p> - And then the trial begun in earnest. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he doctor acted as - his own lawyer, and the pock-marked man, whose name was Grimes, as the - lawyer agin us. You could see that crowd had made up its mind before-hand, - and was only giving us what they called a trial to satisfy their own - conscience. But the fight was betwixt Grimes and Doctor Kirby the hull way - through. - </p> - <p> - One witness was a feller that had been in the hotel at Cottonville the - night we struck that place. We had drunk some of his licker. - </p> - <p> - “This man admitted himself that he was here to turn the niggers white,” - said the witness. - </p> - <p> - Doctor Kirby had told 'em what kind of medicine he was selling. We both - remembered it. We both had to admit it. - </p> - <p> - The next witness was the feller that run the tavern at Bairdstown. He had - with him, fur proof, a bottle of the stuff we had brought with us. He told - how we had went away and left it there that very morning. - </p> - <p> - Another witness told of seeing the doctor talking in the road to that - there nigger bishop. Which any one could of seen it easy enough, fur they - wasn't nothing secret about it. We had met him by accident. But you could - see it made agin us. - </p> - <p> - Another witness says he lives not fur from that Big Bethel church. He says - he has noticed the niggers was worked up about something fur several days. - They are keeping the cause of it secret. He went over to Big Bethel church - the night before, he said, and he listened outside one of the windows to - find out what kind of doctrine that crazy bishop was preaching to them. - They was all so worked up, and the power was with 'em so strong, and they - was so excited they wouldn't of hearn an army marching by. He had hearn - the bishop deliver a message to his flock from the Messiah. He had seen - him go wild, afterward, and preach an equality sermon. That was the lying - message the old bishop had took to 'em, and that Sam had told us about. - But how was this feller to know it was a lie? He believed in it, and he - told it in a straight-ahead way that would make any one see he was telling - the truth as he thought it to be. - </p> - <p> - Then they was six other witnesses. All had been in the gang that lynched - the nigger that day. That nigger had confessed his crime before he was - lynched. He had told how the niggers had been expecting of a Messiah fur - several days, and how the doctor was him. He had died a-preaching and - a-prophesying and thinking to the last minute maybe he was going to get - took up in a chariot of fire. - </p> - <p> - Things kept looking worse and worse fur us. They had the story as the - niggers thought it to be. They thought the doctor had deliberately - represented himself as such, instead of which the doctor had refused to be - represented as that there Messiah. More than that, he had never sold a - bottle of that medicine. He had flung the idea of selling it way behind - him jest as soon as he seen what the situation really was in the black - counties. He had even despised himself fur going into it. But the looks of - things was all the other way. - </p> - <p> - Then the doctor give his own testimony. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen,” he says, “it is true that I came down here to try out that - stuff in the bottle there, and see if a market could be worked up for it. - It is also true that, after I came here and discovered what conditions - were, I decided not to sell the stuff. I didn't sell any. About this - Messiah business I know very little more than you do. The situation was - created, and I blundered into it. I sent the negroes word that I was not - the person they expected. The bishop lied to them. That is my whole - story.” - </p> - <p> - But they didn't believe him. Fur it was jest what he would of said if he - had been guilty, as they thought him. And then Grimes gets up and says: - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen, I demand for this prisoner the penalty of death. - </p> - <p> - “He has lent himself to a situation calculated to disturb in this county - the peaceful domination of the black race by the white. - </p> - <p> - “He is a Northern man. But that is not against him. If this were a case - where leniency were possible, it should count for him, as indicating an - ignorance of the gravity of conditions which confront us here, every day - and all the time. If he were my own brother, I would still demand his - death. - </p> - <p> - “Lest he should think my attitude dictated by any lingering sectional - prejudice, I may tell him what you all know—you people among whom I - have lived for thirty years—that I am a Northern man myself. - </p> - <p> - “The negro who was lynched to-day might never have committed the crime he - did had not the wild, disturbing dream of equality been stirring in his - brain. Every speech, every look, every action which encourages that idea - is a crime. In this county, where the blacks outnumber us, we must either - rule as masters or be submerged. - </p> - <p> - “This man is still believed by the negroes to possess some miraculous - power. He is therefore doubly dangerous. As a sharp warning to them he - must die. His death will do more toward ending the trouble he has prepared - than the death of a dozen negroes. - </p> - <p> - “And as God is my witness, I speak and act not through passion, but from - the dictates of conscience.” - </p> - <p> - He meant it, Grimes did. And when he set down they was a hush. And then - Will, the chairman, begun to call the roll. - </p> - <p> - I never been much of a person to have bad dreams or nightmares or things - like that. But ever since that night in that schoolhouse, if I do have a - nightmare, it takes the shape of that roll being called. Every word was - like a spade grating and gritting in damp gravel when a grave is dug. It - sounded so to me. - </p> - <p> - “Samuel Palmour, how do you vote?” that chairman would say. - </p> - <p> - Samuel Palmour, or whoever it was, would hist himself to his feet, and he - would say something like this: - </p> - <p> - “Death.” - </p> - <p> - He wouldn't say it joyous. He wouldn't say it mad. He would be pale when - he said it, mebby—and mebby trembling. But he would say it like it - was a duty he had to do, that couldn't be got out of. That there trial had - lasted so long they wasn't hot blood left in nobody jest then—only - cold blood, and determination and duty and principle. - </p> - <p> - “Buck Hightower,” says the chairman, “how do you vote?” - </p> - <p> - “Death,” says Buck; “death for the man. But say, can't we jest <i>lick</i> - the kid and turn him loose?” - </p> - <p> - And so it went, up one side the room and down the other. Grimes had showed - 'em all their duty. Not but what they had intended to do it before Grimes - spoke. But he had put it in such a way they seen it was something with - even <i>more</i> principle to it than they had thought it was before. - </p> - <p> - “Billy Harden,” says the chairman, “how do you vote?” Billy was the last - of the bunch. And most had voted fur death. Billy, he opened his mouth and - he squared himself away to orate some. But jest as he done so, the door - opened and Old Daddy Withers stepped in. He had been gone so long I had - plumb forgot him. Right behind him was a tall, spare feller, with black - eyes and straight iron-gray hair. - </p> - <p> - “I vote,” says Billy Harden, beginning of his speech, “I vote for death. - The reason upon which I base—” - </p> - <p> - But Doctor Kirby riz up and interrupted him. - </p> - <p> - “You are going to kill me,” he said. He was pale but he was quiet, and he - spoke as calm and steady as he ever done in his life. “You are going to - kill me like the crowd of sneaking cowards that you are. And you <i>are</i> - such cowards that you've talked two hours about it, instead of doing it. - And I'll tell you why you've talked so much: because no <i>one</i> of you - alone would dare to do it, and every man of you in the end wants to go - away thinking that the other fellow had the biggest share in it. And no <i>one</i> - of you will fire the gun or pull the rope—you'll do it <i>all - together</i>, in a crowd, because each one will want to tell himself he - only touched the rope, or that <i>his gun</i> missed. - </p> - <p> - “I know you, by God!” he shouted, flushing up into a passion—and it - brought blood into their faces, too—“I know you right down to your - roots, better than you know yourselves.” - </p> - <p> - He was losing hold of himself, and roaring like a bull and flinging out - taunts that made 'em squirm. If he wanted the thing over quick, he was - taking jest the way to warm 'em up to it. But I don't think he was - figgering on anything then, or had any plan up his sleeve. He had made up - his mind he was going to die, and he was so mad because he couldn't get in - one good lick first that he was nigh crazy. I looked to see him lose all - sense in a minute, and rush amongst them guns and end it in a whirl. - </p> - <p> - But jest as I figgered he was on his tiptoes fur that, and was getting up - my own sand, he throwed a look my way. And something sobered him. He stood - there digging his finger nails into the palms of his hands fur a minute, - to get himself back. And when he spoke he was sort of husky. - </p> - <p> - “That boy there,” he says. And then he stops and kind of chokes up. And in - a minute he was begging fur me. He tells 'em I wasn't mixed up in nothing. - He wouldn't of done it fur himself, but he begged fur me. Nobody had paid - much attention to me from the first, except Buck Hightower had put in a - good word fur me. But somehow the doctor had got the crowd listening to - him agin, and they all looked at me. It got next to me. I seen by the way - they was looking, and I felt it in the air, that they was going to let me - off. - </p> - <p> - But Doctor Kirby, he had always been my friend. It made me sore fur to see - him thinking I wasn't with him. So I says: - </p> - <p> - “You better can that line of talk. They don't get you without they get me, - too. You orter know I ain't a quitter. You give me a pain.” - </p> - <p> - And the doctor and me stood and looked at each other fur a minute. He - grinned at me, and all of a sudden we was neither one of us much giving a - whoop, fur it had come to us both at oncet what awful good friends we was - with each other. - </p> - <p> - But jest then they come a slow, easy-going sort of a voice from the back - part of the room. That feller that had come in along with Old Daddy - Withers come sauntering down the middle aisle, fumbling in his coat - pocket, and speaking as he come. - </p> - <p> - “I've been hearing a great deal of talk about killing people in the last - few minutes,” he says. - </p> - <p> - Everybody rubbered at him. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here was something - sort of careless in his voice, like he had jest dropped in to see a show, - and it had come to him sudden that he would enjoy himself fur a minute or - two taking part in it. But he wasn't going to get <i>too</i> worked up - about it, either, fur the show might end by making him tired, after all. - </p> - <p> - As he come down the aisle fumbling in his coat, he stopped and begun to - slap all his pockets. Then his face cleared, and he dived into a vest - pocket. Everybody looked like they thought he was going to pull something - important out of it. But he didn't. All he pulled out was jest one of - these here little ordinary red books of cigarette papers. Then he dived - fur some loose tobacco, and begun to roll one. I noticed his fingers was - long and white and slim and quick. But not excited fingers; only the kind - that seems to say as much as talking says. - </p> - <p> - He licked his cigarette, and then he sauntered ahead, looking up. As he - looked up the light fell full on his face fur the first time. He had high - cheek bones and iron-gray hair which he wore rather long, and very black - eyes. As he lifted his head and looked close at Doctor Kirby, a change - went over both their faces. Doctor Kirby's mouth opened like he was going - to speak. So did the other feller's. One side of his mouth twitched into - something that was too surprised to be a grin, and one of his black - eyebrows lifted itself up at the same time. But neither him nor Doctor - Kirby spoke. - </p> - <p> - He stuck his cigarette into his mouth and turned sideways from Doctor - Kirby, like he hadn't noticed him pertic'ler. And he turns to the - chairman. - </p> - <p> - “Will,” he says. And everybody listens. You could see they all knowed him, - and that they all respected him too, by the way they was waiting to hear - what he would say to Will. But they was all impatient and eager, too, and - they wouldn't wait very long, although now they was hushing each other and - leaning forward. - </p> - <p> - “Will,” he says, very polite and quiet, “can I trouble you for a match?” - </p> - <p> - And everybody let go their breath. Some with a snort, like they knowed - they was being trifled with, and it made 'em sore. His eyebrows goes up - agin, like it was awful impolite in folks to snort that-away, and he is - surprised to hear it. And Will, he digs fur a match and finds her and - passes her over. He lights his cigarette, and he draws a good inhale, and - he blows the smoke out like it done him a heap of good. He sees something - so interesting in that little cloud of smoke that everybody else looks at - it, too. - </p> - <p> - “Do I understand,” he says, “that some one is going to lynch some one, or - something of that sort?” - </p> - <p> - “That's about the size of it, colonel,” says Will. - </p> - <p> - “Um!” he says, “What for?” - </p> - <p> - Then everybody starts to talk all at once, half of them jumping to their - feet, and making a perfect hullabaloo of explanations you couldn't get no - sense out of. In the midst of which the colonel takes a chair and sets - down and crosses one leg over the other, swinging the loose foot and - smiling very patient. Which Will remembers he is chairman of that meeting - and pounds fur order. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Will,” says the colonel, like getting order was a personal - favour to him. Then Billy Harden gets the floor, and squares away fur a - longwinded speech telling why. But Buck Hightower jumps up impatient and - says: - </p> - <p> - “We've been through all that, Billy. That man there has been tried and - found guilty, colonel, and there's only one thing to do—string him - up.” - </p> - <p> - “Buck, <i>I</i> wouldn't,” says the colonel, very mild. - </p> - <p> - But that there man Grimes gets up very sober and steady and says: - </p> - <p> - “Colonel, you don't understand.” And he tells him the hull thing as he - believed it to be—why they has voted the doctor must die, the room - warming up agin as he talks, and the colonel listening very interested. - But you could see by the looks of him that colonel wouldn't never be - interested so much in anything but himself, and his own way of doing - things. In a way he was like a feller that enjoys having one part of - himself stand aside and watch the play-actor game another part of himself - is acting out. - </p> - <p> - “Grimes,” he says, when the pock-marked man finishes, “I wouldn't. I - really wouldn't.” - </p> - <p> - “Colonel,” says Grimes, showing his knowledge that they are all standing - solid behind him, “<i>we will!</i>” - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” says the colonel, his eyebrows going up, and his face lighting up - like he is really beginning to enjoy himself and is glad he come, - “indeed!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says Grimes, “<i>we will!</i>” - </p> - <p> - “But not,” says the colonel, “before we have talked the thing over a bit, - I hope?” - </p> - <p> - “There's been too much talk here now,” yells Buck Hightower, “talk, talk, - till, by God, I'm sick of it! Where's that <i>rope</i>?” - </p> - <p> - “But, listen to him—listen to the colonel!” some one else sings out. - And then they was another hullabaloo, some yelling “no!” And the colonel, - very patient, rolls himself another smoke and lights it from the butt of - the first one. But finally they quiets down enough so Will can put it to a - vote. Which vote goes fur the colonel to speak. - </p> - <p> - “Boys,” he begins very quiet, “I wouldn't lynch this man. In the first - place it will look bad in the newspapers, and—” - </p> - <p> - “The newspapers be d—-d!” says some one. - </p> - <p> - “And in the second place,” goes on the colonel, “it would be against the - law, and—” - </p> - <p> - “The law be d——d!” says Buck Hightower. - </p> - <p> - “There's a higher law!” says Grimes. - </p> - <p> - “Against the law,” says the colonel, rising up and throwing away his - cigarette, and getting interested. - </p> - <p> - “I know how you feel about all this negro business. And I feel the same - way. We all know that we must be the negros' masters. Grimes there found - that out when he came South, and the idea pleased him so he hasn't been - able to talk about anything else since. Grimes has turned into what the - Northern newspapers think a typical Southerner is. - </p> - <p> - “Boys, this thing of lynching gets to be a habit. There's been a negro - lynched to-day. He's the third in this county in five years. They all - needed killing. If the thing stopped there I wouldn't care so much. But - the habit of illegal killing grows when it gets started. - </p> - <p> - “It's grown on you. You're fixing to lynch your first white man now. If - you do, you'll lynch another easier. You'll lynch one for murder and the - next for stealing hogs and the next because he's unpopular and the next - because he happens to dun you for a debt. And in five years life will be - as cheap in Watson County as it is in a New York slum where they feed - immigrants to the factories. You'll all be toting guns and grudges and - trying to lynch each other. - </p> - <p> - “The place to stop the thing is where it starts. You can't have it both - ways—you've got to stand pat on the law, or else see the law spit on - right and left, in the end, and <i>nobody</i> safe. It's either law or—” - </p> - <p> - “But,” says Grimes, “there's a higher law than that on the statute books. - There's—” - </p> - <p> - “There's a lot of flub-dub,” says the colonel, “about higher laws and - unwritten laws. But we've got high enough law written if we live up to it. - There's—” - </p> - <p> - “Colonel Tom Buckner,” says Buck Hightower, “what kind of law was it when - you shot Ed Howard fifteen years ago? What—” - </p> - <p> - “You're out of order,” says the chairman, “Colonel Buckner has the floor. - And I'll remind you, Buck Hightower, that, on the occasion you drag in, - Colonel Buckner didn't do any talking about higher laws or unwritten laws. - He sent word to the sheriff to come and get him if he dared.” - </p> - <p> - “Boys,” says the colonel, “I'm preaching you higher doctrine than I've - lived by, and I've made no claim to be better or more moral than any of - you. I'm not. I'm in the same boat with all of you, and I tell you it's up - to <i>all</i> of us to stop lynchings in this county—to set our - faces against it. I tell you—” - </p> - <p> - “Is that all you've got to say to us, colonel?” - </p> - <p> - The question come out of a group that had drawed nearer together whilst - the colonel was talking. They was tired of listening to talk and - arguments, and showed it. - </p> - <p> - The colonel stopped speaking short when they flung that question at him. - His face changed. He turned serious all over. And he let loose jest one - word: - </p> - <p> - “<i>No</i>!” - </p> - <p> - Not very loud, but with a ring in it that sounded like danger. And he got - 'em waiting agin, and hanging on his words. - </p> - <p> - “No!” he repeats, louder, “not all. I have this to say to you—” - </p> - <p> - And he paused agin, pointing one long white finger at the crowd— - </p> - <p> - “<i>If you lynch this man you must kill me first!</i>” - </p> - <p> - I couldn't get away from thinking, as he stood there making them take that - in, that they was something like a play-actor about him. But he was in - earnest, and he would play it to the end, fur he liked the feelings it - made circulate through his frame. And they saw he was in earnest. - </p> - <p> - “You'll lynch him, will you?” he says, a kind of passion getting into his - voice fur the first time, and his eyes glittering. “You think you will? - Well, you <i>won't</i>! - </p> - <p> - “You won't because <i>I</i> say <i>not</i>. Do you hear? I came here - to-night to save him. - </p> - <p> - “You might string <i>him</i> up and not be called to account for it. But - how about <i>me</i>?” - </p> - <p> - He took a step forward, and, looking from face to face with a dare in his - eyes, he went on: - </p> - <p> - “Is there a man among you fool enough to think you could kill Tom Buckner - and not pay for it?” - </p> - <p> - He let 'em all think of that for jest another minute before he spoke agin. - His face was as white as a piece of paper, and his nostrils was working, - but everything else about him was quiet. He looked the master of them all - as he stood there, Colonel Tom Buckner did—straight and splendid and - keen. And they felt the danger in him, and they felt jest how fur he would - go, now he was started. - </p> - <p> - “You didn't want to listen to me a bit ago,” he said. “Now you must. - Listen and choose. You can't kill that man unless you kill me too. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Try it, if you think you can!</i>” - </p> - <p> - He reached over and took from the teacher's desk the sheet of paper Will - had used to check off the name of each man and how he voted. He held it up - in front of him and every man looked at it. - </p> - <p> - “You know me,” he says. “You know I do not break my word. And I promise - you that unless you do kill me here tonight—yes, as God is my - witness, I <i>threaten</i> you—I will spend every dollar I own and - every atom of influence I possess to bring each one of you to justice for - that man's murder.” - </p> - <p> - They knowed, that crowd did, that killing a man like Colonel Buckner—a - leader and a big man in that part of the state—was a different - proposition from killing a stranger like Doctor Kirby. The sense of what - it would mean to kill Colonel Buckner was sinking into 'em, and showing on - their faces. And no one could look at him standing there, with his - determination blazing out of him, and not understand that unless they did - kill him as well as Doctor Kirby he'd do jest what he said. - </p> - <p> - “I told you,” he said, not raising his voice, but dropping it, and making - it somehow come creeping nearer to every one by doing that, “I told you - the first white man you lynched would lead to other lynchings. Let me show - you what you're up against to-night. - </p> - <p> - “Kill the man and the boy here, and you must kill me. Kill me, and you - must kill Old Man Withers, too.” - </p> - <p> - Every one turned toward the door as he mentioned Old Man Withers. He had - never been very far into the room. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he's gone,” said Colonel Tom, as they turned toward the door, and - then looked at each other. “Gone home. Gone home with the name of every - man present. Don't you see you'd have to kill Old Man Withers too, if you - killed me? And then, <i>his wife</i>! And then—how many more? - </p> - <p> - “Do you see it widen—that pool of blood? Do you see it spread and - spread?” - </p> - <p> - He looked down at the floor, like he really seen it there. He had 'em - going now. They showed it. - </p> - <p> - “If you shed one drop,” he went on, “you must shed more. Can't you see it—widening - and deepening, widening and deepening, till you're wading knee deep in it—till - it climbs to your waists—till it climbs to your throats and chokes - you?” - </p> - <p> - It was a horrible idea, the way he played that there pool of blood and he - shuddered like he felt it climbing up himself. And they felt it. A few men - can't kill a hull, dern county and get away with it. The way he put it - that's what they was up against. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” says Colonel Tom, “what man among you wants to start it?” - </p> - <p> - Nobody moved. He waited a minute. Still nobody moved. They all looked at - him. It was awful plain jest where they would have to begin. It was awful - plain jest what it would all end up in. And I guess when they looked at - him standing there, so fine and straight and splendid, it jest seemed - plumb unpossible to make a move. There was a spirit in him that couldn't - be killed. Doctor Kirby said afterward that was what come of being real - “quality,” which was what Colonel Tom was—it was that in him that - licked 'em. It was the best part of their own selves, and the best part of - their own country, speaking out of him to them, that done it. Mebby so. - Anyhow, after a minute more of that strain, a feller by the door picks up - his gun out of the corner with a scrape, and hists it to his shoulder and - walks out. And then Colonel Tom says to Will, with his eyebrow going up, - and that one-sided grin coming onto his face agin: - </p> - <p> - “Will, perhaps a motion to adjourn would be in order?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>o many different - kinds of feeling had been chasing around inside of me that I had numb - spots in my emotional ornaments and intellectual organs. The room cleared - out of everybody but Doctor Kirby and Colonel Tom and me. But the sound of - the crowd going into the road, and their footsteps dying away, and then - after that their voices quitting, all made but very little sense to me. I - could scarcely realize that the danger was over. - </p> - <p> - I hadn't been paying much attention to Doctor Kirby while the colonel was - making that grandstand play of his'n, and getting away with it. Doctor - Kirby was setting in his chair with his head sort of sunk on his chest. I - guess he was having a hard time himself to realize that all the danger was - past. But mebby it wasn't that—he looked like he might really of - forgot where he was fur a minute, and might be thinking of something that - had happened a long time ago. - </p> - <p> - The colonel was leaning up agin the teacher's desk, smoking and looking at - Doctor Kirby. Doctor Kirby turns around toward the colonel. - </p> - <p> - “You have saved my life,” he says, getting up out of his chair, like he - had a notion to step over and thank him fur it, but was somehow not quite - sure how that would be took. - </p> - <p> - The colonel looks at him silent fur a second, and then he says, without - smiling: - </p> - <p> - “Do you flatter yourself it was because I think it worth anything?” - </p> - <p> - The doctor don't answer, and then the colonel says: - </p> - <p> - “Has it occurred to you that I may have saved it because I want it?” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Want</i> it?” - </p> - <p> - “Do you know of any one who has a better right to <i>take</i> it than I - have? Perhaps I saved it because it <i>belongs</i> to me—do you - suppose I want any one else to kill what I have the best right to kill?” - </p> - <p> - “Tom,” says Doctor Kirby, really puzzled, to judge from his actions, “I - don't understand what makes you say you have the right to take my life.” - </p> - <p> - “Dave, where is my sister buried?” asts Colonel Tom. - </p> - <p> - “Buried?” says Doctor Kirby. “My God, Tom, is she <i>dead</i>?” - </p> - <p> - “I ask you,” says Colonel Tom. - </p> - <p> - “And I ask you,” says Doctor Kirby. - </p> - <p> - And they looked at each other, both wonderized, and trying to understand. - And it busted on me all at oncet who them two men really was. - </p> - <p> - I orter knowed it sooner. When the colonel was first called Colonel Tom - Buckner it struck me I knowed the name, and knowed something about it. But - things which was my own consarns was attracting my attention so hard I - couldn't remember what it was I orter know about that name. Then I seen - him and Doctor Kirby knowed each other when they got that first square - look. That orter of put me on the track, that and a lot of other things - that had happened before. But I didn't piece things together like I orter - done. - </p> - <p> - It wasn't until Colonel Tom Buckner called him “Dave” and ast him about - his sister that I seen who Doctor Kirby must really be. - </p> - <p> - <i>He was that there david armstrong!</i> - </p> - <p> - And the brother of the girl he had run off with had jest saved his life. - By the way he was talking, he had saved it simply because he thought he - had the first call on what to do with it. - </p> - <p> - “Where is she?” asts Colonel Tom. - </p> - <p> - “I ask you,” says Doctor Kirby—or David Armstrong—agin. - </p> - <p> - Well, I thinks to myself, here is where Daniel puts one acrost the plate. - And I breaks in: - </p> - <p> - “You both got another guess coming,” I says. “She ain't buried anywheres. - She ain't even dead. She's living in a little town in Indiany called - Athens—or she was about eighteen months ago.” - </p> - <p> - They both looks at me like they thinks I am crazy. - </p> - <p> - “What do you know about it?” says Doctor Kirby. - </p> - <p> - “Are you David Armstrong?” says I. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says he. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” I says, “you spent four or five days within a stone's throw of her - a year ago last summer, and she knowed it was you and hid herself away - from you.” - </p> - <p> - Then I tells them about how I first happened to hear of David Armstrong, - and all I had hearn from Martha. And how I had stayed at the Davises in - Tennessee and got some more of the same story from George, the old nigger - there. - </p> - <p> - “But, Danny,” says the doctor, “why didn't you tell me all this?” - </p> - <p> - I was jest going to say that not knowing he was that there David Armstrong - I didn't think it any of his business, when Colonel Tom, he says to Doctor - Kirby—I mean to David Armstrong: - </p> - <p> - “Why should you be concerned as to her whereabouts? You ruined her life - and then deserted her.” - </p> - <p> - Doctor Kirby—I mean David Armstrong—stands there with the - blood going up his face into his forehead slow and red. - </p> - <p> - “Tom,” he says, “you and I seem to be working at cross purposes. Maybe it - would help some if you would tell me just how badly you think I treated - Lucy.” - </p> - <p> - “You ruined her life, and then deserted her,” says Colonel Tom agin, - looking at him hard. - </p> - <p> - “I <i>didn't</i> desert her,” said Doctor Kirby. “She got disgusted and - left <i>me</i>. Left me without a chance to explain myself. As far as - ruining her life is concerned, I suppose that when I married her—” - </p> - <p> - “Married her!” cries out the colonel. And David Armstrong stares at him - with his mouth open. - </p> - <p> - “My God! Tom,” he says, “did you think—?” - </p> - <p> - And they both come to another standstill. And then they talked some more - and only got more mixed up than ever. Fur the doctor thinks she has left - him, and Colonel Tom thinks he has left her. - </p> - <p> - “Tom,” says the doctor, “suppose you let me tell my story, and you'll see - why Lucy left me.” - </p> - <p> - Him and Colonel Tom had been chums together when they went through - Princeton, it seems—I picked that up from the talk and some of his - story I learned afterward. He had come from Ohio in the beginning, and his - dad had had considerable money. Which he had enjoyed spending of it, and - when he was a young feller never liked to work at nothing else. It suited - him. Colonel Tom, he was considerable like him in that way. So they was - good pals when they was to that school together. They both quit about the - same time. A couple of years after that, when they was both about - twenty-five or six years old, they run acrost each other accidental in New - York one autumn. - </p> - <p> - The doctor, he was there figgering on going to work at something or other, - but they was so many things to do he was finding it hard to make a choice. - His father was dead by that time, and looking fur a job in New York, the - way he had been doing it, was awful expensive, and he was running short of - money. His father had let him spend so much whilst he was alive he was - very disappointed to find out he couldn't keep on forever looking fur work - that-a-way. - </p> - <p> - So Colonel Tom says why not come down home into Tennessee with him fur a - while, and they will both try and figger out what he orter go to work at. - It was the fall of the year, and they was purty good hunting around there - where Colonel Tom lived, and Dave hadn't never been South any, and so he - goes. He figgers he better take a good, long vacation, anyhow. Fur if he - goes to work that winter or the next spring, and ties up with some job - that keeps him in an office, there may be months and months pass by before - he has another chance at a vacation. That is the worst part of a job—I - found that out myself—you never can tell when you are going to get - shut of it, once you are fool enough to start in. - </p> - <p> - In Tennessee he had met Miss Lucy. Which her wedding to Prent McMakin was - billed fur to come off about the first of November, jest a month away. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know whether I ever told you or not,” says the doctor, “but I was - engaged to be married myself, Tom, when I went down to your place. That - was what started all the trouble. - </p> - <p> - “You know engagements are like vaccination—sometimes they take, and - sometimes they don't. Of course, I had thought at one time I was in love - with this girl I was engaged to. When I found out I wasn't, I should have - told her so right away. But I didn't. I thought that she would get tired - of me after a while and turn me loose. I gave her plenty of chances to - turn me loose. I wanted her to break the engagement instead of me. But she - wouldn't take the hints. She hung on like an Ohio Grand Army veteran to a - country post-office. About half the time I didn't read her letters, and - about nineteen twentieths of the time I didn't answer them. They say hell - hath no fury like a woman scorned. But it isn't so—it makes them all - the fonder of you. I got into the habit of thinking that while Emma might - be engaged to me, I wasn't engaged to Emma. Not but what Emma was a nice - girl, you know, but— - </p> - <p> - “Well, I met Lucy. We fell in love with each other. It just happened. I - kept intending to write to the other girl and tell her plainly that - everything was off. But I kept postponing it. It seemed like a deuce of a - hard job to tackle. - </p> - <p> - “But, finally, I did write her. That was the very day Lucy promised to - throw Prent McMakin over and marry me. You know how determined all your - people were that Lucy should marry McMakin, Tom. They had brought her up - with the idea that she was going to, and, of course, she was bored with - him for that reason. - </p> - <p> - “We decided the best plan would be to slip away quietly and get married. - We knew it would raise a row. But there was bound to be a row anyhow when - they found she intended to marry me instead of McMakin. So we figured we - might just as well be away from there. - </p> - <p> - “We left your place early on the morning of October 31, 1888—do you - remember the date, Tom? We took the train for Clarksville, Tennessee, and - got there about two o'clock that afternoon. I suppose you have been in - that interesting centre of the tobacco industry. If you have you may - remember that the courthouse of Montgomery County is right across the - street from the best hotel. I got a license and a preacher without any - trouble, and we were married in the hotel parlour that afternoon. One of - the hotel clerks and the county clerk himself were the witnesses. - </p> - <p> - “We went to Cincinnati and from there to Chicago. There we got rooms out - on the South Side—Hyde Park, they called it. And I got me a job. I - had some money left, but not enough to buy kohinoors and race-horses with. - Beside, I really wanted to get to work—wanted it for the first time - in my life. You remember young Clayton in our class? He and some other - enterprising citizens had a building and loan association. Such things are - no doubt immoral, but I went to work for him. - </p> - <p> - “We had been in Chicago a week when Lucy wrote home what she had done, and - begged forgiveness for being so abrupt about it. At least, I suppose that - is what she wrote. It was—” - </p> - <p> - “I remember exactly what she wrote,” says Colonel Tom. - </p> - <p> - “I never knew exactly,” says the doctor. “The same mail that brought word - from you that your grandfather had had some sort of a stroke, as a - consequence of our elopement, brought also two letters from Emma. They had - been forwarded from New York to Tennessee, and you had forwarded them to - Chicago. - </p> - <p> - “Those letters began the trouble. You see, I hadn't told Emma when I wrote - breaking off the engagement that I was going to get married the next day. - And Emma hadn't received my letter, or else had made up her mind to ignore - it. Anyhow, those letters were regular love-letters. - </p> - <p> - “I hadn't really read one of Emma's letters for months. But somehow I - couldn't help reading these. I had forgotten what a gift for the - expression of sentiment Emma had. She fairly revelled in it, Tom. Those - letters were simply writhing with clinging female adjectives. They <i>squirmed</i> - with affection. - </p> - <p> - “You may remember that Lucy was a rather jealous sort of a person. Right - in the midst of her alarm and grief and self-reproach over her - grandfather, and in the midst of my efforts to comfort her, she spied the - feminine handwriting on those two letters. I had glanced through them - hurriedly, and laid them on the table. - </p> - <p> - “Tom, I was in bad. The dates on them, you know, were so <i>recent</i>. I - didn't want Lucy to read them. But I didn't dare to <i>act</i> as if I - didn't want her to. So I handed them over. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose—to a bride who had only been married a little more than a - week—and who had hurt her grandfather nearly to death in the - marrying, those letters must have sounded rather odd. I tried to explain. - But all my explanations only seemed to make the case worse for me. Lucy - was furiously jealous. We really had a devil of a row before we were - through with it. I tried to tell her that I loved no one but her. She - pointed out that I must have said much the same sort of thing to Emma. She - said she was almost as sorry for Emma as she was for herself. When Lucy - got through with me, Tom, I looked like thirty cents and felt like - twenty-five of that was plugged. - </p> - <p> - “I didn't have sense enough to know that it was most of it grief over her - grandfather, and nerves and hysteria, and the fact that she was only - eighteen years old and lonely, and that being a bride had a certain amount - to do with it. She had told me that I was a beast, and made me feel like - one; and I took the whole thing hard and believed her. I made a fine, - five-act tragedy out of a jealous fit I might have softened into comedy if - I had had the wit. - </p> - <p> - “I wasn't so very old myself, and I hadn't ever been married before. I - should have kept my mouth shut until it was all over, and then when she - began to cry I should have coaxed her up and made her feel like I was the - only solid thing to hang on to in the whole world. - </p> - <p> - “But the bottom had dropped out of the universe for me. She had said she - hated me. I was fool enough to believe her. I went downtown and began to - drink. I come home late that night. The poor girl had been waiting up for - me—waiting for hours, and becoming more and more frightened when I - didn't show up. She was over her jealous fit, I suppose. If I had come - home in good shape, or in anything like it, we would have made up then and - there. But my condition stopped all that. I wasn't so drunk but that I saw - her face change when she let me in. She was disgusted. - </p> - <p> - “In the morning I was sick and feverish. I was more than disgusted with - myself. I was in despair. If she had hated me before—and she had - said she did—what must she do now? It seemed to me that I had sunk - so far beneath her that it would take years to get back. It didn't seem - worth while making any plea for myself. You see, I was young and had - serious streaks all through me. So when she told me that she had written - home again, and was going back—was going to leave me, I didn't see - that it was only a bluff. I didn't see that she was really only waiting to - forgive me, if I gave her a chance. I started downtown to the building and - loan office, wondering when she would leave, and if there was anything I - could do to make her change her mind. I must repeat again that I was a - fool—that I needed only to speak one word, had I but known it. - </p> - <p> - “If I had gone straight to work, everything might have come around all - right even then. But I didn't. I had that what's-the-use feeling. And I - stopped in at the Palmer House bar to get something to sort of pull me - together. - </p> - <p> - “While I was there, who should come up to the bar and order a drink but - Prent McMakin.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes!” says Colonel Tom, as near excited as he ever got. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says Armstrong, “nobody else. We saw each other in the mirror - behind the bar. I don't know whether you ever noticed it or not, Tom, but - McMakin's eyes had a way of looking almost like cross-eyes when he was - startled or excited. They were a good deal too near together at any time. - He gave me such a look when our eyes met in the mirror that, for an - instant, I thought that he intended to do me some mischief—shoot me, - you know, for taking his bride-to-be away from him, or some fool thing - like that. But as we turned toward each other I saw he had no intention of - that sort.” - </p> - <p> - “Hadn't he?” says Colonel Tom, mighty interested. - </p> - <p> - “No,” says the doctor, looking at Colonel Tom very puzzled, “did you think - he had?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I did,” says the colonel, right thoughtful. - </p> - <p> - “On the contrary,” says Armstrong, “we had a drink together. And he - congratulated me. Made me quite a little speech, in fact; one of the - flowery kind, you know, Tom, and said that he bore me no rancour, and all - that.” - </p> - <p> - “The deuce he did!” says Colonel Tom, very low, like he was talking to - himself. “And then what?” - </p> - <p> - “Then,” says the doctor, “then—let me see—it's all a long time - ago, you know, and McMakin's part in the whole thing isn't really - important.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm not so sure it isn't important,” says the colonel, “but go on.” - </p> - <p> - “Then,” says Armstrong, “we had another drink together. In fact, a lot of - them. We got awfully friendly. And like a fool I told him of my quarrel - with Lucy.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Like</i> a fool,” says Colonel Tom, nodding his head. “Go on.” - </p> - <p> - “There isn't much more to tell,” says the doctor, “except that I made a - worse idiot of myself yet, and left McMakin about two o'clock in the - afternoon, as near as I can recollect. Somewhere about ten o'clock that - night I went home. Lucy was gone. I haven't seen her since.” - </p> - <p> - “Dave,” says Colonel Tom, “did McMakin happen to mention to you, that day, - just why he was in Chicago?” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose so,” says the doctor. “I don't know. Maybe not. That was twenty - years ago. Why?” - </p> - <p> - “Because,” says Colonel Tom, very grim and quiet, “because your first - thought as to his intention when he met you in the bar was <i>my</i> idea - also. I thought he went to Chicago to settle with you. You see, I got to - Chicago that same afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - “The same day?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. We were to have come together. But I missed the train, and he got - there a day ahead of me. He was waiting at the hotel for me to join him, - and then we were going to look you up together. He found you first and I - never did find you.” - </p> - <p> - “But I don't exactly understand,” says the doctor. “You say he had the - idea of shooting me.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't understand everything myself,” says Colonel Tom. “But I do - understand that Prent McMakin must have played some sort of a two-faced - game. He never said a word to me about having seen you. - </p> - <p> - “Listen,” he goes on. “When you and Lucy ran away it nearly killed our - grandfather. In fact, it finally did kill him. When we got Lucy's letter - that told you were in Chicago I went up to bring her back home. We didn't - know what we were going to do, McMakin and I, but we were both agreed that - you needed killing. And he swore that he would marry Lucy anyhow, even—” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Marry her!</i>” sings out the doctor, “but we <i>were</i> married.” - </p> - <p> - “Dave,” Colonel Tom says very slow and steady, “you keep <i>saying</i> you - were married. But it's strange—it's right <i>strange</i> about that - marriage.” - </p> - <p> - And he looked at the doctor hard and close, like he would drag the truth - out of him, and the doctor met his look free and open. You would of - thought Colonel Tom was saying with his look: “You <i>must</i> tell me the - truth.” And the doctor with his was answering: “I <i>have</i> told you the - truth.” - </p> - <p> - “But, Tom,” says the doctor, “that letter she wrote you from Chicago must—” - </p> - <p> - “Do you know what Lucy wrote?” interrupts Colonel Tom. “I remember - exactly. It was simply: '<i>Forgive me. I loved him so. I am happy. I know - it is wrong, but I love him so you must forgive me</i>.'” - </p> - <p> - “But couldn't you tell from <i>that</i> we were married?” cries out the - doctor. - </p> - <p> - “She didn't mention it,” says Colonel Tom. - </p> - <p> - “She supposed that her own family had enough faith in her to take it for - granted,” says the doctor, very scornful, his face getting red. - </p> - <p> - “But wait, Dave,” says Colonel Tom, quiet and cool. “Don't bluster with - me. There are still a lot of things to be explained. And that marriage is - one of them. - </p> - <p> - “To go back a bit. You say you got to the house somewhere around ten - o'clock that evening and found Lucy gone. Do you remember the day of the - month?” - </p> - <p> - “It was November 14, 1888.” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly,” says Colonel Tom. “I got to Chicago at six o'clock of that very - day. And I went at once to the address in Lucy's letter. I got there - between seven and eight o'clock. She was gone. My thought was that you - must have got wind of my coming and persuaded her to leave with you in - order to avoid me—although I didn't see how you could know when I - would get there, either, when I thought it over.” - </p> - <p> - “And you have never seen her since,” says Armstrong, pondering. - </p> - <p> - “I <i>have</i> seen her since,” says Colonel Tom, “and that is one thing - that makes me say your story needs further explanation.” - </p> - <p> - “But where—when—did you see her?” asts the doctor, mighty - excited. - </p> - <p> - “I am coming to that. I went back home again. And in July of the next year - I heard from her.” - </p> - <p> - “Heard from her?” - </p> - <p> - “By letter. She was in Galesburg, Illinois, if you know where that is. She - was living there alone. And she was almost destitute. I wrote her to come - home. She would not. But she had to live. I got rid of some of our - property in Tennessee, and took enough cash up there with me to fix her, - in a decent sort of way, for the rest of her life, and put it in the bank. - I was with her there for ten days; then I went back home to get Aunt Lucy - Davis to help me in another effort to persuade her to return. But when I - got back North with Aunt Lucy she had gone.” - </p> - <p> - “Gone?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and when we returned without her to Tennessee there was a letter - telling us not to try to find her. We thought—I thought—that - she might have taken up with you once again.” - </p> - <p> - “But, my God! Tom,” the doctor busts out, “you were with her ten days - there in Galesburg! Didn't she tell you then—couldn't you tell from - the way she acted—that she had married me?” - </p> - <p> - “That's the odd thing, Dave,” says the colonel, very slow and thoughtful. - “That's what is so very strange about it all. I merely assumed by my - attitude that you were not married, and she let me assume it without a - protest.” - </p> - <p> - “But did you ask her?” - </p> - <p> - “Ask her? No. Can't you see that there was no reason why I should ask her? - I was sure. And being sure of it, naturally I didn't talk about it to her. - You can understand that I wouldn't, can't you? In fact, I never mentioned - you to her. She never mentioned you to me.” - </p> - <p> - “You must have mistaken her, Tom.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't think it's possible, Dave,” said the colonel. “You can mistake - words and explanations a good deal easier than you can mistake an - atmosphere. No, Dave, I tell you that there's something odd about it—married - or not, Lucy didn't <i>believe</i> herself married the last time I saw - her.” - </p> - <p> - “But she <i>must</i> have known,” says the doctor, as much to himself as - to the colonel. “She <i>must</i> have known.” Any one could of told by the - way he said it that he wasn't lying. I could see that Colonel Tom believed - in him, too. They was both sicking their intellects onto the job of - figgering out how it was Lucy didn't know. Finally the doctor says very - thoughtful: - </p> - <p> - “Whatever became of Prentiss McMakin, Tom?” - </p> - <p> - “Dead,” says Colonel Tom, “quite a while ago.” - </p> - <p> - “H-m,” says the doctor, still thinking hard. And then looks at Colonel Tom - like they was an idea in his head. Which he don't speak her out. But - Colonel Tom seems to understand. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he says, nodding his head. “I think you are on the right track now. - Yes—I shouldn't wonder.” - </p> - <p> - Well, they puts this and that together, and they agrees that whatever - happened to make things hard to explain must of happened on that day that - Prentiss McMakin met the doctor in the bar-room, and didn't shoot him, as - he had made his brags he would. Must of happened between the time that - afternoon when Prentiss McMakin left the doctor and the time Colonel Tom - went out to see his sister and found she had went. Must of happened - somehow through Prent McMakin. - </p> - <p> - We goes home with Colonel Tom that night. And the next day all three of us - is on our way to Athens, Indiany, where I had seen Miss Lucy at. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ur my part, as the - train kept getting further and further north, my feelings kept getting - more and more mixed. It come to me that I might be steering straight fur a - bunch of trouble. The feeling that sadness and melancholy and seriousness - was laying ahead of me kept me from really enjoying them dollar-apiece - meals on the train. It was Martha that done it. All this past and gone - love story I had been hearing about reminded me of Martha. And I was - steering straight toward her, and no way out of it. How did I know but - what that there girl might be expecting fur to marry me, or something like - that? Not but what I was awful in love with her whilst we was together. - But it hadn't really set in on me very deep. I hadn't forgot about her - right away. But purty soon I had got to forgetting her oftener than I - remembered her. And now it wasn't no use talking—I jest wasn't in - love with Martha no more, and didn't have no ambition to be. I had went - around the country a good bit, and got intrusted in other things, and saw - several other girls I liked purty well. Keeping steady in love with jest - one girl is mighty hard if you are moving around a good bit. - </p> - <p> - But I was considerable worried about Martha. She was an awful romanceful - kind of girl. And even the most sensible kind is said to be fools about - getting their hearts broke and pining away and dying over a feller. I - would hate to think Martha had pined herself sick. - </p> - <p> - I couldn't shut my eyes to the fact we was engaged to each other legal, - all right. And if she wanted to act mean about it and take it to a court - it would likely be binding on me. Then I says to myself is she is mean - enough to do that I'll be derned if I don't go to jail before I marry her, - and stay there. - </p> - <p> - And then my conscience got to working inside of me agin. And a picture of - her getting thin and not eating her vittles regular and waiting and - waiting fur me to show up, and me never doing it, come to me. And I felt - sorry fur poor Martha, and thought mebby I would marry her jest to keep - her from dying. Fur you would feel purty tough if a girl was to get so - stuck on you it killed her. Not that I ever seen that really happen, - either; but first and last there has been considerable talk about it. - </p> - <p> - It wasn't but what I liked Martha well enough. It was the idea of getting - married, and staying married, made me feel so anxious. Being married may - work out all right fur some folks. But I knowed it never would work any - with me. Or not fur long. Because why should I want to be tied down to one - place, or have a steady job? That would be a mean way to live. - </p> - <p> - Of course, with a person that was the doctor's age it would be different. - He had done his running around and would be willing to settle down now, I - guessed. That is, if he could get his differences with this here Buckner - family patched up satisfactory. I wondered whether he would be able to or - not. Him and Colonel Tom were talking constant on the train all the way - up. From the little stretches of their talk I couldn't help hearing, I - guessed each one was telling the other all that had happened to him in the - time that had passed by. Colonel Tom what kind of a life he had lived, and - how he had married and his wife had died and left him a widower without - any kids. And the doctor—it was always hard fur me to get to calling - him anything but Doctor Kirby—how he had happened to start out with - a good chancet in life and turn into jest a travelling fakir. - </p> - <p> - Well, I thinks to myself now that he has got to be that, mebby her and him - won't suit so well now, even if they does get their differences patched - up. Fur all the forgiving in the world ain't going to change things, or - make them no different. But, so long as the doctor appeared to want to - find her so derned bad, I was awful glad I had been the means of getting - him and Miss Lucy together. He had done a lot fur me, first and last, the - doctor had, and I felt like it helped pay him a little. Though if they was - to settle down like married folks I would feel like a good old sport was - spoiled in the doctor, too. - </p> - <p> - We had to change cars at Indianapolis to get to that there little town. We - was due to reach it about two o'clock in the afternoon. And the nearer we - got to the place the nervouser and nervouser all three of us become. And - not owning we was. The last hour before we hit the place, I took a drink - of water every three minutes, I was so nervous. And when we come into the - town I was already standing out onto the platform. I wouldn't of been - surprised to find Martha and Miss Lucy down there to the station. But, of - course, they wasn't. Fur some reason I felt glad they wasn't. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” I says to them two, as we got off the train, “foller me and I will - show you the house.” - </p> - <p> - Everybody rubbers at strangers in a country town, and wonders why they - have come, and what they is selling, and if they are mebby going to start - a new grain elevator, or buy land, or what. The usual ones around the - depot rubbered at us, and I hearn one geezer say to another: - </p> - <p> - “See that big feller there? He was through here a year or two ago selling - patent medicine.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0353.jpg" alt="0353 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0353.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “You don't say so!” says the other one, like it was something important, - like a president or a circus had come, and his eyes a-bugging out. And the - doctor hearn them, too. Fur some reason or other he flushed up and cut a - look out of the corner of his eye at Colonel Tom. - </p> - <p> - We went right through the main street and out toward the edge of town, by - the crick, where Miss Lucy's house was. And, if anything, all of us - feeling nervouser yet. And saying nothing and not looking at each other. - And Colonel Tom rolling cigarettes and fumbling fur matches and lighting - them and slinging them away. Fur how does anybody know how women is going - to take even the most ordinary little things? - </p> - <p> - I knowed the way well enough, and where the house was, but as we went - around the turn in the road I run acrost a surprised feeling. I come onto - the place where our campfire had been them nights we was there. Looey had - drug an old fence post onto the fire one night, and the post had only - burned half up. The butt end of it, all charred and flaked, was still - laying in the grass and weeds there. It hit me with a queer feeling—like - it was only yesterday that fire had been lit there. And yet I knowed it - had been a year and a half ago. - </p> - <p> - Well, it has always been my luck to run into things without the right kind - of a lie fixed up ahead of time. They was three or four purty good stories - I had been trying over in my head to tell Martha when I seen her. Any one - of them stories might of done all right; but I hadn't decided <i>which</i> - one to use. And, of course, I run plumb into Martha. She was standing by - the gate, which was about twenty yards from the veranda. And all four lies - popped into my head at oncet, and got so mixed up with one another there, - I seen right off it was useless to try to tell anything that sounded - straight. Besides, when you are in the fix I was in, what can you tell a - girl anyhow? - </p> - <p> - So I jest says to her: - </p> - <p> - “Hullo!” - </p> - <p> - Martha, she had been fussing around some flower bushes with a pair of - shears and gloves on. She looks up when I says that, and she sizes us all - up standing by the gate, and her eyes pops open, and so does her mouth, - and she is so surprised to see me she drops her shears. - </p> - <p> - And she looks scared, too. - </p> - <p> - “Is Miss Buckner at home?” asts Colonel Tom, lifting his hat very polite. - </p> - <p> - “Miss B-B-Buckner?” Martha stutters, very scared-like, and not taking her - eyes off of me to answer him. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Hampton, Martha,” I says. - </p> - <p> - “Y-y-y-es, s-sh-she is,” says Martha. I wondered what was the matter with - her. - </p> - <p> - It is always my luck to get left all alone with my troubles. The doctor - and the colonel, they walked right past us when she said yes, and up - toward the house, and left her and me standing there. I could of went - along and butted in, mebby. But I says to myself I will have the derned - thing out here and now, and know the worst. And I was so interested in my - trouble and Martha that I didn't even notice if Miss Lucy met 'em at the - door, and if so, how she acted. When I next looked up they was all in the - house. - </p> - <p> - “Martha—” I begins. But she breaks in. - </p> - <p> - “Danny,” she says, looking like she is going to cry, “don't l-l-look at me - l-l-like that. If you knew <i>all</i> you wouldn't blame me. You—” - </p> - <p> - “Wouldn't blame you fur what?” I asts her. - </p> - <p> - “I know it's wrong of me,” she says, begging-like. - </p> - <p> - “Mebby it is and mebby it ain't,” I says. “But what is it?” - </p> - <p> - “But you never wrote to me,” she says. - </p> - <p> - “You never wrote to me,” I says, not wanting her to get the best of me, - whatever it was she might be talking about. - </p> - <p> - “And then <i>he</i> came to town!—” - </p> - <p> - “Who?” I asts her. - </p> - <p> - “Don't you know?” she says. “The man I am going to marry.” - </p> - <p> - When she said that I felt, all of a sudden, like when you are broke and - hungry and run acrost a half dollar you had forgot about in your other - pants. I was so glad I jumped. - </p> - <p> - “Great guns!” I says. - </p> - <p> - I had never really knowed what being glad was before. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Danny, Danny,” she says, putting her hands in front of her face, “and - here you have come to claim me for your bride!” - </p> - <p> - Which showed me why she had looked so scared. That there girl had went and - got engaged to another feller. And had been laying awake nights suffering - fur fear I would turn up agin. And now I had. Looey, he always said never - to trust a woman! - </p> - <p> - “Martha,” I says, “you ain't acted right with me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Danny, Danny,” she says, “I know it! I know it!” - </p> - <p> - “Some fellers in my place,” I says, “would raise a dickens of a row.” - </p> - <p> - “I <i>did</i> love you once,” she says, looking at me from between her - fingers. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says I, acting real melancholy, “you did. And now you've quit it, - they don't seem to me to be nothing left to live fur.” Martha, she was an - awful romanceful girl. I got the notion that mebby she was enjoying her - own remorsefulness a little bit. I fetched a deep sigh and I says: - </p> - <p> - “Some fellers would kill theirselves on the spot!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!—Oh!—Oh!—” says Martha. - </p> - <p> - “But, Martha,” says I, “I ain't that mean. I ain't going to do that.” - </p> - <p> - That dern girl ackshellay give me a disappointed look! If anything, she - was jest a bit <i>too</i> romanceful, Martha was. - </p> - <p> - “No,” says I, cheering up a little, “I am going to do something they ain't - many fellers would do, Martha. I'm going to forgive you. Free and fair and - open. And give you back my half of that ring, and—” - </p> - <p> - Dern it! I had forgot I had lost that half of that there ring! I - remembered so quick it stopped me. - </p> - <p> - “You always kept it, Danny?” she asts me, very soft-spoken, so as not to - give pain to one so faithful and so noble as what I was. “Let me see it, - Danny.” - </p> - <p> - I made like I was feeling through all my pockets fur it. But that couldn't - last forever. I run out of pockets purty soon. And her face begun to show - she was smelling a rat. Finally I says: - </p> - <p> - “These ain't my other clothes—it must be in them.” - </p> - <p> - “Danny,” she says, “I believe you <i>lost</i> it.” - </p> - <p> - “Martha,” I says, taking a chancet, “you know you lost <i>your</i> half!” - </p> - <p> - She owns up she has lost it a long while ago. And when she lost it, she - says, she knowed that was fate and that our love was omened in under an - evil star. And who was she, she says, to struggle agin fate? - </p> - <p> - “Martha,” I says, “I'll be honest with you. Fate got away with my half too - one day when I didn't know they was crooks like her sticking around.” - </p> - <p> - Well, I seen that girl seen through me then. Martha was awful smart - sometimes. And each one was so derned tickled the other one wasn't going - to do any pining away we like to of fell into love all over agin. But not - quite. Fur neither one would ever trust the other one agin. So we felt - more comfortable with each other. You ain't never comfortable with a - person you know is more honest than you be. - </p> - <p> - “But,” says Martha, after a minute, “if you didn't come back to make me - marry you, what does Doctor Kirby want to see Miss Hampton about? And who - was that with him?” - </p> - <p> - I had been nigh to forgetting the main thing we had all come here fur, in - my gladness at getting rid of any danger of marrying Martha. But it come - to me all to oncet I had been missing a lot that must be taking place - inside that house. I had even missed the way they first looked when she - met 'em at the door, and I wouldn't of missed that fur a lot. And I seen - all to oncet what a big piece of news it will be to Martha. - </p> - <p> - “Martha,” I says, “they ain't no Dr. Hartley L. Kirby. The man known as - such is David Armstrong!” - </p> - <p> - I never seen any one so peetrified as Martha was fur a minute. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” says I, “and the other one is Miss Lucy's brother. And they are all - three in there straightening themselves out and finding where everybody - gets off at, and why. One of these here serious times you read about. And - you and me are missing it all, like a couple of gumps. How can we hear?” - </p> - <p> - Martha says she don't know. - </p> - <p> - “You <i>think</i>,” I told her. “We've wasted five good minutes already. - I've <i>got</i> to hear the rest of it. Where would they be?” - </p> - <p> - Martha guesses they will all be in the sitting room, which has got the - best chairs in it. - </p> - <p> - “What is next to it? A back parlour, or a bedroom, or what?” I was - thinking of how I happened to overhear Perfessor Booth and his fambly - that-a-way. - </p> - <p> - Martha says they is nothing like that to be tried. - </p> - <p> - “Martha,” I says, “this is serious. This here story they are thrashing out - in there is the only derned sure-enough romanceful story either you or me - is ever lible to run up against personal in all our lives. It would of - been a good deal nicer if they had ast us in to see the wind-up of it. - Fur, if it hadn't of been fur me, they never would of been reunited and - rejuvenated the way they be. But some people get stingy streaks with their - concerns. You think!” - </p> - <p> - Martha, she says: “Danny, it wouldn't be honourable to listen.” - </p> - <p> - “Martha,” I tells her, “after the way you and me went and jilted each - other, what kind of senses of honour have <i>we</i> got to brag about?” - </p> - <p> - She remembers that the spare bedroom is right over the sitting room. The - house is heated with stoves in the winter time. There is a register right - through the floor of the spare bedroom and the ceiling of the sitting - room. Not the kind of a register that comes from a twisted-around shaft in - a house that uses furnace heat. But jest really a hole in the floor, with - a cast-iron grating, to let the heat from the room below into the one - above. She says she guesses two people that wasn't so very honourable - might sneak into the house the back way, and up the back stairs, and into - the spare bedroom, and lay down on their stummicks on the floor, being - careful to make no noise, and both see and hear through that register. - Which we done it. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> could hear well - enough, but at first I couldn't see any of them. But I gathered that Miss - Lucy was standing up whilst she was talking, and moving around a bit now - and then. I seen one of her sleeves, and then a wisp of her hair. Which - was aggervating, fur I wanted to know what she was like. But her voice was - so soft and quiet that you kind of knowed before you seen her how she - orter look. - </p> - <p> - “Prentiss McMakin came to me that day,” she was saying, “with an appeal—I - hardly know how to tell you.” She broke off. - </p> - <p> - “Go ahead, Lucy,” says Colonel Tom's voice. - </p> - <p> - “He was insulting,” she said. “He had been drinking. He wanted me to—to—he - appealed to me to run off with him. - </p> - <p> - “I was furious—<i>naturally</i>.” Her voice changed as she said it - enough so you could feel how furious Miss Lucy could get. She was like her - brother Tom in some ways. - </p> - <p> - “I ordered him out of the house. His answer to that was an offer to marry - me. You can imagine that I was surprised as well as angry—I was - perplexed. - </p> - <p> - “'But I <i>am</i> married!' I cried. The idea that any of my own people, - or any one whom I had known at home, would think I wasn't married was too - much for me to take in all at once. - </p> - <p> - “'You <i>think</i> you are,' said Prentiss McMakin, with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “In spite of myself my breath stopped. It was as if a chilly hand had - taken hold of my heart. I mean, physically, I felt like that. - </p> - <p> - “'I <i>am</i> married,' I repeated, simply. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose that McMakin had got the story of our wedding from <i>you</i>.” - She stopped a minute. The doctor's voice answered: - </p> - <p> - “I suppose so,” like he was a very tired man. - </p> - <p> - “Anyhow,” she went on, “he knew that we went first to Clarksville. He - said: - </p> - <p> - “'You think you are married, Lucy, but you are not.' - </p> - <p> - “I wish you to understand that Prentiss McMakin did it all very, very - well. That is my excuse. He acted well. There was something about him—I - scarcely know how to put it. It sounds odd, but the truth is that Prentiss - McMakin was always a more convincing sort of a person when he had been - drinking a little than when he was sober. He lacked warmth—he lacked - temperament. I suppose just the right amount put it into him. It put the - devil into him, too, I reckon. - </p> - <p> - “He told me that you and he, Tom, had been to Clarksville, and had made - investigations, and that the wedding was a fraud. And he told it with a - wealth of convincing detail. In the midst of it he broke off to ask to see - my wedding certificate. As he talked, he laughed at it, and tore it up, - saying that the thing was not worth the paper it was on, and he threw the - pieces of paper into the grate. I listened, and I let him do it—not - that the paper itself mattered particularly. But the very fact that I let - him tear it showed me, myself, that I was believing him. - </p> - <p> - “He ended with an impassioned appeal to me to go with him. - </p> - <p> - “I showed him the door. I pretended to the last that I thought he was - lying to me. But I did not think so. I believed him. He had done it all - very cleverly. You can understand how I might—in view of what had - happened?” - </p> - <p> - I wanted to see Miss Lucy—how she looked when she said different - things, so I could make up my mind whether she was forgiving the doctor or - not. Not that I had much doubt but what they would get their personal - troubles fixed up in the end. The iron grating in the floor was held down - by four good-sized screws, one at each corner. They wasn't no filling at - all betwixt it and the iron grating that was in the ceiling of the room - below. The space was hollow. I got an idea and took out my jack-knife. - </p> - <p> - “What are you going to do?” whispers Martha. - </p> - <p> - “S-sh-sh,” I says, “shut up, and you'll see.” - </p> - <p> - One of the screws was loose, and I picked her out easy enough. The second - one I broke the point off of my knife blade on. Like you nearly always do - on a screw. When it snapped Colonel Tom he says: - </p> - <p> - “What's that?” He was powerful quick of hearing, Colonel Tom was. I laid - low till they went on talking agin. Then Martha slides out on tiptoe and - comes back in three seconds with one of these here little screw-drivers - they use around sewing-machines and the little oil can that goes with it. - I oils them screws and has them out in a holy minute, and lifts the - grating from the floor careful and lays it careful on the rug. - </p> - <p> - By doing all of which I could get my head and shoulders down into that - there hole. And by twisting my neck a good deal, see a little ways to each - side into the room, instead of jest underneath the grating. The doctor I - couldn't see yet, and only a little of Colonel Tom, but Miss Lucy quite - plain. - </p> - <p> - “You mean thing,” Martha whispers, “you are blocking it up so I can't - hear.” - </p> - <p> - “Keep still,” I whispers, pulling my head out of the hole so the sound - wouldn't float downward into the room below. “You are jest like all other - women—you got too much curiosity.” - </p> - <p> - “How about yourself?” says she. - </p> - <p> - “Who was it thought of taking the grating off?” I whispers back to her. - Which settles her temporary, but she says if I don't give her a chancet at - it purty soon she will tickle my ribs. - </p> - <p> - When I listens agin they are burying that there Prent McMakin. But without - any flowers. - </p> - <p> - Miss Lucy, she was half setting on, half leaning against, the arm of a - chair. Which her head was jest a bit bowed down so that I couldn't see her - eyes. But they was the beginnings of a smile onto her face. It was both - soft and sad. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” says Colonel Tom, “you two have wasted almost twenty years of - life.” - </p> - <p> - “There is one good thing,” says the doctor. “It is a good thing that there - was no child to suffer by our mistakes.” - </p> - <p> - She raised her face when he said that, Miss Lucy did, and looked in his - direction. - </p> - <p> - “You call that a good thing?” she says, in a kind of wonder. And after a - minute she sighs. “Perhaps,” she says, “you are right. Heaven only knows. - Perhaps it <i>was</i> better that he died.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Died!</i>” sings out the doctor. - </p> - <p> - And I hearn his chair scrape back, like he had riz to his feet sudden. I - nearly busted my neck trying fur to see him, but I couldn't. I was all - twisted up, head down, and the blood getting into my head from it so I had - to pull it out every little while. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she says, with her eyes wide, “didn't you know he died?” And then - she turns quick toward Colonel Tom. “Didn't you tell him—” she - begins. But the doctor cuts in. - </p> - <p> - “Lucy,” he says, his voice shaking and croaking in his throat, “I never - knew there was a child!” - </p> - <p> - I hears Colonel Tom hawk in <i>his</i> throat like a man who is either - going to spit or else say something. But he don't do either one. No one - says anything fur a minute. And then Miss Lucy says agin: - </p> - <p> - “Yes—he died.” - </p> - <p> - And then she fell into a kind of a muse. I have been myself in the fix she - looked to be in then—so you forget fur a while where you are, or who - is there, whilst you think about something that has been in the back part - of your mind fur a long, long time. - </p> - <p> - What she was musing about was that child that hadn't lived. I could tell - that by her face. I could tell how she must have thought of it, often and - often, fur years and years, and longed fur it, so that it seemed to her at - times she could almost touch it. And how good a mother she would of been - to it. Some women has jest natcherally <i>got</i> to mother something or - other. Miss Lucy was one of that kind. I knowed all in a flash, whilst I - looked at her there, why she had adopted Martha fur her child. - </p> - <p> - It was a wonderful look that was onto her face. And it was a wonderful - face that look was onto. I felt like I had knowed her forever when I seen - her there. Like the thoughts of her the doctor had been carrying around - with him fur years and years, and that I had caught him thinking oncet or - twicet, had been my thoughts too, all my life. - </p> - <p> - Miss Lucy, she was one of the kind there's no use trying to describe. The - feller that could see her that-a-way and not feel made good by it orter - have a whaling. Not the kind of sticky, good feeling that makes you - uncomfortable, like being pestered by your conscience to jine a church or - quit cussing. But the kind of good that makes you forget they is anything - on earth but jest braveness of heart and being willing to bear things you - can't help. You knowed the world had hurt her a lot when you seen her - standing there; but you didn't have the nerve to pity her none, either. - Fur you could see she had got over pitying herself. Even when she was in - that muse, longing with all her soul fur that child she had never knowed, - you didn't have the nerve to pity her none. - </p> - <p> - “He died,” she says agin, purty soon, with that gentle kind of smile. - </p> - <p> - Colonel Tom, he clears his throat agin. Like when you are awful dry. - </p> - <p> - “The truth is—” he begins. - </p> - <p> - And then he breaks off agin. Miss Lucy turns toward him when he speaks. By - the strange look that come onto her face there must of been something - right curious in <i>his</i> manner too. I was jest simply laying onto my - forehead mashing one of my dern eyeballs through a little hole in the - grating. But I couldn't, even that way, see fur enough to one side to see - how <i>he</i> looked. - </p> - <p> - “The truth is,” says Colonel Tom, trying it agin, “that I—well, - Lucy, the child may be dead, but he didn't die when you thought he did.” - </p> - <p> - There was a flash of hope flared into her face that I hated to see come - there. Because when it died out in a minute, as I expected it would have - to, it looked to me like it might take all her life out with it. Her lips - parted like she was going to say something with them. But she didn't. She - jest looked it. - </p> - <p> - “Why did you never tell me this—that there was a child?” says the - doctor, very eager. - </p> - <p> - “Wait,” says Colonel Tom, “let me tell the story in my own way.” - </p> - <p> - Which he done it. It seems when he had went to Galesburg this here child - had only been born a few days. And Miss Lucy was still sick. And the kid - itself was sick, and liable to die any minute, by the looks of things. - </p> - <p> - Which Colonel Tom wishes that it would die, in his heart. He thinks that - it is an illegitimate child, and he hates the idea of it and he hates the - sight of it. The second night he is there he is setting in his sister's - room, and the woman that has been nursing the kid and Miss Lucy too is in - the next room with the kid. - </p> - <p> - She comes to the door and beckons to him, the nurse does. He tiptoes - toward her, and she says to him, very low-voiced, that “it is all over.” - Meaning the kid has quit struggling fur to live, and jest natcherally - floated away. The nurse had thought Miss Lucy asleep, but as both her and - Colonel Tom turn quick toward her bed they see that she has heard and - seen, and she turns her face toward the wall. Which he tries fur to - comfort her, Colonel Tom does, telling her as how it is an illegitimate - child, and fur its own sake it was better it was dead before it ever lived - any. Which she don't answer of him back, but only stares in a wild-eyed - way at him, and lays there and looks desperate, and says nothing. - </p> - <p> - In his heart Colonel Tom is awful glad that it is dead. He can't help - feeling that way. And he quits trying to talk to his sister, fur he - suspicions that she will ketch onto the fact that he is glad that it is - dead. He goes on into the next room. - </p> - <p> - He finds the nurse looking awful funny, and bending over the dead kid. She - is putting a looking-glass to its lips. He asts her why. - </p> - <p> - She says she thought she might be mistaken after all. She couldn't say - jest <i>when</i> it died. It was alive and feeble, and then purty soon it - showed no signs of life. It was like it hadn't had enough strength to stay - and had jest went. I didn't show any pulse, and it didn't appear to be - breathing. And she had watched it and done everything before she beckoned - to Colonel Tom and told him that it was dead. But as she come back into - the room where it was she thought she noticed something that was too light - to be called a real flutter move its eyelids, which she had closed down - over its eyes. It was the ghost of a move, like it had tried to raise the - lids, or they had tried to raise theirselves, and had been too weak. So - she has got busy and wrapped a hot cloth around it, and got a drop of - brandy or two between its lips, and was fighting to bring it back to life. - And thought she was doing it. Thought she had felt a little flutter in its - chest, and was trying if it had breath at all. - </p> - <p> - Colonel Tom thinks of what big folks the Buckner fambly has always been at - home. And how high they had always held their heads. And how none of the - women has ever been like this before. Nor no disgrace of any kind. And - that there kid, if it is alive, is a sign of disgrace. And he hoped to - God, he said, it wasn't alive. - </p> - <p> - But he don't say so. He stands there and watches that nurse fight fur to - hold onto the little mist of life she thinks now is still into it. She - unbuttons her dress and lays the kid against the heat of her own breast. - And wills fur it to live, and fights fur it to, and determines that it - must, and jest natcherally tries fur to bullyrag death into going away. - And Colonel Tom watching, and wishing that it wouldn't. But he gets - interested in that there fight, and so purty soon he is hoping both ways - by spells. And the fight all going on without a word spoken. - </p> - <p> - But finally the nurse begins fur to cry. Not because she is sure it is - dead. But because she is sure it is coming back. Which it does, slow. - </p> - <p> - “'But I have told <i>her</i> that it is dead,'” says Colonel Tom, jerking - his head toward the other room where Miss Lucy is lying. He speaks in a - low voice and closes the door when he speaks. Fur it looks now like it was - getting strong enough so it might even squall a little. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know what kind of a look there was on my face,” says Colonel Tom, - telling of the story to his sister and the doctor, “but she must have seen - that I was—and heaven help me, but I <i>was</i>!—sorry that - the baby was alive. It would have been such an easy way out of it had it - been really dead! - </p> - <p> - “'She mustn't know that it is living,' I said to the nurse, finally,” says - Colonel Tom, going on with his story. I had been watching Miss Lucy's face - as Colonel Tom talked and she was so worked up by that fight fur the kid's - life she was breathless. But her eyes was cast down, I guess so her - brother couldn't see them. Colonel Tom goes on with his story: - </p> - <p> - “'You don't mean—' said the nurse, startled. - </p> - <p> - “'No! No!' I said, 'of course—not that! But—why should she - ever know that it didn't die?'” - </p> - <p> - “'It is illegitimate?' asked the nurse. - </p> - <p> - “'Yes,' I said.” The long and short of it was, Colonel Tom went on to - tell, that the nurse went out and got her mother. Which the two of them - lived alone, only around the corner. And give the child into the keeping - of her mother, who took it away then and there. - </p> - <p> - Colonel Tom had made up his mind there wasn't going to be no bastards in - the Buckner fambly. And now that Miss Lucy thought it was dead he would - let her keep on thinking so. And that would be settled for good and all. - He figgered that it wouldn't ever hurt her none if she never knowed it. - </p> - <p> - The nurse's mother kept it all that week, and it throve. Colonel Tom was - coaxing of his sister to go back to Tennessee. But she wouldn't go. So he - had made up his mind to go back and get his Aunt Lucy Davis to come and - help him coax. He was only waiting fur his sister to get well enough so he - could leave her. She got better, and she never ast fur the kid, nor said - nothing about it. Which was probable because she seen he hated it so. He - had made up his mind, before he went back after their Aunt Lucy Davis, to - take the baby himself and put it into some kind of an institution. - </p> - <p> - “I thought,” he says to Miss Lucy, telling of the story, “that you - yourself were almost reconciled to the thought that it hadn't lived.” - </p> - <p> - Miss Lucy interrupted him with a little sound. She was breathing hard, and - shaking from head to foot. No one would have thought to look at her then - she was reconciled to the idea that it hadn't lived. It was cruel hard on - her to tear her to pieces with the news that it really had lived, but had - lived away from her all these years she had been longing fur it. And no - chancet fur her ever to mother it. And no way to tell what had ever become - of it. I felt awful sorry fur Miss Lucy then. - </p> - <p> - “But when I got ready to leave Galesburg,” Colonel Tom goes on, “it - suddenly occurred to me that there would be difficulties in the way of - putting it in a home of any sort. I didn't know what to do with it—” - </p> - <p> - “What <i>did</i> you? What <i>did</i> you? <i>What did you</i>?” cries out - Miss Lucy, pressing her hand to her chest, like she was smothering. - </p> - <p> - “The first thing I did,” says Colonel Tom, “was to get you to another - house—you remember, Lucy?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes!” she says, excited, “and what then?” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I did a very foolish thing,” says Colonel Tom. - </p> - <p> - “After I had seen you installed in the new place and had bidden you - good-bye, I got a carriage and drove by the place where the nurse and her - mother lived. I told the woman that I had changed my mind—that you - were going to raise the baby—that I was going to permit it. I don't - think she quite believed me, but she gave me the baby. What else could she - do? Besides, I had paid her well, when I discharged her, to say nothing to - you, and to keep the baby until I should come for it. They needed money; - they were poor. - </p> - <p> - “I was determined that it should never be heard of again. It was about - noon when I left Galesburg. I drove all that afternoon, with the baby in a - basket on the seat of the carriage beside me. Everybody has read in books, - since books were first written—and seen in newspapers, too—about - children being left on door steps. Given an infant to dispose of, that is - perhaps the first thing that occurs to a person. There was a thick plaid - shawl wrapped about the child. In the basket, beside the baby, was a - nursing bottle. About dusk I had it refilled with warm milk at a farmhouse - near—” - </p> - <p> - My head was beginning fur to swim. I pulled my head out of that there - hole, and rammed my foot into it. It banged against that grating and - loosened it. It busted loose some plaster, which showered down into the - room underneath. Miss Lucy, she screamed. And the doctor and Colonel Tom - both yelled out to oncet: - </p> - <p> - “Who's that?” - </p> - <p> - “It's me,” I yells, banging that grating agin. “Watch out below there!” - And the third lick I give her she broke loose and clattered down right - onto a centre table and spilled over some photographs and a vase full of - flowers, and bounced off onto the floor. - </p> - <p> - “Look out below,” I yells, “I'm coming down!” - </p> - <p> - I let my legs through first, and swung them so I would land to one side of - the table, and held by my hands, and dropped. But struck the table a - sideways swipe and turned it over, and fell onto the floor. The doctor, he - grabbed me by the collar and straightened me up, and give me a shake and - stood me onto my feet. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean—” he begins. But I breaks in. - </p> - <p> - “Now then,” I says to Colonel Tom, “did you leave that there child sucking - that there bottle on the doorstep of a blacksmith's house next to his shop - at the edge of a little country town about twenty miles northeast of - Galesburg wrapped up in that there plaid shawl?” - </p> - <p> - “I did,” says Colonel Tom. - </p> - <p> - “Then,” says I, turning to Miss Lucy, “I can understand why I have been - feeling drawed to <i>you</i> fur quite a spell. I'm him.” - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Transcribers Note: The following changes made: - ORIGINAL - PAGE LINE ORIGINAL CHANGED TO - 17 28 Primose, Primrose, - 41 12 jests looks jest looks - 83 14 to, too, - 84 4 jests sets jest sets - 89 28 it it. - 99 13 our fur out fur - 121 4 Chieftan. Chieftain. - 121 16 i it if it - 160 8 them. then. - 183 18 sir fo' sir, fo' - 189 16 shedon' she don' - 207 22 purty seen purty soon - 210 5 They way The way - 212 6 pintetdly pintedly - 251 2 Witherses.' Witherses'. - 251 22 toe hurt to hurt - 269 3 “Gentleman, “Gentlemen, - 276 19 'Will,” “Will,” - 282 9 won't!” won't - 288 16 real y really - 292 10 t ouble. trouble. - 308 1 al right all right - 316 4 I says,” they I says, “they -</pre> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Danny's Own Story, by Don Marquis - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANNY'S OWN STORY *** - -***** This file should be named 51925-h.htm or 51925-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/2/51925/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Danny's Own Story - -Author: Don Marquis - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51925] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANNY'S OWN STORY *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - -DANNY'S OWN STORY - -By Don Marquis - - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0010] - -[Illustration: 0011] - - - -TO - - -MY WIFE - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -HOW I come not to have a last name is a question that has always had -more or less aggervation mixed up with it. I might of had one jest -as well as not if Old Hank Walters hadn't been so all-fired, infernal -bull-headed about things in gineral, and his wife Elmira a blame sight -worse, and both of em ready to row at a minute's notice and stick to it -forevermore. - -Hank, he was considerable of a lusher. One Saturday night, when he come -home from the village in his usual fix, he stumbled over a basket that -was setting on his front steps. Then he got up and drawed back his foot -unsteady to kick it plumb into kingdom come. Jest then he hearn Elmira -opening the door behind him, and he turned his head sudden. But the kick -was already started into the air, and when he turns he can't stop it. -And so Hank gets twisted and falls down and steps on himself. That -basket lets out a yowl. - -"It's kittens," says Hank, still setting down and staring at that there -basket. All of which, you understand, I am a-telling you from hearsay, -as the lawyers always asts you in court. - -Elmira, she sings out: - -"Kittens, nothing! It's a baby!" - -And she opens the basket and looks in and it was me. - -"Hennerey Walters," she says--picking me up, and shaking me at him like -I was a crime, "Hennerey Walters, where did you get this here baby?" She -always calls him Hennerey when she is getting ready to give him fits. - -Hank, he scratches his head, for he's kind o' confuddled, and thinks -mebby he really has brought this basket with him. He tries to think of -all the places he has been that night. But he can't think of any place -but Bill Nolan's saloon. So he says: - -"Elmira, honest, I ain't had but one drink all day." And then he kind o' -rouses up a little bit, and gets surprised and says: - -"That a _baby_ you got there, Elmira?" And then he says, dignified: "So -fur as that's consarned, Elmira, where did _you_ get that there baby?" - -She looks at him, and she sees he don't really know where I come from. -Old Hank mostly was truthful when lickered up, fur that matter, and she -knowed it, fur he couldn't think up no lies excepting a gineral denial -when intoxicated up to the gills. - -Elmira looks into the basket. They was one of them long rubber tubes -stringing out of a bottle that was in it, and I had been sucking that -bottle when interrupted. And they wasn't nothing else in that basket but -a big thick shawl which had been wrapped all around me, and Elmira -often wore it to meeting afterward. She goes inside and she looks at -the bottle and me by the light, and Old Hank, he comes stumbling in -afterward and sets down in a chair and waits to get Hail Columbia for -coming home in that shape, so's he can row back agin, like they done -every Saturday night. - -Blowed in the glass of the bottle was the name: "Daniel, Dunne and -Company." Anybody but them two old ignoramuses could of told right off -that that didn't have nothing to do with me, but was jest the company -that made them kind of bottles. But she reads it out loud three or four -times, and then she says: - -"His name is Daniel Dunne," she says. - -"And Company," says Hank, feeling right quarrelsome. - -"_Company_ hain't no name," says she. - -"_Why_ hain't it, I'd like to know?" says Hank. "I knowed a man oncet -whose name was Farmer, and if a farmer's a name why ain't a company a -name too?" - -"His name is Daniel Dunne," says Elmira, quietlike, but not dodging a -row, neither. - -"_And company_," says Hank, getting onto his feet, like he always done -when he seen trouble coming. When Old Hank was full of licker he knowed -jest the ways to aggervate her the worst. - -She might of banged him one the same as usual, and got her own eye -blacked also, the same as usual; but jest then I lets out another big -yowl, and she give me some milk. - -I guess the only reason they ever kep' me at first was so they could -quarrel about my name. They'd lived together a good many years and -quarrelled about everything else under the sun, and was running out of -subjects. A new subject kind o' briskened things up fur a while. - -But finally they went too far with it one time. I was about two years -old then and he was still calling me Company and her calling me Dunne. -This time he hits her a lick that lays her out and likes to kill her, -and it gets him scared. But she gets around agin after a while, and they -both see it has went too fur that time, and so they makes up. - -"Elmira, I give in," says Hank. "His name is Dunne." - -"No," says she, tender-like, "you was right, Hank. His name is Company." -So they pretty near got into another row over that. But they finally -made it up between em I didn't have no last name, and they'd jest call -me Danny. Which they both done faithful ever after, as agreed. - -Old Hank, he was a blacksmith, and he used to lamm me considerable, him -and his wife not having any kids of their own to lick. He lammed me when -he was drunk, and he whaled me when he was sober. I never helt it up -agin him much, neither, not fur a good many years, because he got me -used to it young, and I hadn't never knowed nothing else. Hank's wife, -Elmira, she used to lick him jest about as often as he licked her, and -boss him jest as much. So he fell back on me. A man has jest naturally -got to have something to cuss around and boss, so's to keep himself -from finding out he don't amount to nothing. Leastways, most men is like -that. And Hank, he didn't amount to much; and he kind o' knowed it, way -down deep in his inmost gizzards, and it were a comfort to him to have -me around. - -But they was one thing he never sot no store by, and I got along now to -where I hold that up agin him more'n all the lickings he ever done. That -was book learning. He never had none himself, and he was sot agin it, -and he never made me get none, and if I'd ever asted him for any he'd -of whaled me fur that. Hank's wife, Elmira, had married beneath her, and -everybody in our town had come to see it, and used to sympathize with -her about it when Hank wasn't around. She'd tell em, yes, it was so. -Back in Elmira, New York, from which her father and mother come to our -part of Illinoise in the early days, her father had kep' a hotel, -and they was stylish kind o' folks. When she was born her mother was -homesick fur all that style and fur York State ways, and so she named -her Elmira. - -But when she married Hank, he had considerable land. His father had left -it to him, but it was all swamp land, and so Hank's father, he hunted -more'n he farmed, and Hank and his brothers done the same when he was a -boy. But Hank, he learnt a little blacksmithing when he was growing up, -cause he liked to tinker around and to show how stout he was. Then, -when he married Elmira Appleton, he had to go to work practising that -perfession reg'lar, because he never learnt nothing about farming. He'd -sell fifteen or twenty acres, every now and then, and they'd be high -times till he'd spent it up, and mebby Elmira would get some new -clothes. - -But when I was found on the door step, the land was all gone, and Hank -was practising reg'lar, when not busy cussing out the fellers that had -bought the land. Fur some smart fellers had come along, and bought up -all that swamp land and dreened it, and now it was worth seventy or -eighty dollars an acre. Hank, he figgered some one had cheated him. -Which the Walterses could of dreened theirn too, only they'd ruther -hunt ducks and have fish frys than to dig ditches. All of which I hearn -Elmira talking over with the neighbours more'n once when I was growing -up, and they all says: "How sad it is you have came to this, Elmira!" -And then she'd kind o' spunk up and say, thanks to glory, she'd kep' her -pride. - -Well, they was worse places to live in than that there little town, even -if they wasn't no railroad within eight miles, and only three hundred -soles in the hull copperation. Which Hank's shop and our house set in -the edge of the woods jest outside the copperation line, so's the city -marshal didn't have no authority to arrest him after he crossed it. - -They was one thing in that house I always admired when I was a kid. And -that was a big cistern. Most people has their cisterns outside their -house, and they is a tin pipe takes all the rain water off the roof and -scoots it into them. Ourn worked the same, but our cistern was right in -under our kitchen floor, and they was a trap door with leather hinges -opened into it right by the kitchen stove. But that wasn't why I was -so proud of it. It was because that cistern was jest plumb full of -fish--bullheads and red horse and sunfish and other kinds. - -Hank's father had built that cistern. And one time he brung home some -live fish in a bucket and dumped em in there. And they growed. And they -multiplied in there and refurnished the earth. So that cistern had got -to be a fambly custom, which was kep' up in that fambly for a habit. -It was a great comfort to Hank, fur all them Walterses was great fish -eaters, though it never went to brains. We fed em now and then, and -throwed back in the little ones till they was growed, and kep' the dead -ones picked out soon's we smelled anything wrong, and it never hurt the -water none; and when I was a kid I wouldn't of took anything fur living -in a house like that. - -Oncet, when I was a kid about six years old, Hank come home from the -bar-room. He got to chasing Elmira's cat cause he says it was making -faces at him. The cistern door was open, and Hank fell in. Elmira was -over to town, and I was scared. She had always told me not to fool -around there none when I was a little kid, fur if I fell in there I'd be -a corpse quicker'n scatt. - -So when Hank fell in, and I hearn him splash, being only a little -feller, and awful scared because Elmira had always made it so strong, -I hadn't no sort of unbelief but what Hank was a corpse already. So I -slams the trap door shut over that there cistern without looking in, -fur I hearn Hank flopping around down in there. I hadn't never hearn -a corpse flop before, and didn't know but what it might be somehow -injurious to me, and I wasn't going to take no chances. - -So I went out and played in the front yard, and waited fur Elmira. But -I couldn't seem to get my mind settled on playing I was a horse, nor -nothing. I kep' thinking mebby Hank's corpse is going to come flopping -out of that cistern and whale me some unusual way. I hadn't never been -licked by a corpse, and didn't rightly know jest what one is, anyhow, -being young and comparitive innocent. So I sneaks back in and sets -all the flatirons in the house on top of the cistern lid. I hearn some -flopping and splashing and spluttering, like Hank's corpse is trying to -jump up and is falling back into the water, and I hearn Hank's voice, -and got scareder yet. And when Elmira come along down the road, she seen -me by the gate a-crying, and she asts me why. - -"Hank is a corpse," says I, blubbering. - -"A corpse!" says Elmira, dropping her coffee which she was carrying home -from the gineral store and post-office. "Danny, what do you mean?" - -I seen I was to blame somehow, and I wisht then I hadn't said nothing -about Hank being a corpse. And I made up my mind I wouldn't say nothing -more. So when she grabs holt of me and asts me agin what did I mean -I blubbered harder, jest the way a kid will, and says nothing else. I -wisht I hadn't set them flatirons on that door, fur it come to me all at -oncet that even if Hank _has_ turned into a corpse I ain't got any right -to keep him in that cistern. - -Jest then Old Mis' Rogers, which is one of our neighbours, comes by, -while Elmira is shaking me and yelling out what did I mean and how did -it happen and had I saw it and where was Hank's corpse? - -And Mis' Rogers she says, "What's Danny been doing now, Elmira?" me -being always up to something. - -Elmira she turned around and seen her, and she gives a whoop and then -hollers out: "Hank is dead!" and throws her apern over her head and sets -right down in the path and boo-hoos like a baby. And I bellers louder. - -Mis' Rogers, she never waited to ast nothing more. She seen she had a -piece of news, and she's bound to be the first to spread it, like they -is always a lot of women wants to be in them country towns. She run -right acrost the road to where the Alexanderses lived. Mis' Alexander, -she seen her coming and unhooked the screen door, and Mis' Rogers she -hollers out before she reached the porch: - -"Hank Walters is dead." - -And then she went footing it up the street. They was a black plume on -her bunnet which nodded the same as on a hearse, and she was into and -out of seven front yards in five minutes. - -Mis' Alexander, she runs acrost the street to where we was, and she -kneels down and puts her arm around Elmira, which was still rocking back -and forth in the path, and she says: - -"How do you know he's dead, Elmira? I seen him not more'n an hour ago." - -"Danny seen it all," says Elmira. - -Mis' Alexander turned to me, and wants to know what happened and how it -happened and where it happened. But I don't want to say nothing about -that cistern. So I busts out bellering fresher'n ever, and I says: - -"He was drunk, and he come home drunk, and he done it then, and that's -how he cone it," I says. - -"And you seen him?" she says. I nodded. - -"Where is he?" says she and Elmira, both to oncet. - -But I was scared to say nothing about that there cistern, so I jest -bawled some more. - -"Was it in the blacksmith shop?" says Mis' Alexander. I nodded my head -agin and let it go at that. - -"Is he in there now?" asts Mis' Alexander. I nodded agin. I hadn't meant -to give out no untrue stories. But a kid will always tell a lie, not -meaning to tell one, if you sort of invite him with questions like that, -and get him scared the way you're acting. Besides, I says to myself, "so -long as Hank has turned into a corpse and that makes him dead, what's -the difference whether he's in the blacksmith shop or not?" Fur I hadn't -had any plain idea, being such a little kid, that a corpse meant to be -dead, and wasn't sure what being dead was like, neither, except they had -funerals over you then. I knowed being a corpse must be some sort of -a big disadvantage from the way Elmira always says keep away from that -cistern door or I'll be one. But if they was going to be a funeral in -our house, I'd feel kind o' important, too. They didn't have em every -day in our town, and we hadn't never had one of our own. - -So Mis' Alexander, she led Elmira into the house, both a-crying, and -Mis' Alexander trying to comfort her, and me a tagging along behind -holding onto Elmira's skirts and sniffling into them. And in a few -minutes all them women Mis' Rogers has told come filing into that room, -one at a time, looking sad. Only Old Mis' Primrose, she was awful late -getting there because she stopped to put on her bunnet she always wore -to funerals with the black Paris lace on it her cousin Arminty White had -sent her from Chicago. - -When they found out Hank had come home with licker in him and done it -himself, they was all excited, and they all crowds around and asts me -how, except two as is holding onto Elmira's hands which sets moaning in -a chair. And they all asts me questions as to what I seen him do, which -if they hadn't I wouldn't have told em the lies I did. But they egged me -on to it. - -Says one woman: "Danny, you seen him do it in the blacksmith shop?" - -I nodded. - -"But how did he get in?" sings out another woman. "The door was locked -on the outside with a padlock jest now when I come by. He couldn't of -killed himself in there and locked the door on the outside." - -I didn't see how he could of done that myself, so I begun to bawl agin -and said nothing at all. - -"He must of crawled through that little side window," says another one. -"It was open when I come by, if the door _was_ locked. Did you see him -crawl through the little side window, Danny?" - -I nodded. They wasn't nothing else fur me to do. - -"But _you_ hain't tall enough to look through that there window," says -another one to me. "How could you see into that shop, Danny?" - -I didn't know, so I didn't say nothing at all; I jest sniffled. - -"They is a store box right in under that window," says another one. -"Danny must have clumb onto that store box and looked in after he seen -Hank come down the road and crawl through the window. Did you scramble -onto the store box and look in, Danny?" - -I jest nodded agin. - -"And what was it you seen him do? How did he kill himself?" they all -asts to oncet. - -_I_ didn't know. So I jest bellers and boo-hoos some more. Things was -getting past anything I could see the way out of. - -"He might of hung himself to one of the iron rings in the jists above -the forge," says another woman. "He clumb onto the forge to tie the rope -to one of them rings, and he tied the other end around his neck, and -then he stepped off'n the forge. Was that how he done it, Danny?" - -I nodded. And then I bellered louder than ever. I knowed Hank was down -in that there cistern, a corpse and a mighty wet corpse, all this time; -but they kind o' got me to thinking mebby he was hanging out in the shop -by the forge, too. And I guessed I'd better stick to the shop story, not -wanting to say nothing about that cistern no sooner'n I could help it. - -Pretty soon one woman says, kind o' shivery: - -"I don't want to have the job of opening the door of that blacksmith -shop the first one!" - -And they all kind o' shivered then, and looked at Elmira. They says to -let some of the men open it. And Mis' Alexander, she says she'll run -home and tell her husband right off. - -And all the time Elmira is moaning in that chair. One woman says Elmira -orter have a cup o' tea, which she'll lay off her bunnet and go to the -kitchen and make it fur her. But Elmira says no, she can't a-bear to -think of tea, with poor Hennerey a-hanging out there in the shop. But -she was kind o' enjoying all that fuss being made over her, too. And all -the other women says: - -"Poor thing!" But all the same they was mad she said she didn't want any -tea, for they all wanted some and didn't feel free without she took it -too. Which she said she would after they'd coaxed a while and made her -see her duty. - -So they all goes out to the kitchen, bringing along some of the best -room chairs, Elmira coming too, and me tagging along behind. And the -first thing they noticed was them flatirons on top of the cistern door. -Mis' Primrose, she says that looks funny. But another woman speaks up -and says Danny must of been playing with them while Elmira was over -town. She says, "Was you playing they was horses, Danny?" - -I was feeling considerable like a liar by this time, but I says I was -playing horses with them, fur I couldn't see no use in hurrying things -up. I was bound to get a lamming purty soon anyhow. When I was a kid I -could always bet on that. So they picks up the flatirons, and as they -picks em up they come a splashing noise in the cistern. I thinks to -myself, Hank's corpse'll be out of there in a minute. One woman, she -says: - -"Goodness gracious sakes alive! What's that, Elmira?" - -Elmira says that cistern is mighty full of fish, and they is some great -big ones in there, and it must be some of them a-flopping around. Which -if they hadn't of been all worked up and talking all to oncet and all -thinking of Hank's body hanging out there in the blacksmith shop they -might of suspicioned something. For that flopping kep' up steady, and a -lot of splashing too. I mebby orter mentioned sooner it had been a dry -summer and they was only three or four feet of water in our cistern, and -Hank wasn't in scarcely up to his big hairy chest. So when Elmira says -the cistern is full of fish, that woman opens the trap door and looks -in. Hank thinks it's Elmira come to get him out. He allows he'll keep -quiet in there and make believe he is drowned and give her a good scare -and make her sorry fur him. But when the cistern door is opened, he -hears a lot of clacking tongues all of a sudden like they was a hen -convention on. He allows she has told some of the neighbours, and he'll -scare them too. So Hank, he laid low. And the woman as looks in sees -nothing, for it's as dark down there as the insides of the whale what -swallered Noah. But she leaves the door open and goes on a-making tea, -and they ain't skeercly a sound from that cistern, only little, ripply -noises like it might have been fish. - -Pretty soon a woman says: - -"It has drawed, Elmira; won't you have a cup?" Elmira she kicked some -more, but she took hern. And each woman took hern. And one woman, -a-sipping of hern, she says: - -"The departed had his good pints, Elmira." - -Which was the best thing had been said of Hank in that town fur years -and years. - -Old Mis' Primrose, she always prided herself on being honest, no matter -what come, and she ups and says: - -"I don't believe in no hippercritics at a time like this, no more'n no -other time. The departed wasn't no good, and the hull town knowed it; -and Elmira orter feel like it's good riddance of bad rubbish and them is -my sentiments and the sentiments of rightfulness." - -All the other women sings out: - -"W'y, _Mis' Primrose_! I never!" And they seemed awful shocked. But down -in underneath more of em agreed than let on. Elmira she wiped her eyes -and she said: - -"Hennerey and me has had our troubles. They ain't any use in denying -that, Mis' Primrose. It has often been give and take between us and -betwixt us. And the hull town knows he has lifted his hand agin me -more'n oncet. But I always stood up to Hennerey, and I fit him back, -free and fair and open. I give him as good as he sent on this here -earth, and I ain't the one to carry no annermosities beyond the grave. I -forgive Hank all the orneriness he done me, and they was a lot of it, as -is becoming unto a church member, which he never was." - -And all the women but Mis' Primrose, they says: - -"Elmira Appleton, you _have_ got a Christian sperrit!" Which done her a -heap of good, and she cried considerable harder, leaking out tears as -fast as she poured tea in. Each one on em tries to find out something -good to say about Hank, only they wasn't much they could say. And Hank -in that there cistern a-listening to every word of it. - -Mis' Rogers, she says: - -"Afore he took to drinking like a fish, Hank Walters was as likely -looking a young feller as I ever see." - -Mis' White, she says: - -"Well, Hank he never was a stingy man, nohow. Often and often White has -told me about seeing Hank, after he'd sold a piece of land, treating the -hull town down in Nolan's bar-room jest as come-easy, go-easy as if it -wasn't money he orter paid his honest debts with." - -They set there that-a-way telling of what good pints they could think of -fur ten minutes, and Hank a-hearing it and getting madder and madder -all the time. The gineral opinion was that Hank wasn't no good and -was better done fur, and no matter what they said them feelings kep' -sticking out through the words. - -By and by Tom Alexander come busting into the house, and his wife, Mis' -Alexander, was with him. - -"What's the matter with all you folks," he says. "They ain't nobody -hanging in that there blacksmith shop. I broke the door down and went -in, and it was empty." - -Then they was a pretty howdy-do, and they all sings out: - -"Where's the corpse?" - -And some thinks mebby some one has cut it down and took it away, and all -gabbles to oncet. But for a minute no one thinks mebby little Danny has -been egged on to tell lies. Little Danny ain't saying a word. But Elmira -she grabs me and shakes me and she says: - -"You little liar, you, what do you mean by that tale you told?" - -I thinks that lamming is about due now. But whilst all eyes is turned on -me and Elmira, they comes a voice from that cistern. It is Hank's voice, -and he sings out: - -"Tom Alexander, is that you?" - -Some of the women scream, for some thinks it is Hank's ghost. But one -woman says what would a ghost be doing in a cistern? - -Tom Alexander, he laughs and he says: - -"What in blazes you want to jump in there fur, Hank?" - -"You dern ijut!" says Hank, "you quit mocking me and get a ladder, and -when I get out'n here I'll learn you to ast what did I want to jump in -here fur!" - -"You never seen the day you could do it," says Tom Alexander, meaning -the day he could lick him. "And if you feel that way about it you can -stay there fur all of me. I guess a little water won't hurt you none." -And he left the house. - -"Elmira," sings out Hank, mad and bossy, "you go get me a ladder!" - -But Elmira, her temper riz up too, all of a sudden. - -"Don't you dare order me around like I was the dirt under your feet, -Hennerey Walters," she says. - -At that Hank fairly roared, he was so mad. He says: - -"Elmira, when I get out'n here I'll give you what you won't fergit in a -hurry. I hearn you a-forgiving me and a-weeping over me, and I won't be -forgive nor weeped over by no one! You go and get that ladder." - -But Elmira only answers: - -"You wasn't sober when you fell into there, Hennerey Walters. And now -you can jest stay in there till you get a better temper on you!" And all -the women says: "That's right, Elmira; spunk up to him!" - -[Illustration: 0039] - -They was considerable splashing around in the water fur a couple of -minutes. And then, all of a sudden, a live fish come a-whirling out -of that hole, which he had ketched it with his hands. It was a big -bullhead, and its whiskers around its mouth was stiffened into spikes, -and it lands kerplump into Mis' Rogers's lap, a-wiggling, and it kind -o' horns her on the hands, and she is that surprised she faints. Mis' -Primrose, she gets up and pushes that fish back into the cistern with -her foot from the floor where it had fell, and she says right decided: - -"Elmira Walters, that was Elmira Appleton, if you let Hank out'n that -cistern before he has signed the pledge and promised to jine the church -you're a bigger fool 'n I take you to be. A woman has got to make a -stand!" With that she marches out'n our house. - -Then all the women sings out: - -"Send fur Brother Cartwright! Send fur Brother Cartwright!" - -And they sent me scooting acrost town to get him quick. Which he was the -preacher of the Baptist church and lived next to it. And I hadn't got no -lamming yet! - - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -I never stopped to tell but two, three folks on the way to Brother -Cartwright's, but they must of spread it quick. 'Cause when I got back -home with him it seemed like the hull town was there. It was along about -dusk by this time, and it was a prayer-meeting night at the church. -Mr. Cartwright told his wife to tell the folks what come to the -prayer-meeting he'd be back before long, and to wait fur him. Which she -really told them where he had went, and what fur. Mr. Cartwright -marches right into the kitchen. All the chairs in our house was into the -kitchen, and the women was a-talking and a-laughing, and they had sent -over to Alexanderses for their chairs and to Rogerses for theirn. Every -oncet in a while they would be a awful bust of language come up from -that hole where that unreginerate old sinner was cooped up in. - -I have travelled around considerable since them days, and I have mixed -up along of many kinds of people in many different places, and some -of 'em was cussers to admire. But I never hearn such cussing before or -since as old Hank done that night. He busted his own records and riz -higher'n his own water marks for previous times. I wasn't nothing but -a little kid then, and skeercly fitten fur to admire the full beauty of -it. They was deep down cusses, that come from the heart. Looking back -at it after all these years, I can believe what Brother Cartwright said -himself that night, that it wasn't natcheral cussing and some higher -power, like a demon or a evil sperrit, must of entered into Hank's human -carkis and give that turrible eloquence to his remarks. It busted out -every few minutes, and the women would put their fingers into their ears -till a spell was over. And it was personal, too. Hank, he would listen -until he hearn a woman's voice that he knowed, and then he would let -loose on her fambly, going backwards to her grandfathers and downwards -to her children's children. If her father had once stolen a hog, or her -husband done any disgrace that got found out on him, Hank would put it -all into his gineral remarks, with trimmings onto it. - -Brother Cartwright, he steps up to the hole in the floor when he first -comes in and he says, gentle-like and soothing, like a undertaker when he -tells you where to set at a home funeral: - -"Brother Walters." - -"Brother!" Hank yells out, "don't ye brother me, you sniffling, -psalm-singing, yaller-faced, pigeon-toed hippercrit, you! Get me a -ladder, gol dern you, and I'll come out'n here and learn you to brother -me, I will." Only that wasn't nothing to what Hank really said to that -preacher; no more like it than a little yaller, fluffy canary is like a -buzzard. - -"Brother Walters," says the preacher, ca'am but firm, "we have all -decided that you ain't going to come out of that cistern till you sign -the pledge." - -And Hank tells him what he thinks of pledges and him and church doings, -and it wasn't purty. And he says if he was as deep in eternal fire as -what he now is in rain-water, and every fish that nibbles at his toes -was a preacher with a red-hot pitchfork a-jabbing at him, they could jab -till the hull hereafter turned into snow afore he'd ever sign nothing a -man like Mr. Cartwright give him to sign. Hank was stubborner than any -mule he ever nailed shoes onto, and proud of being that stubborn. That -town was a awful religious town, and Hank he knowed he was called the -most onreligious man in it, and he was proud of that too; and if any one -called him a heathen it jest plumb tickled him all over. - -"Brother Walters," says that preacher, "we are going to pray for you." - -And they done it. They brought all them chairs close up around that -cistern, in a ring, and they all kneeled down there, with their heads -on 'em, and they prayed fur Hank's salvation. They done it up in style, -too, one at a time, and the others singing out, "Amen!" every now and -then, and they shed tears down onto Hank. The front yard was crowded -with men, all a-laughing and a-talking and chawing and spitting tobacco -and betting how long Hank would hold out. Old Si Emery, that was the -city marshal, and always wore a big nickel-plated star, was out there -with 'em. Si was in a sweat, 'cause Bill Nolan, that run the bar-room, -and some more of Hank's friends, or as near friends as he had, was out -in the road. They says to Si he must arrest that preacher, fur Hank is -being gradual murdered in that there water, and he'll die if he's helt -there too long, and it will be a crime. Only they didn't come into the -yard to say it amongst us religious folks. But Si, he says he dassent -arrest no one because it is outside the town copperation; but he's -considerable worried too about what his duty orter be. - -Pretty soon the gang that Mrs. Cartwright has rounded up at the -prayer-meeting comes stringing along in. They had all brung their hymn -books with them, and they sung. The hull town was there then, and they -all sung, and they sung revival hymns over Hank. And Hank he would jest -cuss and cuss. Every time he busted out into another cussing spell they -would start another hymn. Finally the men out in the front yard got -warmed up too, and begun to sing, all but Bill Nolan's crowd, and they -give Hank up for lost and went away disgusted. - -The first thing you knowed they was a reg'lar revival meeting there, and -that preacher was preaching a reg'lar revival sermon. I been to more'n -one camp meeting, but fur jest natcherally taking holt of the hull human -race by the slack of its pants and dangling of it over hell-fire, I -never hearn nothing could come up to that there sermon. Two or three old -backsliders in the crowd come right up and repented all over agin on the -spot. The hull kit and biling of 'em got the power good and hard, like -they does at camp meetings and revivals. But Hank, he only cussed. He -was obstinate, Hank was, and his pride and dander had riz up. Finally he -says: - -"You're taking a ornery, low-down advantage o' me, you are. Let me out'n -this here cistern and I'll show you who'll stick it out longest on dry -land, dern your religious hides!" - -Some of the folks there hadn't had no suppers, so after all the other -sinners but Hank had either got converted or else sneaked away, some of -the women says why not make a kind of love feast out of it, and bring -some vittles, like they does to church sociables. Because it seems -likely Satan is going to wrastle all night long, like he done with the -angel Jacob, and they ought to be prepared. So they done it. They went -and they come back with vittles and they made up hot coffee and they -feasted that preacher and theirselves and Elmira and me, all right in -Hank's hearing. - -And Hank was getting hungry himself. And he was cold in that water. And -the fish was nibbling at him. And he was getting cussed out and weak and -soaked full of despair. And they wasn't no way fur him to set down and -rest. And he was scared of getting a cramp in his legs, and sinking down -with his head under water and being drownded. He said afterward he'd of -done the last with pleasure if they was any way of suing that crowd fur -murder. So along about ten o'clock he sings out: - -"I give in, gosh dern ye! I give in. Let me out and I'll sign your pesky -pledge!" - -Brother Cartwright was fur getting a ladder and letting him climb out -right away. But Elmira, she says: - -"Don't you do it, Brother Cartwright; don't you do it. You don't know -Hank Walters like I does. If he oncet gets out o' there before he's -signed that pledge, he won't never sign it." - -So they fixed it up that Brother Cartwright was to write out a pledge -on the inside leaf of the Bible, and tie the Bible onto a string, and a -lead pencil onto another string, and let the strings down to Hank, -and he was to make his mark, fur he couldn't write, and they was to be -pulled up agin. Hank, he says all right, and they done it. But jest as -Hank was making his mark on the leaf of the book, that preacher done -what I has always thought was a mean trick. He was lying on the floor -with his head and shoulders into that hole as fur as he could, holding -a lantern way down into it, so as Hank could see. And jest as Hank made -that mark he spoke some words over him, and then he says: - -"Now, Henry Walters, I have baptized you, and you are a member of the -church." - -You'd a thought Hank would of broke out cussing agin at being took -unexpected that-a-way, fur he hadn't really agreed to nothing but -signing the pledge. But nary a cuss. He jest says: "Now, you get that -ladder." - -They got it, and he clumb up into the kitchen, dripping and shivering. - -"You went and baptized me in that water?" he asts the preacher. The -preacher says he has. - -"Then," says Hank, "you done a low-down trick on me. You knowed I has -made my brags I never jined no church nor never would jine. You knowed -I was proud of that. You knowed that it was my glory to tell of it, and -that I set a heap of store by it in every way. And now you've went and -took it away from me! You never fought it out fair and square, neither, -man playing to outlast man, like you done with this here pledge, but you -sneaked it in on me when I wasn't looking." - -They was a lot of men in that crowd that thought the preacher had went -too far, and sympathized with Hank. The way he done about that hurt -Brother Cartwright in our town, and they was a split in the church, -because some said it wasn't reg'lar and wasn't binding. He lost his -job after a while and become an evangelist. Which it don't make no -difference what one of them does, nohow. - -But Hank, he always thought he had been baptized reg'lar. And he never -was the same afterward. He had made his life-long brags, and his pride -was broke in that there one pertic'ler spot. And he sorrered and grieved -over it a good 'eal, and got grouchier and grouchier and meaner and -meaner, and lickered oftener, if anything. Signing the pledge couldn't -hold Hank. He was worse in every way after that night in the cistern, -and took to lamming me harder and harder. - - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Well, all the lammings Hank laid on never done me any good. It seemed -like I was jest natcherally cut out to have no success in life, and no -amount of whaling could change it, though Hank, he was faithful. Before -I was twelve years old the hull town had seen it, and they wasn't -nothing else expected of me except not to be any good. - -That had its handy sides to it, too. They was lots of kids there that -had to go to school, but Hank, he never would of let me done that if I -had ast him, and I never asted. And they was lots of kids considerably -bothered all the time with their parents and relations. They made 'em go -to Sunday School, and wash up reg'lar all over on Saturday nights, and -put on shoes and stockings part of the time, even in the summer, and -some of 'em had to ast to go in swimming, and the hull thing was -a continuous trouble and privation to 'em. But they wasn't nothing -perdicted of me, and I done like it was perdicted. Everybody 'lowed -from the start that Hank would of made trash out'n me, even if I hadn't -showed all the signs of being trash anyhow. And if they was devilment -anywhere about that town they all says, "Danny, he done it." And like as -not I has. So I gets to be what you might call an outcast. All the kids -whose folks ain't trash, their mothers tells 'em not to run with me no -more. Which they done it all the more fur that reason, on the sly, and -it makes me more important with them. - -But when I gets a little bigger, all that makes me feel kind o' bad -sometimes. It ain't so handy then. Fur folks gets to saying, when I -would come around: - -"Danny, what do _you_ want?" - -And if I says, "Nothing," they would say: - -"Well, then, you get out o' here!" - -Which they needn't of been suspicioning nothing like they pertended they -did, fur I never stole nothing more'n worter millions and mush millions -and such truck, and mebby now and then a chicken us kids use to roast in -the woods on Sundays, and jest as like as not it was one of Hank's hens -then, which I figgered I'd earnt it. - -Fur Hank, he had streaks when he'd work me considerable hard. He never -give me any money fur it. He loafed a lot too, and when he'd loaf I'd -loaf. But I did pick up right smart of handiness with tools around that -there shop of his'n, and if he'd ever of used me right I might of turned -into a purty fair blacksmith. But it wasn't no use trying to work fur -Hank. When I was about fifteen, times is right bad around the house fur -a spell, and Elmira is working purty hard, and I thinks to myself: - -"Well, these folks has kind o' brung you up, and you ain't never done -more'n Hank made you do. Mebby you orter stick to work a little more -when they's a job in the shop, even if Hank don't." - -Which I tried it fur about two or three years, doing as much work around -the shop as Hank done and mebby more. But it wasn't no use. One day -when I'm about eighteen, I seen awful plain I'll have to light out from -there. They was a circus come to town that day. I says to Hank: - -"Hank, they is a circus this afternoon and agin to-night." - -"So I has hearn," says Hank. - -"Are you going to it?" says I. - -"I mout," says Hank, "and then agin I moutn't. I don't see as it's no -consarns of yourn, nohow." I knowed he was going, though. Hank, he never -missed a circus. - -"Well," I says, "they wasn't no harm to ast, was they?" - -"Well, you've asted, ain't you?" says Hank. - -"Well, then," says I, "I'd like to go to that there circus myself." - -"They ain't no use in me saying fur you not to go," says Hank, "fur you -would go anyhow. You always does go off when you is needed." - -"But I ain't got no money," I says, "and I was going to ast you could -you spare me half a dollar?" - -"Great Jehosephat!" says Hank, "but ain't you getting stuck up! What's -the matter of you crawling in under the tent like you always done? First -thing I know you'll be wanting a pair of these here yaller shoes and a -stove-pipe hat." - -"No," says I, "I ain't no dude, Hank, and you know it. But they is -always things about a circus to spend money on besides jest the circus -herself. They is the side show, fur instance, and they is the grand -concert afterward. I calkelated I'd take 'em all in this year--the hull -dern thing, jest fur oncet." - -Hank, he looks at me like I'd asted fur a house 'n' lot, or a million -dollars, or something like that. But he don't say nothing. He jest -snorts. - -"Hank," I says, "I been doing right smart work around the shop fur two, -three years now. If you wasn't loafing so much you'd a noticed it more. -And I ain't never ast fur a cent of pay fur it, nor--" - -"You ain't wuth no pay," says Hank. "You ain't wuth nothing but to eat -vittles and wear out clothes." - -"Well," I says, "I figger I earn my vittles and a good 'eal more. And as -fur as clothes goes, I never had none but what Elmira made out'n yourn." - -"Who brung you up?" asts Hank. - -"You done it," says I, "and by your own say-so you done a dern poor job -at it." - -"You go to that there circus," says Hank, a-flaring up, "and I'll -lambaste you up to a inch of your life. So fur as handing out money fur -you to sling it to the dogs, I ain't no bank, and if I was I ain't no -ijut. But you jest let me hear of you even going nigh that circus lot -and all the lammings you has ever got, rolled into one, won't be -a measly little sarcumstance to what you _will_ get. They ain't no -leather-faced young upstart with weepin'-willow hail going to throw up -to me how I brung him up. That's gratitood fur you, that is!" says Hank. -"If it hadn't of been fur me giving you a home when I found you first, -where would you of been now?" - -"Well," I says, "I might of been a good 'eal better off. If you hadn't -of took me in the Alexanderses would of, and then I wouldn't of been -kep' out of school and growed up a ignoramus like you is." - -"I never had no trouble keeping you away from school, I notice," says -Hank, with a snort. "This is the first I ever hearn of you wanting to go -there." - -Which was true in one way, and a lie in another. I hadn't never wanted -to go till lately, but he'd of lammed me if I had of wanted to. He -always said he would. And now I was too big and knowed it. - -Well, Hank, he never give me no money, so I watches my chancet that -afternoon and slips in under the tent the same as always. And I lays low -under them green benches and wiggled through when I seen a good chancet. -The first person I seen was Hank. Of course he seen me, and he shook -his fist at me in a promising kind of way, and they wasn't no trouble -figgering out what he meant. Fur a while I didn't enjoy that circus to -no extent. Fur I was thinking that if Hank tries to lick me fur it I'll -fight him back this time, which I hadn't never fit him back much yet fur -fear he'd pick up something iron around the shop and jest natcherally -lay me cold with it. - -I got home before Hank did. It was nigh sundown, and I was waiting in -the door of the shop fur Elmira to holler vittles is ready, and Hank -come along. He didn't waste no time. He steps inside the shop and he -takes down a strap and he says: - -"You come here and take off your shirt." - -But I jest moves away. Hank, he runs in on me, and he swings his strap. -I throwed up my arm, and it cut me acrost the knuckles. I run in on him, -and he dropped the strap and fetched me an openhanded smack plumb on the -mouth that jarred my head back and like to of busted it loose. Then I -got right mad, and I run in on him agin, and this time I got to him, and -wrastled with him. - -Well, sir, I never was so surprised in all my life before. Fur I hadn't -had holt on him more'n a minute before I seen I'm stronger than Hank -is. I throwed him, and he hit the ground with considerable of a jar, and -then I put my knee in the pit of his stomach and churned it a couple. -And I thinks to myself what a fool I must of been fur better'n a year, -because I might of done this any time. I got him by the ears and I -slammed his head into the gravel a few times, him a-reaching fur my -throat, and a-pounding me with his fists, but me a-taking the licks and -keeping holt. And I had a mighty contented time fur a few minutes there -on top of Hank, chuckling to myself, and batting him one every now and -then fur luck, and trying to make him holler it's enough. But Hank is -stubborn and he won't holler. And purty soon I thinks, what am I going -to do? Fur Hank will be so mad when I let him up he'll jest natcherally -kill me, without I kill him. And I was scared, because I don't want -neither one of them things to happen. Whilst I was thinking it over, -and getting scareder and scareder, and banging Hank's head harder and -harder, some one grabs me from behind. - -They was two of them, and one gets my collar and one gets the seat of -my pants, and they drug me off'n him. Hank, he gets up, and then he sets -down sudden on a horse block and wipes his face on his sleeve, which -they was considerable blood come onto the sleeve. - -I looks around to see who has had holt of me, and it is two men. One -of them looks about seven feet tall, on account of a big plug hat and a -long white linen duster, and has a beautiful red beard. In the road -they is a big stout road wagon, with a canopy top over it, pulled by two -hosses, and on the wagon box they is a strip of canvas. Which I couldn't -read then what was wrote on the canvas, but I learnt later it said, in -big print: - -SIWASH INDIAN SAGRAW. NATURE'S UNIVERSAL MEDICINAL SPECIFIC. DISCOVERED -BY DR. HARTLEY L. KIRBY AMONG THE ABORIGINES OF OREGON. - - -On account of being so busy, neither Hank nor me had hearn the wagon -come along the road and stop. The big man in the plug hat, he says, or -they was words to that effect, jest as serious: - -"Why are you mauling the aged gent?" - -"Well," says I, "he needed it considerable." - -"But," says he, still more solemn, "the good book says to honour thy -father and thy mother." - -"Well," I says, "mebby it does and mebby it don't. But _he_ ain't my -father, nohow. And he ain't been getting no more'n his come-uppings." - -"Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord," the big man remarks, very serious. -Hank, he riz up then, and he says: - -"Mister, be you a preacher? 'Cause if you be, the sooner you have druv -on, the better fur ye. I got a grudge agin all preachers." - -That feller, he jest looks Hank over ca'am and easy and slow before he -answers, and he wrinkles up his face like he never seen anything like -Hank before. Then he fetches a kind o' aggervating smile, and he says: - - -"Beneath a shady chestnut tree The village blacksmith stands. -The smith, a pleasant soul is he With warts upon his hands--" - - - -He stares at Hank hard and solemn and serious while he is saying that -poetry at him. Hank fidgets and turns his eyes away. But the feller -touches him on the breast with his finger, and makes him look at him. - -"My honest friend," says the feller, "I am _not_ a preacher. Not right -now, anyhow. No! My mission is spreading the glad tidings of good -health. Look at me," and he swells his chest up, and keeps a-holt -of Hank's eyes with his'n. "You behold before you the discoverer, -manufacturer, and proprietor of Siwash Indian Sagraw, nature's own -remedy for Bright's Disease, rheumatism, liver and kidney trouble, -catarrh, consumption, bronchitis, ring-worm, erysipelas, lung fever, -typhoid, croup, dandruff, stomach trouble, dyspepsia--" And they was a -lot more of 'em. - -"Well," says Hank, sort o' backing up as the big man come nearer and -nearer to him, jest natcherally bully-ragging him with them eyes, "I got -none of them there complaints." - -The doctor he kind o' snarls, and he brings his hand down hard on Hank's -shoulder, and he says: - -"There are more things betwixt Dan and Beersheba than was ever dreamt -of in thy sagacity, Romeo!" Or they was words to that effect, fur that -doctor was jest plumb full of Scripter quotations. And he sings out -sudden, giving Hank a shove that nearly pushes him over: "Man alive!" he -yells, "you _don't know_ what disease you may have! Many's the strong man -I've seen rejoicing in his strength at the dawn of day cut down like the -grass in the field before sunset," he says. - -Hank, he's trying to look the other way, but that doctor won't let his -eyes wiggle away from his'n. He says very sharp: - -"Stick out your tongue!" - -[Illustration: 0061] - -Hank, he sticks her out. - -The doctor, he takes some glasses out'n his pocket and puts 'em on, and -he fetches a long look at her. Then he opens his mouth like he was going -to say something, and shuts it agin like his feelings won't let him. He -puts his arm across Hank's shoulder affectionate and sad, and then he -turns his head away like they was some one dead in the fambly. Finally, -he says: - -"I thought so. I saw it. I saw it in your eyes when I first drove up. I -hope," he says, very mournful, "I haven't come too late!" - -Hank, he turns pale. I was getting sorry fur Hank myself. I seen now why -I licked him so easy. Any one could of told from that doctor's actions -Hank was as good as a dead man already. But Hank, he makes a big effort, -and he says: - -"Shucks! I'm sixty-eight years old, doctor, and I hain't never had a -sick day in my life." But he was awful uneasy too. - -The doctor, he says to the feller with him: "Looey, bring me one of the -sample size." - -Looey brung it, the doctor never taking his eyes off'n Hank. He handed -it to Hank, and he says: - -"A whiskey glass full three times a day, my friend, and there is a good -chance for even you. I give it to you, without money and without price." - -"But what have I got?" asts Hank. - -"You have spinal meningitis," says the doctor, never batting an eye. - -"Will this here cure me?" says Hank. - -"It'll cure _anything_," says the doctor. - -Hank he says, "Shucks," agin, but he took the bottle and pulled the cork -out and smelt it, right thoughtful. And what them fellers had stopped -at our place fur was to have the shoe of the nigh hoss's off hind foot -nailed on, which it was most ready to drop off. Hank, he done it fur a -regulation, dollar-size bottle and they druv on into the village. - -Right after supper I goes down town. They was in front of Smith's Palace -Hotel. They was jest starting up when I got there. Well, sir, that -doctor was a sight. He didn't have his duster onto him, but his -stove-pipe hat was, and one of them long Prince Alferd coats nearly to -his knees, and shiny shoes, but his vest was cut out holler fur to show -his biled shirt, and it was the pinkest shirt I ever see, and in the -middle of that they was a diamond as big as Uncle Pat Hickey's wen, -what was one of the town sights. No, sir; they never was a man with more -genuine fashionableness sticking out all over him than Doctor Kirby. He -jest fairly wallered in it. - -I hadn't paid no pertic'ler attention to the other feller with him when -they stopped at our place, excepting to notice he was kind of slim -and blackhaired and funny complected. But I seen now I orter of looked -closeter. Fur I'll be dad-binged if he weren't an Injun! There he set, -under that there gasoline lamp the wagon was all lit up with, with -moccasins on, and beads and shells all over him, and the gaudiest turkey -tail of feathers rainbowing down from his head you ever see, and a -blanket around him that was gaudier than the feathers. And he shined and -rattled every time he moved. - -That wagon was a hull opry house to itself. It was rolled out in front -of Smith's Palace Hotel without the hosses. The front part was filled -with bottles of medicine. The doctor, he begun business by taking out a -long brass horn and tooting on it. They was about a dozen come, but they -was mostly boys. Then him and the Injun picked up some banjoes and sung -a comic song out loud and clear. And they was another dozen or so -come. And they sung another song, and Pop Wilkins, he closed up the -post-office and come over and the other two veterans of the Grand Army -of the Republicans that always plays checkers in there nights come along -with him. But it wasn't much of a crowd, and the doctor he looked sort -o' worried. I had a good place, right near the hind wheel of the wagon -where he rested his foot occasional, and I seen what he was thinking. So -I says to him: - -"Doctor Kirby, I guess the crowd is all gone to the circus agin -to-night." And all them fellers there seen I knowed him. - -"I guess so, Rube," he says to me. And they all laughed 'cause he called -me Rube, and I felt kind of took down. - -Then he lit in to tell about that Injun medicine. First off he told how -he come to find out about it. It was the father of the Injun what -was with him had showed him, he said. And it was in the days of his -youthfulness, when he was wild, and a cowboy on the plains of Oregon. -Well, one night he says, they was an awful fight on the plains of -Oregon, wherever them is, and he got plugged full of bullet holes. And -his hoss run away with him and he was carried off, and the hoss was -going at a dead run, and the blood was running down onto the ground. And -the wolves smelt the blood and took out after him, yipping and yowling -something frightful to hear, and the hoss he kicked out behind and -killed the head wolf and the others stopped to eat him up, and while -they was eating him the hoss gained a quarter of a mile. But they et him -up and they was gaining agin, fur the smell of human blood was on the -plains of Oregon, he says, and the sight of his mother's face when she -ast him never to be a cowboy come to him in the moonlight, and he knowed -that somehow all would yet be well, and then he must of fainted and he -knowed no more till he woke up in a tent on the plains of Oregon. And -they was an old Injun bending over him and a beautiful Injun maiden was -feeling of his pulse, and they says to him: - -"Pale face, take hope, fur we will doctor you with Siwash Injun Sagraw, -which is nature's own cure fur all diseases." - -They done it. And he got well. It had been a secret among them there -Injuns fur thousands and thousands of years. Any Injun that give away -the secret was killed and rubbed off the rolls of the tribe and buried -in disgrace upon the plains of Oregon. And the doctor was made a blood -brother of the chief, and learnt the secret of that medicine. Finally -he got the chief to see as it wasn't Christian to hold back that -there medicine from the world no longer, and the chief, his heart was -softened, and he says to go. - -"Go, my brother," he says, "and give to the pale faces the medicine -that has been kept secret fur thousands and thousands of years among the -Siwash Injuns on the plains of Oregon." - -And he went. It wasn't that he wanted to make no money out of that there -medicine. He could of made all the money he wanted being a doctor in the -reg'lar way. But what he wanted was to spread the glad tidings of good -health all over this fair land of ourn, he says. - -Well, sir, he was a talker, that there doctor was, and he knowed more -religious sayings and poetry along with it, than any feller I ever -hearn. He goes on and he tells how awful sick people can manage to get -and never know it, and no one else never suspicion it, and live along -fur years and years that-a-way, and all the time in danger of death. He -says it makes him weep when he sees them poor diluted fools going around -and thinking they is well men, talking and laughing and marrying and -giving in to marriage right on the edge of the grave. He sees dozens of -'em in every town he comes to. But they can't fool him, he says. He can -tell at a glance who's got Bright's Disease in their kidneys and who -ain't. His own father, he says, was deathly sick fur years and years and -never knowed it, and the knowledge come on him sudden like, and he died. -That was before Siwash Injun Sagraw was ever found out about. Doctor -Kirby broke down and cried right there in the wagon when he thought of -how his father might of been saved if he was only alive now that that -medicine was put up into bottle form, six fur a five-dollar bill so long -as he was in town, and after that two dollars fur each bottle at the -drug store. - -He unrolled a big chart and the Injun helt it by that there gasoline -lamp, so all could see, turning the pages now and then. It was a map of -a man's inside organs and digestive ornaments and things. They was red -and blue, like each organ's own disease had turned it, and some of 'em -was yaller. And they was a long string of diseases printed in black -hanging down from each organ's picture. I never knowed before they was -so many diseases nor yet so many things to have 'em in. - -Well, I was feeling purty good when that show started. But the doc, -he kep' looking right at me every now and then when he talked, and I -couldn't keep my eyes off'n him. - -"Does your heart beat fast when you exercise?" he asts the crowd. "Is -your tongue coated after meals? Do your eyes leak when your nose is -stopped up? Do you perspire under your arm pits? Do you ever have a -ringing in your ears? Does your stomach hurt you after meals? Does your -back ever ache? Do you ever have pains in your legs? Do your eyes blur -when you look at the sun? Are your teeth coated? Does your hair come out -when you comb it? Is your breath short when you walk up stairs? Do your -feet swell in warm weather? Are there white spots on your finger nails? -Do you draw your breath part of the time through one nostril and part -of the time through the other? Do you ever have nightmare? Did your -nose bleed easily when you were growing up? Does your skin fester when -scratched? Are your eyes gummy in the mornings? Then," he says, "if you -have any or all of these symptoms, your blood is bad, and your liver is -wasting away." - -Well, sir, I seen I was in a bad way, fur at one time or another I had -had most of them there signs and warnings, and hadn't heeded 'em, and I -had some of 'em yet. I begun to feel kind o' sick, and looking at them -organs and diseases didn't help me none, either. The doctor, he lit out -on another string of symptoms, and I had them, too. Seems to me I had -purty nigh everything but fits. Kidney complaint and consumption both -had a holt on me. It was about a even bet which would get me first. I -kind o' got to wondering which. I figgered from what he said that I'd -had consumption the _longest_ while, but my kind of kidney trouble was an -awful SLY kind, and it was lible to jump in without no warning a-tall -and jest natcherally wipe me out _quick_. So I sort o' bet on the -kidney trouble. But I seen I was a goner, and I forgive Hank all his -orneriness, fur a feller don't want to die holding grudges. - -Taking it the hull way through, that was about the best medicine show I -ever seen. But they didn't sell much. All the people what had any money -was to the circus agin that night. So they sung some more songs and -closed early and went into the hotel. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Well, the next morning I'm feeling considerable better, and think mebby -I'm going to live after all. I got up earlier'n Hank did, and slipped -out without him seeing me, and didn't go nigh the shop a-tall. Fur now -I've licked Hank oncet I figger he won't rest till he has wiped that -disgrace out, and he won't care a dern what he picks up to do it with, -nuther. - -They was a crick about a hundred yards from our house, in the woods, -and I went over there and laid down and watched it run by. I laid awful -still, thinking I wisht I was away from that town. Purty soon a squirrel -comes down and sets on a log and watches me. I throwed an acorn at him, -and he scooted up a tree quicker'n scatt. And then I wisht I hadn't -scared him away, fur it looked like he knowed I was in trouble. Purty -soon I takes a swim, and comes out and lays there some more, spitting -into the water and thinking what shall I do now, and watching birds and -things moving around, and ants working harder'n ever I would agin unless -I got better pray fur it, and these here tumble bugs kicking their loads -along hind end to. - -After a while it is getting along toward noon, and I'm feeling hungry. -But I don't want to have no more trouble with Hank, and I jest lays -there. I hearn two men coming through the underbrush. I riz up on my -elbow to look, and one of them was Doctor Kirby and the other was Looey, -only Looey wasn't an Injun this morning. - -They sets down on the roots of a big tree a little ways off, with their -backs toward me, and they ain't seen me. So nacherally I listened to -what they was jawing about. They was both kind o' mad at the hull world, -and at our town in pertic'ler, and some at each other, too. The doctor, -he says: - -"I haven't had such rotten luck since I played the bloodhound in a Tom -Show--Were you ever an 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' artist, Looey?--and a justice -of the peace over in Iowa fined me five dollars for being on the street -without a muzzle. Said it was a city ordinance. Talk about the gentle -Rube being an easy mark! If these country towns don't get the wandering -minstrel's money one way they will another!" - -"It's your own fault," says Looey, kind o' sour. - -"I can't see it," says Doctor Kirby. "How did I know that all these -apple-knockers had been filled up with Sykes's Magic Remedy only two -weeks ago? I may have been a spiritualistic medium in my time now and -then," he says, "and a mind reader, too, but I'm no prophet." - -"I ain't talking about the business, Doc, and you know it," says Looey. -"We'd be all right and have our horses and wagon now if you'd only stuck -to business and not got us into that poker game. Talk about suckers! -Doc, for a man that has skinned as many of 'em as you have, you're the -worst sucker yourself I ever saw." - -The doctor, he cusses the poker game and country towns and medicine -shows and the hull creation and says he is so disgusted with life he -guesses he'll go and be a preacher or a bearded lady in a sideshow. But -Looey, he don't cheer up none. He says: - -"All right, Doc, but it's no use talking. You can _talk_ all right. We all -know that. The question is how are we going to get our horses and wagon -away from these Rubes?" - -I listens some more, and I seen them fellers was really into bad -trouble. Doctor Kirby, he had got into a poker game at Smith's Palace -Hotel the night before, right after the show. He had won from Jake -Smith, which run it, and from the others. But shucks! it never made no -difference what you won in that crowd. They had done Doctor Kirby and -Looey like they always done a drummer or a stranger that come along to -that town and was fool enough to play poker with them. They wasn't a -chancet fur an outsider. If the drummer lost, they would take his money -and that would be all they was to it. But if the drummer got to winning -good, some one would slip out'n the hotel and tell Si Emery, which was -the city marshal. And Si would get Ralph Scott, that worked fur Jake -Smith in his livery stable, and pin a star onto Ralph, too. And they -would be arrested fur gambling, only them that lived in our town would -get away. Which Si and Ralph was always scared every time they done it. -Then the drummer, or whoever it was, would be took to the calaboose, and -spend all night there. - -[Illustration: 0077] - -In the morning they would be took before Squire Matthews, that was -justice of the peace. They would be fined a big fine, and he would get -all the drummer had won and all he had brung to town with him besides. -Squire Matthews and Jake Smith and Windy Goodell and Mart Watson, which -the two last was lawyers, was always playing that there game on drummers -that was fool enough to play poker. Hank, he says he bet they divided it -up afterward, though it was supposed them fines went to the town. Well, -they played a purty closte game of poker in our little town. It was jest -like the doctor says to Looey: - -"By George," he says, "it is a well-nigh perfect thing. If you lose you -lose, and if you win you lose." - -Well, the doctor, he had started out winning the night before. And Si -Emery and Ralph Scott had arrested them. And that morning, while I had -been laying by the crick and the rest of the town was seeing the fun, -they had been took afore Squire Matthews and fined one hundred and -twenty-five dollars apiece. The doctor, he tells Squire Matthews it -is an outrage, and it ain't legal if tried in a bigger court, and they -ain't that much money in the world so fur as he knows, and he won't pay -it. But, the squire, he says the time has come to teach them travelling -fakirs as is always running around the country with shows and electric -belts and things that they got to stop dreening that town of hard-earned -money, and he has decided to make an example of 'em. The only two -lawyers in town is Windy and Mart, which has been in the poker game -theirselves, the same as always. The doctor says the hull thing is a -put-up job, and he can't get the money, and he wouldn't if he could, and -he'll lay in that town calaboose and rot the rest of his life and eat -the town poor before he'll stand it. And the squire says he'll jest take -their hosses and wagon fur c'latteral till they make up the rest of the -two hundred and fifty dollars. And the hosses and wagon was now in the -livery stable next to Smith's Palace Hotel, which Jake run that too. - -Well, I thinks to myself, it _is_ a dern shame, and I felt sorry fur them -two fellers. Fur our town was jest as good as stealing that property. -And I felt kind o' shamed of belonging to such a town, too. And I thinks -to myself, I'd like to help 'em out of that scrape. And then I seen -how I could do it, and not get took up fur it, neither. So, without -thinking, all of a sudden I jumps up and says: - -"Say, Doctor Kirby, I got a scheme!" - -They jumps up too, and they looks at me startled. Then the doctor kind -o' laughs and says: - -"Why, it's the young blacksmith!" - -Looey, he says, looking at me hard and suspicious: - -"What kind of a scheme are you talking about?" - -"Why," says I, "to get that outfit of yourn." - -"You've been listening to us," says Looey. Looey was one of them -quiet-looking fellers that never laughed much nor talked much. Looey, -he never made fun of nobody, which the doctor was always doing, and I -wouldn't of cared to make fun of Looey much, either. - -"Yes," I says, "I been laying here fur quite a spell, and quite -natcheral I listened to you, as any one else would of done. And mebby I -can get that team and wagon of yourn without it costing you a cent." - -Well, they didn't know what to say. They asts me how, but I says to -leave it all to me. "Walk right along down this here crick," I says, -"till you get to where it comes out'n the woods and runs acrost the road -in under an iron bridge. That's about a half a mile east. Jest after the -road crosses the bridge it forks. Take the right fork and walk another -half a mile and you'll see a little yaller-painted schoolhouse setting -lonesome on a sand hill. They ain't no school in it now. You wait there -fur me," I says, "fur a couple of hours. After that if I ain't there -you'll know I can't make it. But I think I'll make it." - -They looks at each other and they looks at me, and then they go off a -little piece and talk low, and then the doctor says to me: - -"Rube," he says, "I don't know how you can work anything on us that -hasn't been worked already. We've got nothing more we can lose. You go -to it, Rube." And they started off. - -So I went over town. Jake Smith was setting on the piazza in front of -his hotel, chawing and spitting tobacco, with his feet agin the railing -like he always done, and one of his eyes squinched up and his hat over -the other one. - -"Jake," I says, "where's that there doctor?" - -Jake, he spit careful afore he answered, and he pulled his long, -scraggly moustache careful, and he squinched his eyes at me. Jake was a -careful man in everything he done. - -"I dunno, Danny," he says. "Why?" - -"Well," I says, "Hank sent me over to get that wagon and them hosses of -theirn and finish that job." - -"That there wagon," says Jake, "is in my barn, with Si Emery watching -her, and she has got to stay there till the law lets her loose." I -figgered to myself Jake could use that team and wagon in his business, -and was going to buy her cheap offn the town, what share of her he -didn't figger he owned already. - -"Why, Jake," I says, "I hope they ain't been no trouble of no kind that -has drug the law into your barn!" - -"Well, Danny," he says, "they _has_ been a little trouble. But it's about -over, now, I guess. And that there outfit belongs to the town now." - -"You don't say so!" says I, surprised-like. "When I seen them men last -night it looked to me like they was too fine dressed to be honest." - -"I don't think they be, Danny," says Jake, confidential. "In my opinion -they is mighty bad customers. But they has got on the wrong side of the -law now, and I guess they won't stay around here much longer." - -"Well," says I, "Hank will be glad." - -"Fur what?" asts Jake. - -"Well," says I, "because he got his pay in advance fur that job and now -he don't have to finish it. They come along to our place about sundown -yesterday, and we nailed a shoe on one hoss. They was a couple of -other hoofs needed fixing, and the tire on one of the hind wheels was -beginning to rattle loose." - -I had noticed that loose tire when I was standing by the hind wheel the -night before, and it come in handy now. So I goes on: - -"Hank, he allowed he'd fix the hull thing fur six bottles of that Injun -medicine. Elmira has been ailing lately, and he wanted it fur her. So -they handed Hank out six bottles then and there." - -"Huh!" says Jake. "So the job is all paid fur, is it?" - -"Yes," says I, "and I was expecting to do it myself. But now I guess -I'll go fishing instead. They ain't no other job in the shop." - -"I'll be dinged if you've got time to fish," says Jake. "I'm expecting -mebby to buy that rig off the town myself when the law lets loose of it. -So if the fixing is paid fur, I want everything fixed." - -"Jake," says I, kind of worried like, "I don't want to do it without -that doctor says to go ahead." - -"They ain't his'n no longer," says Jake. - -"I dunno," says I, "as you got any right to make me do it, Jake. It -don't look to me like it's no harm to beat a couple of fellers like them -out of their medicine. And I _did_ want to go fishing this afternoon." - -But Jake was that careful and stingy he'd try to skin a hoss twicet if -it died. He's bound to get that job done, now. - -"Danny," he says, "you gotto do that work. It ain't _honest_ not to. What -a young feller like you jest starting out into life wants to remember is -to always be honest. Then," says Jake, squinching up his eyes, "people -trusts you and you get a good chancet to make money. Look at this here -hotel and livery stable, Danny. Twenty years ago I didn't have no more'n -you've got, Danny. But I always went by them mottoes--hard work and -being honest. You _gotto_ nail them shoes on, Danny, and fix that wheel." - -"Well, all right, Jake," says I, "if you feel that way about it. Jest -give me a chaw of tobacco and come around and help me hitch 'em up." - -Si Emery was there asleep on a pile of straw guarding that property. But -Ralph Scott wasn't around. Si didn't wake up till we had hitched 'em up. -He says he will ride around to the shop with me. But Jake says: - -"It's all right, Si. I'll go over myself and fetch 'em back purty soon." -Which Si was wore out with being up so late the night before, and goes -back to sleep agin right off. - -Well, sir, they wasn't nothing went wrong. I drove slow through the -village and past our shop. Hank come to the door of it as I went past. -But I hit them hosses a lick, and they broke into a right smart trot. -Elmira, she come onto the porch and I waved my hand at her. She put her -hand up to her forehead to shut out the sun and jest stared. She didn't -know I was waving her farewell. Hank, he yelled something at me, but I -never hearn what. I licked them hosses into a gallop and went around the -turn of the road. And that's the last I ever seen or hearn of Hank or -Elmira or that there little town. - - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -I slowed down when I got to the schoolhouse, and both them fellers piled -in. - -"I guess I better turn north fur about a mile and then turn west, Doctor -Kirby," I says, "so as to make a kind of a circle around that town." - -"Why, so, Rube?" he asts me. - -"Well," I says, "we left it going east, and they'll foller us east; so -don't we want to be going west while they're follering east?" - -Looey, he agreed with me. But he said it wouldn't be much use, fur we -would likely be ketched up with and took back and hung or something, -anyhow. Looey could get the lowest in his sperrits sometimes of any man -I ever seen. - -"Don't be afraid of that," says the doctor. "They are not going to -follow us. _They_ know they didn't get this property by due process of -law. _They_ aren't going to take the case into a county court where it -will all come out about the way they robbed a couple of travelling men -with a fake trial." - -"I guess you know more about the law'n I do," I says. "I kind o' thought -mebby we stole them hosses." - -"Well," he says, "we got 'em, anyhow. And if they try to arrest us -without a warrant there'll be the deuce to pay. But they aren't going -to make any more trouble. I know these country crooks. They've got no -stomach for trouble outside their own township." - -Which made me feel considerable better, fur I never been of the opinion -that going agin the law done any one no good. - -They looks around in that wagon, and all their stuff was there--Jake -Smith and the squire having kep' it all together careful to make things -seem more legal, I suppose--and the doctor was plumb tickled, and Looey -felt as cheerful as he ever felt about anything. So the doctor says they -has everything they needs but some ready money, and he'll get that sure, -fur he never seen the time he couldn't. - -"But, Looey," he says, "I'm done with country hotels from now on. -They've got the last cent they ever will from me--at least in the summer -time." - -"How you going to work it?" Looey asts him, like he hasn't no hopes it -will work right. - -"Camp out," says the doctor. "I've been thinking it all over." Then he -turns to me. "Rube," he says, "where are you going?" - -"Well," I says, "I ain't pinted nowhere in pertic'ler except away from -that town we just left. Which my name ain't Rube, Doctor Kirby, but -Danny." - -"Danny what?" asts he. - -"Nothing," says I, "jest Danny." - -"Well, then, Danny," says he, "how would you like to be an Indian?" - -"Medical?" asts I, "or real?" - -"Like Looey," says he. - -I tells him being a medical Injun and mixed up with a show like his'n -would suit me down to the ground, and asts him what is the main duties -of one besides the blankets and the feathers. - -"Well," he says, "this camping-out scheme of mine will take a couple of -Indians. Instead of paying hotel and feed bills we'll pitch our tent," -he says, "at the edge of town in each sweet Auburn of the plains. We'll -save money and we'll be near the throbbing heart of nature. And an -Indian camp in each place will be a good advertisement for the Sagraw. -You can look after the horses and learn to do the cooking and that kind -o' thing. And maybe after while," he says, kind o' working himself up to -where he thought it was going to be real nice, "maybe after while I will -give you some insight into the hidden mysteries of selling Siwash Indian -Sagraw." - -"Well," says I, "I'd like to learn that." - -"Would you?" says he, kind o' laughing at himself and me too, and yet -kind o' enthusiastic, "well, then, the first thing you have to do is -learn how to sell corn salve. Any one that can sell corn salve can sell -anything. There's a farmhouse right over there, and I'll give you your -first lesson right now. Rummage around in that satchel there under the -seat and get me a tin box and some corn salve labels." - -I found a lot of labels, and some boxes too. The labels was all -different sizes, but barring that they all looked about the same to me. -Whilst I was sizing them up he asts me agin was they any corn salve ones -in there. - -"What colour label is it, Doctor Kirby?" I asts him. Fur they was blue -labels and white labels and pink labels. - -He looks at me right queer. "Can't you read the labels?" he says, right -sharp. - -"Well," I says, "I never been much of a reader when it comes to -different kind of medicines." - -"Corn salve is spelled only one way," says he. - -"That's right," I says, "and you'd think I orter be able to pick out a -common, ordinary thing like corn salve right off, wouldn't you?" - -"Danny," he says, "you don't mean to tell me you can't read anything at -all?" - -"I never told you nothing of the kind." - -He picks out a label. - -"If you can read so fast, what's that?" he asts. - -She is a pink one. I thinks to myself; she either is corn salve or else -she ain't corn salve. And it ain't natcheral he will pick corn salve, -fur he would think I would say that first off. So I'm betting it ain't. -I takes a chancet on it. - -"That," says I, "is mighty easy reading. That is Siwash Injun Sagraw." I -lost. - -"It's corn salve," he says. "And Great Scott! They call this the -twentieth century!" - -"I never called it that," says I, sort o' mad-like. Fur I was feeling -bad Doctor Kirby had found out I was such a ignoramus. - -"Where ignorance is bliss," says he, "it is folly to be wise. But all -the same, I'm going to take your education in hand and make you drink of -life's Peruvian springs." Or some spring like that it was. - -And the doctor, he done it. Looey said it wouldn't be no use learning to -read. He'd done a lot of reading, he said, and it never helped him none. -All he ever read showed him this feller Hamlet was right, he said, when -he wrote Shakespeare's works, and they wasn't much use in anything, -without you had a lot o' money. And they wasn't no chancet to get that -with all these here trusts around gobbling up everything and stomping -the poor man into the dirt, and they was lots of times he wisht he was -a Injun sure enough, and not jest a medical one, fur then he'd be a -free man and the bosses and the trusts and the railroads and the robber -tariff couldn't touch him. And then he shut up, and didn't say nothing -fur a hull hour, except oncet he laughed. - -Fur Doctor Kirby, he says, winking at me: "Looey, here, is a nihilist." - -"Is he," says I, "what's that?" And the doctor tells me about how they -blow up dukes and czars and them foreign high-mucky-mucks with dynamite. -Which is when Looey laughed. - -[Illustration: 0091] - -Well, we jogged along at a pretty good gait fur several hours, and we -stayed that night at a Swede's place, which the doctor paid him fur -everything in medicine, only it took a long time to make the bargain, -fur them Swedes is always careful not to get cheated, and hasn't many -diseases. And the next night we showed in a little town, and done right -well, and took in considerable money. We stayed there three days and -bought a tent and a sheet-iron stove and some skillets and things and -some provisions, and a suit of duds for me. - -Well, we went on, and we kept going on, and they was bully times. We'd -ease up careful toward a town, and pick us out a place on the edge, -where the hosses could graze along the side of the road; and most -ginerally by a piece of woods not fur from that town, and nigh a crick, -if we could. Then we'd set up our tent. After we had everything fixed, -I'd put on my Injun clothes and Looey his'n, and we'd drive through the -main store street of the town at a purty good lick, me a-holt of the -reins, and the doctor all togged out in his best clothes, and Looey -doing a Injun dance in the midst of the wagon. I'd pull up the hosses -sudden in front of the post-office or the depot platform or the hotel, -and the people would come crowding around, and the doctor he'd make a -little talk from the wagon, and tell everybody they would be a free show -that night on that corner, and fur everybody to come to it. And then -we'd drive back to camp, lickitysplit. - -Purty soon every boy in town would be out there, kind o' hanging around, -to see what a Injun camp was like. And the farmers that went into and -out of town always stopped and passed the time of day, and the Injun -camp got the hull town all worked up as a usual thing; and the doctor, -he done well, fur when night come every one would be on hand. Looey -and me, every time we went into town, had on our Injun suits, and the -doctor, he wondered why he hadn't never thought up that scheme before. -Sometimes, when they was lots of people ailing in a town, and they -hadn't been no show fur quite a while, we'd stay five or six days, and -make a good clean-up. The doctor, he sent to Chicago several times fur -alcohol in barrels, 'cause he was selling it so fast he had to make new -Sagraw. And he had to get more and more bottles, and a hull satchel full -of new Sagraw labels printed. - -And all the time the doctor was learning me education. And shucks! they -wasn't nothing so hard about it oncet you'd got started in to reading -things. I jest natcherally took to print like a duck to water, and -inside of a month I was reading nigh everything that has ever been -wrote. He had lots of books with him and every time a new sockdologer of -a word come along and I learnt how to spell her and where she orter fit -in to make sense it kind o' tickled me all over. And many's the time -afterward, when me and the doctor had lost track of each other, and they -was quite a spell people got to thinking I was a tramp, I've went into -these here Andrew Carnegie libraries in different towns jest as much to -see if they had anything fitten to read as fur to keep warm. - -Well, we went easing over toward the Indiany line, and we was having a -purty good time. They wasn't no work to do you could call really hard, -and they was plenty of vittles. Afternoons we'd lazy around the camp and -swap stories and make medicine if we needed a batch, and josh back and -forth with the people that hung around, and loaf and doze and smoke; or -mebby do a little fishing if we was nigh a crick. - -And nights after the show was over it was fun, too. We always had a -fire, even if it was a hot night, fur to cook by in the first place, and -fur to keep mosquitoes off, and to make things seem more cheerful. -They ain't nothing so good as hanging round a campfire. And they ain't -nothing any better than sleeping outdoors, neither. You roll up in your -blanket with your feet to the fire and you get to wondering things about -things afore you go to sleep. The silentness jest natcherally swamps -everything after a while, and then all them queer little noises -you never hear in the daytime comes popping and poking through the -silentness, or kind o' scratching their way through it sometimes, and -makes it kind o' feel more silent than ever. And if you are nigh a -crick, purty soon it will sort of get to talking to you, only you can't -make out what it's trying to say, and you get to wondering about that, -too. And if you are in a tent and it rains and the tent don't leak, that -rain is a kind of a nice thing to listen to itself. But if you can see -the stars you get to wondering more'n ever. They come out and they is -so many of them and they are so fur away, and yet they are so kind o' -friendly-like, too, if you happen to be feeling purty good. But if you -ain't feeling purty good, jest lay there and look at them stars long -enough; and then mebby you'll see it don't make no difference whether -you're feeling good or not, fur they got a way o' making your private -troubles look mighty small. And you get to wondering why that is, too, -fur they ain't human; and it don't stand to reason you orter pay no -attention to them, one way nor the other. They is jest there, like trees -and cricks and hills. But I have often noticed that the things that is -jest there has got a way of seeming more friendly than the things that -has been built and put there. You can look at a big iron bridge or a -grain elevator or a canal all day long, and if you're feeling blue it -don't help you none. It was jest put there. Or a hay stack is the same -way. But you go and lazy around in the grass when you're down on your -luck and kind o' make remarks to a crick or a big, old walnut tree, and -before long it gets you to feeling like it didn't make no difference -how you felt, anyhow; fur you don't amount to nothing by the side of -something that was always there. You get to thinking how the hull world -itself was always here, and you sort o' see they ain't nothing important -enough about yourself to worry about, and presently you will go to -sleep and forget it. The doctor says to me one time them stars ain't -any different from this world, and this is one of them. Which is a fool -idea, as any one can see. He had a lot of queer ideas like that, Doctor -Kirby had. But they ain't nothing like sleeping out of doors nights to -make you wonder the kind of wonderings you never will get any answer to. - -Well, I never cared so much fur houses after them days. They was bully -times, them was. And I was kind of proud of being with a show, too. -Many's the time I have went down the street in that there Injun suit, -and seen how the young fellers would of give all they owned to be me. -And every now and then you would hear one say when you went past: - -"Huh, I know him! That's one of them show fellers!" - -One afternoon we pitches our tent right on the edge of a little town -called Athens. We was nigh the bank of a crick, and they was a grove -there. We was camped jest outside of a wood-lot fence, and back in -through the trees from us they was a house with a hedge fence all around -it. They was apple trees and all kind of flower bushes and things inside -of the hedge. The second day we was there I takes a walk back through -the wood-lot, and along past the house, and they was one of these here -early harvest apple trees spilling apples through a gap in the fence. -Them is a mighty sweet and juicy kind of apple, and I picks one up and -bites into it. - -"I think you might have asked for it," says some one. - - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -I looks up, and that was how I got acquainted with Martha. She was -eating one herself, setting up in the tree like a boy. In her lap was a -book she had been reading. She was leaning back into the fork two limbs -made so as not to tumble. - -"Well," I says, "can I have one?" - -"You've eaten it already," she says, "so there isn't any use begging for -it now." - -I seen she was a tease, that girl, and I would of give anything to of -been able to tease her right back agin. But I couldn't think of nothing -to say, so I jest stands there kind o' dumb like, thinking what a dern -purty girl she was, and thinking how dumb I must look, and I felt my -face getting red. Doctor Kirby would of thought of something to say -right off. And after I got back to camp I would think of something -myself. But I couldn't think of nothing bright, so I says: - -"Well, then, you give me another one!" - -She gives the core of the one she has been eating a toss at me. But I -ketched it, and made like I was going to throw it back at her real hard. -She slung up her arm, and dodged back, and she dropped her book. - -I thinks to myself I'll learn that girl to get sassy and make me feel -like a dumb-head, even if she is purty. So I don't say a word. I jest -picks up that book and sticks it under my arm and walks away slow with -it to where they was a stump a little ways off, not fur from the crick, -and sets down with my back to her and opens it. And I was trying all the -time to think of something smart to say to her. But I couldn't of done -it if I was to be shot. Still, I thinks to myself, no girl can sass me -and not get sassed back, neither. - -I hearn a scramble behind me which I knowed was her getting out of that -tree. And in a minute she was in front of me, mad. - -"Give me my book," she says. - -But I only reads the name of the book out loud, fur to aggervate her. I -had on purty good duds, but I kind of wisht I had on my Injun rig then. -You take the girls that always comes down to see the passenger train -come into the depot in them country towns and that Injun rig of mine and -Looey's always made 'em turn around and look at us agin. I never wisht -I had on them Injun duds so hard before in my life. But I couldn't think -of nothing bright to say, so I jest reads the name of that book over to -myself agin, kind o' grinning like I got a good joke I ain't going to -tell any one. - -"You give me my book," she says agin, red as one of them harvest apples, -"or I'll tell Miss Hampton you stole it and she'll have you and your -show arrested." - -I reads the name agin. It was "The Lost Heir." I seen I had her good and -teased now, so I says: "It must be one of these here love stories by the -way you take on over it." - -"It's not," she says, getting ready to cry. "And what right have you got -in our wood-lot, anyhow?" - -"Well," I says, "I was jest about to move on and climb out of it when -you hollered to me from that tree." - -"I didn't!" she says. But she was mad because she knowed she _had_ spoke -to me first, and she was awful sorry she had. - -"I thought I hearn you holler," I says, "but I guess it must of been a -squirrel." I said it kind o' sarcastic like, fur I was still mad with -myself fur being so dumb when we first seen each other. I hadn't no idea -it would hurt her feelings as hard as it did. But all of a sudden she -begins to wink, and her chin trembled, and she turned around short, and -started to walk off slow. She was mad with herself fur being ketched in -a lie, and she was wondering what I would think of her fur being so bold -as to of spoke first to a feller she didn't know. - -I got up and follered her a little piece. And it come to me all to oncet -I had teased her too hard, and I was down on myself fur it. - -"Say," I says, kind of tagging along beside of her, "here's your old -book." - -But she didn't make no move to take it, and her hands was over her face, -and she wouldn't pull 'em down to even look at it. - -So I tried agin. - -"Well," I says, feeling real mean, "I wisht you wouldn't cry. I didn't -go to make you do that." - -She drops her hands and whirls around on me, mad as a wet hen right off. - -"I'm not! I'm not!" she sings out, and stamps her feet. "I'm not -crying!" But jest then she loses her holt on herself and busts out and -jest natcherally bellers. "I hate you!" she says, like she could of -killed me. - -That made me kind of dumb agin. Fur it come to me all to oncet I liked -that girl awful well. And here I'd up and made her hate me. I held the -book out to her agin and says: - -"Well, I'm mighty sorry fur that, fur I don't feel that-a-way about you -a-tall. Here's your book." - -Well, sir, she snatches that book and she gives it a sling. I thought it -was going kersplash into the crick. But it didn't. It hit right into the -fork of a limb that hung down over the crick, and it all spread out when -it lit, and stuck in that crotch somehow. She couldn't of slung it that -way on purpose in a million years. We both stands and looks at it a -minute. - -"Oh, oh!" she says, "what have I done? It's out of the town library and -I'll have to pay for it." - -"I'll get it fur you," I says. But it wasn't no easy job. If I shook -that limb it would tumble into the crick. But I clumb the tree and eased -out on that limb as fur as I dast to. And, of course, jest as I got holt -of the book, that limb broke and I fell into the crick. But I had the -book. It was some soaked, but I reckoned it could still be read. - -I clumb out and she was jest splitting herself laughing at me. The -wet on her face where she had cried wasn't dried up yet, and she was -laughing right through it, kind o' like the sun does to one of these -here May rainstorms sometimes, and she was the purtiest girl I ever -seen. Gosh!--how I was getting to like that girl! And she told me I -looked like a drowned rat. - -Well, that was how Martha and me was interduced. She wasn't more'n -sixteen, and when she found out I was a orphan she was glad, fur she was -one herself. Which Miss Hampton that lived in that house had took her to -raise. And when I tells her how I been travelling around the country all -summer she claps her hands and she says: - -"Oh, you are on a quest! How romantic!" - -I asts her what is a quest. And she tells me. She knowed all about them, -fur Martha was considerable of a reader. Some of them was longer and -some of them was shorter, them quests, but mostly, Martha says, they was -fur a twelvemonth and a day. And then you are released from your vow -and one of these here queens gives you a whack over the shoulder with a -sword and says: "Arise, Sir Marmeluke, I dub you a night." And then it -is legal fur you to go out and rescue people and reform them and spear -them if they don't see things your way, and come between husband and -wife when they row, and do a heap of good in the world. Well, they was -other kind of quests too, but mostly you married somebody, or was dubbed -a night, or found the party you was looking fur, in the end. And Martha -had it all fixed up in her own mind I was in a quest to find my father. -Fur, says she, he is purty certain to be a powerful rich man and more'n -likely a earl. - -[Illustration: 0105] - -The way I was found, Martha says, kind o' pints to the idea they was a -earl mixed up in it somewhere. She had read a lot about earls, and knew -their ways. Mebby my mother was a earl's daughter. Earl's daughters is -the worst fur leaving you out in baskets, going by what Martha said. It -is a kind of a habit with them, fur they is awful proud people. But it -was a lucky way to start life, from all she said, that basket way. There -was Moses was left out that way, and when he growed up he was made a -kind of a president of the hull human race, the same as Ruzevelt, and -figgered out the twelve commandments. Martha would of give anything if -she could of only been found in a basket like me, I could see that. But -she wasn't. She had jest been left a orphan when her folks died. They -wasn't even no hopes she had been changed at birth fur another one. But -I seen down in under everything Martha kind o' thought mebby one of them -nights might come a-prancing along and wed her in spite of herself, or -she would be carried off, or something. She was a very romanceful kind -of girl. - -When I seen she had it figgered out I was in a quest fur some -high-mucky-muck fur a dad, I didn't tell her no different. I didn't take -much stock in them earls and nights myself. So fur as I could see they -was all furriners of one kind or another. But that thing of being into a -quest kind of interested me, too. - -"How would I know him if I was to run acrost him?" I asts her. - -"You would feel an Intangible Something," she says, "drawing you toward -him." - -I asts her what kind of a something. I make out from what she says it is -some like these fellers that can find water with a piece of witch hazel -switch. You take a switch of it between your thumbs and point it up. -Then you shut your eyes and walk backwards. When you get over where the -water is the witch hazel stick twists around and points to the ground. -You dig there and you get a good well. Nobody knows jest why that -stick is drawed to the ground. It is like one of these little whirlygig -compasses is drawed to the north. It is the same, Martha says, if you is -on a quest fur a father or a mother, only you have got to be worthy of -that there quest, she says. The first time you meet the right one you -are drawed jest like the witch hazel. That is the Intangible Something -working on you, she says. Martha had learnt a lot about that. The book -that had fell in the crick was like that. She lent it to me. - -Well, that all sounded kind of reasonable to me. I seen that witch hazel -work myself. Old Blindy Wolfe, whose eyes had been dead fur so many -years they had turned plumb white, had that gift, and picked out all the -places fur wells that was dug in our neighbourhood at home. And I makes -up my mind I will watch out fur that feeling of being drawed wherever I -goes after this. You can't tell what will come of them kind of things. -So purty soon Martha has to milk the cow, and I goes along back to camp -thinking about that quest and about what a purty girl she is, which we -had set there talking so long it was nigh sundown and my clothes had -dried onto me. - -When I got over to camp I seen they must be something wrong. Looey was -setting in the grass under the wagon looking kind of sour and kind of -worried and watching the doctor. The doctor was jest inside the tent, -and he was looking queer too, and not cheerful, which he was usually. - -The doctor looks at me like he don't skeercly know me. Which he don't. -He has one of them quiet kind of drunks on. Which Looey explains is -bound to come every so often. He don't do nothing mean, but jest gets -low-sperrited and won't talk to no one. Then all of a sudden he will go -down town and walk up and down the main streets, orderly, but looking -hard into people's faces, mostly women's faces. Oncet, Looey says, they -was big trouble over it. They was in a store in a good-sized town, and -he took hold of a woman's chin, and tilted her face back, and looked at -her hard, and most scared her to death, and they was nearly being a riot -there. And he was jailed and had to pay a big fine. Since then Looey -always follers him around when he is that-a-way. - -Well, that night Doctor Kirby is too fur gone fur us to have our show. -He jest sets and stares and stares at the fire, and his eyes looks like -they is another fire inside of his head, and he is hurting outside and -in. Looey and me watches him from the shadders fur a long time before -we turns in, and the last thing I seen before I went to sleep was him -setting there with his face in his hands, staring, and his lips moving -now and then like he was talking to himself. - -The next day he is asleep all morning. But that day he don't drink -any more, and Looey says mebby it ain't going to be one of the reg'lar -pifflicated kind. I seen Martha agin that day, too--twicet I has talks -with her. I told her about the doctor. - -"Is he into a quest, do you think?" I asts her. - -She says she thinks it is remorse fur some crime he has done. But I -couldn't figger Doctor Kirby would of done none. So that night after the -show I says to him, innocent-like: - -"Doctor Kirby, what is a quest?" He looks at me kind of queer. - -"Wherefore," says he, "this sudden thirst for enlightenment?" - -"I jest run acrost the word accidental-like," I told him. - -He looks at me awful hard, his eyes jest natcherally digging into me. -I felt like he knowed I had set out to pump him. I wisht I hadn't tried -it. Then he tells me a quest is a hunt. And I'm glad that's over with. -But it ain't. Fur purty soon he says: - -"Danny, did you ever hear of Lady Clara Vere de Vere?" - -"No," I says, "who is she?" - -"A lady friend of Lord Tennyson's," he says, "whose manners were above -reproach." - -"Well," I says, "she sounds kind of like a medicine to me." - -"Lady Clara," he says, "and all the other Vere de Veres, were people -with manners we should try to imitate. If Lady Clara had been here last -night when I was talking to myself, Danny, her manners wouldn't have let -her listen to what I was talking about." - -"I didn't listen!" I says. Fur I seen what he was driving at now with -them Vere de Veres. He thought I had ast him what a quest was because he -was on one. I was certain of that, now. He wasn't quite sure what he had -been talking about, and he wanted to see how much I had hearn. I thinks -to myself it must be a awful funny kind of hunt he is on, if he only -hunts when he is in that fix. But I acted real innocent and like my -feelings was hurt, and he believed me. Purty soon he says, cheerful -like: - -"There was a girl talking to you to-day, Danny." - -"Mebby they was," I says, "and mebby they wasn't." But I felt my face -getting red all the same, and was mad because it did. He grinned kind of -aggervating at me and says some poetry at me about in the spring a young -man's frenzy likely turns to thoughts of love. - -"Well," I says, kind of sheepish-like, "this is summer-time, and purty -nigh autumn." Then I seen I'd jest as good as owned up I liked Martha, -and was kind of mad at myself fur that. But I told him some more about -her, too. Somehow I jest couldn't help it. He laughs at me and goes on -into the tent. - -I laid there and looked at the fire fur quite a spell, outside the tent. -I was thinking, if all them tales wasn't jest dern foolishness, how I -wisht I would really find a dad that was a high-muckymuck and could come -back in an automobile and take her away. I laid there fur a long, long -time; it must of been fur a couple of hours. I supposed the doctor had -went to sleep. - -But all of a sudden I looks up, and he is in the door of the tent -staring at me. I seen he had been in there at it hard agin, and -thinking, quiet-like, all this time. He stood there in the doorway of -the tent, with the firelight onto his face and his red beard, and his -arms stretched out, holding to the canvas and looking at me strange and -wild. Then he moved his hand up and down at me, and he says: - -"If she's fool enough to love you, treat her well--treat her well. For -if you don't, you can never run away from the hell you'll carry in your -own heart." - -And he kind of doubled up and pitched forward when he said that, and -if I hadn't ketched him he would of fell right acrost the fire. He was -plumb pifflicated. - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -Martha wouldn't of took anything fur being around Miss Hampton, she -said. Miss Hampton was kind of quiet and sweet and pale looking, and -nobody ever thought of talking loud or raising any fuss when she was -around. She had enough money of her own to run herself on, and she kep' -to herself a good deal. She had come to that town from no one knowed -where, years ago, and bought that place. Fur all of her being so gentle -and easy and talking with one of them soft, drawly kind of voices, -Martha says, no one had ever dared to ast her about herself, though they -was a lot of women in that town that was wishful to. - -But Martha said she knowed what Miss Hampton's secret was, and she -hadn't told no one, neither. Which she told me, and all the promising I -done about not telling would of made the cold chills run up your back, -it was so solemn. Miss Hampton had been jilted years ago, Martha said, -and the name of the jilter was David Armstrong. Well, he must of been -a low down sort of man. Martha said if things was only fixed in this -country like they ought to be, she would of sent a night to find that -David Armstrong. And that would of ended up in a mortal combat, and the -night would have cleaved him. - -"Yes," says I, "and then you would of married that there night, I -suppose." - -She says she would of. - -"Well," says I, "mebby you would of and mebby you wouldn't of. If he -cleaved David Armstrong, that night would likely be arrested fur it." - -Martha says if he was she would wait outside his dungeon keep fur years -and years, till she was a old woman with gray in her hair, and every day -they would give lingering looks at each other through the window bars. -And they would be happy thata-way. And she would get her a white dove -and train it so it would fly up to that window and take in notes to him, -and he would send notes back that-away, and they would both be awful sad -and romanceful and contented doing that-a-way fur ever and ever. - -Well, I never took no stock in them mournful ways of being happy. I -couldn't of riz up to being a night fur Martha. She expected too much of -one. I thought it over fur a little spell without saying anything, and -I tried to make myself believe I would of liked all that dove business. -But it wasn't no use pertending. I knowed I would get tired of it. - -"Martha," I says, "mebby these here nights is all right, and mebby they -ain't. I never seen one, and I don't know. And, mind you, I ain't saying -a word agin their way of acting. I can't say how I would of been myself, -if I had been brung up like them. But it looks to me, from some of the -things you've said about 'em, they must have a dern fool streak in 'em -somewheres." - -I was kind of jealous of them nights, I guess, or I wouldn't of run 'em -down that-a-way behind their backs. But the way she was always taking on -over them was calkelated to make me see I wasn't knee-high to a duck in -Martha's mind when one of them nights popped into her head. When I run -'em down that-a-way, she says to the blind all things is blind, and if I -had any chivalry into me myself I'd of seen they wasn't jest dern fools, -but noble, and seen it easy. And she sighed, like she'd looked fur -better things from me. When I hearn her do that I felt sorry I hadn't -come up to her expectances. So I says: - -"Martha, it's no use pertending I could stay in one of them jails and -keep happy at it. I got to be outdoors. But I tell you what I can do, -if it will make you feel any better. If I ever happen to run acrost this -here David Armstrong, and he is anywheres near my size, I'll lick him -fur you. And if he's too hefty fur me to lick him fair," I says, "and -I get a good chancet I will hit him with a piece of railroad iron fur -you." - -Of course, I knowed I would never find him. But what I said seemed to -brighten her up a little. - -"But," says I, "if I went too fur with it, and was hung fur it, how -would you feel then, Martha?" - -Well, sir, that didn't jar Martha none. She looked kind of dreamy and -said mebby she would go and jine a convent and be a nun. And when she -got to be the head nun she would build a chapel over the tomb where I -was buried in. And every year, on the day of the month I was hung on, -she would lead all the other nuns into that chapel, and the organ would -play mournful, and each nun as passed would lay down a bunch of white -roses onto my tomb. I reckon that orter made me feel good, but somehow -it didn't. - -So I changed the subject, and asts her why I ain't seen Miss Hampton -around the place none. Martha says she has a bad sick headache and ain't -been outside the house fur four or five days. I asts her why she don't -wait on her. But she don't want her to, Martha says. She's been staying -in the house ever since we been in town, and jest wants to be let alone. -I thinks all that is kind of funny. And then I seen from the way Martha -is answering my questions that she is holding back something she would -like to tell, but don't think she orter tell. I leaves her alone and -purty soon she says: - -"Do you believe in ghosts?" - -I tell her sometimes I think I don't believe in 'em, and sometimes I -think I do, but anyhow I would hate to see one. I asts her why does she -ast. - -"Because," she says, "because--but I hadn't ought to tell you." - -"It's daylight," I says; "it's no use being scared to tell now." - -"It ain't that," she says, "but it's a secret." - -When she said it was a secret, I knowed she would tell. Martha liked -having her friends help her to keep a secret. - -"I think Miss Hampton has seen one," she says, finally, "and that her -staying indoors has something to do with that." - -Then she tells me. The night of the day after we camped there, her and -Miss Hampton was out fur a walk. We didn't have any show that night. -They passed right by our camp, and they seen us there by the fire, all -three of us. But they was in the road in the dark, and we was all in the -light, so none of the three of us seen them. Miss Hampton was kind of -scared of us, first glance, fur she gasped and grabbed holt of Martha's -arm all of a sudden so tight she pinched it. Which it was very natcheral -that she would be startled, coming across three strange men all of a -sudden at night around a turn in the road. They went along home, and -Martha went inside and lighted a lamp, but Miss Hampton lingered on the -porch fur a minute. Jest as she lit the lamp Martha hearn another little -gasp, or kind of sigh, from Miss Hampton out there on the porch. Then -they was the sound of her falling down. Martha ran out with the lamp, -and she was laying there. She had fainted and keeled over. Martha said -jest in the minute she had left her alone on the porch was when Miss -Hampton must of seen the ghost. Martha brung her to, and she was looking -puzzled and wild-like both to oncet. Martha asts her what is the matter. - -"Nothing," she says, rubbing her fingers over her forehead in a helpless -kind of way, "nothing." - -"You look like you had seen a ghost," Martha tells her. - -Miss Hampton looks at Martha awful funny, and then she says mebby she -_has_ seen a ghost, and goes along upstairs to bed. And since then she -ain't been out of the house. She tells Martha it is a sick headache, but -Martha says she knows it ain't. She thinks she is scared of something. - -"Scared?" I says. "She wouldn't see no more ghosts in the daytime." - -Martha says how do I know she wouldn't? She knows a lot about ghosts of -all kinds, Martha does. - -Horses and dogs can see them easier than humans, even in the daytime, -and it makes their hair stand up when they do. But some humans that have -the gift can see them in the daytime like an animal. And Martha asts me -how can I tell but Miss Hampton is like that? - -"Well, then," I says, "she must be a witch. And if she is a witch why is -she scared of them a-tall?" - -But Martha says if you have second sight you don't need to be a witch to -see them in the daytime. - -Well, you can never tell about them ghosts. Some says one thing and some -says another. Old Mis' Primrose, in our town, she always believed in 'em -firm till her husband died. When he was dying they fixed it up he was -to come back and visit her. She told him he had to, and he promised. And -she left the front door open fur him night after night fur nigh a year, -in all kinds of weather; but Primrose never come. Mis' Primrose says he -never lied to her, and he always done jest as she told him, and if he -could of come she knowed he would; and when he didn't she quit believing -in ghosts. But they was others in our town said it didn't prove nothing -at all. They said Primrose had really been lying to her all his life, -because she was so bossy he had to lie to keep peace in the fambly, -and she never ketched on. Well, if I was a ghost and had of been Mis' -Primrose's husband when I was a human, I wouldn't of come back neither, -even if she had of bully-ragged me into one of them death-bed promises. -I guess Primrose figgered he had earnt a rest. - -If they is ghosts, what comfort they can get out of coming back where -they ain't wanted and scaring folks is more'n I can see. It's kind of -low down, I think, and foolish too. Them kind of ghosts is like these -here overgrown smart alecs that scares kids. They think they are mighty -cute, but they ain't. They are jest foolish. A human, or a ghost either, -that does things like that is jest simply got no principle to him. I -hearn a lot of talk about 'em, first and last, and I ain't ready to say -they ain't no ghosts, nor yet ready to say they is any. To say they is -any is to say something that is too plumb unlikely. And too many people -has saw them fur me to say they ain't any. But if they is, or they -ain't, so fur as I can see, it don't make much difference. Fur they -never do nothing, besides scaring you, except to rap on tables and tell -fortunes, and such fool things. Which a human can do it all better and -save the expense of paying money to one of these here sperrit mediums -that travels around and makes 'em perform. But all the same they has -been nights I has felt different about 'em myself, and less hasty to run -'em down. Well, it don't do no good to speak harsh of no one, not even a -ghost or a ordinary dead man, and if I was to see a ghost, mebby I would -be all the scareder fur what I have jest wrote. - -Well, with all the talking back and forth we done about them ghosts we -couldn't agree. That afternoon it seemed like we couldn't agree about -anything. I knowed we would be going away from there before long, and I -says to myself before I go I'm going to have that girl fur my girl, or -else know the reason why. No matter what I was talking about, that idea -was in the back of my head, and somehow it kind of made me want to -pick fusses with her, too. We was setting on a log, purty deep into the -woods, and there come a time when neither of us had said nothing fur -quite a spell. But after a while I says: - -"Martha, we'll be going away from here in two, three days now." - -She never said nothing. - -"Will you be sorry?" I asts her. - -She says she will be sorry. - -"Well," I says, "_why_ will you be sorry?" - -I thought she would say because _I_ was going. And then I would be -finding out whether she liked me a lot. But she says the reason she will -be sorry is because there will be no one new to talk to about things -both has read. I was considerable took down when she said that. - -"Martha," I says, "it's more'n likely I won't never see you agin after I -go away." - -She says that kind of parting comes between the best of friends. - -I seen I wasn't getting along very fast, nor saying what I wanted to -say. I reckon one of them Sir Marmeluke fellers would of knowed what to -say. Or Doctor Kirby would. Or mebby even Looey would of said it better -than I could. So I was kind of mad with myself, and I says, mean-like: - -"If you don't care, of course, I don't care, neither." - -She never answered that, so I gets up and makes like I am starting off. - -"I was going to give you some of them there Injun feathers of mine to -remember me by," I tells her, "but if you don't want 'em, there's plenty -of others would be glad to take 'em." - -But she says she would like to have them. - -"Well," I says, "I will bring them to you tomorrow afternoon." - -She says, "Thank you." - -Finally I couldn't stand it no longer. I got brave all of a sudden, and -busted out: "Martha, I--I--I--" - -But I got to stuttering, and my braveness stuttered itself away. And I -finishes up by saying: - -"I like you a hull lot, Martha." Which wasn't jest exactly what I had -planned fur to say. - -Martha, she says she kind of likes me, too. - -"Martha," I says, "I like you more'n any girl I ever run acrost before." - -She says, "Thank you," agin. The way she said it riled me up. She said -it like she didn't know what I meant, nor what I was trying to get out -of me. But she did know all the time. I knowed she did. She knowed I -knowed it, too. Gosh-dern it, I says to myself, here I am wasting all -this time jest _talking_ to her. The right thing to do come to me all of -a sudden, and like to took my breath away. But I done it. I grabbed her -and I kissed her. - -Twice. And then agin. Because the first was on the chin on account of -her jerking her head back. And the second one she didn't help me none. -But the third time she helped me a little. And the ones after that she -helped me considerable. - -Well, they ain't no use trying to talk about the rest of that afternoon. -I couldn't rightly describe it if I wanted to. And I reckon it's none of -anybody's business. - -Well, it makes you feel kind of funny. You want to go out and pick on -somebody about four sizes bigger'n you are and knock the socks off'n -him. It stands to reason others has felt that-a-way, but you don't -believe it. You want to tell people about it one minute. The next minute -you have got chills and ague fur fear some one will guess it. And you -think the way you are about her is going to last fur always. - -That evening, when I was cooking supper, I laughed every time I was -spoke to. When Looey and I was hitching up to drive down town to give -the show, one of the hosses stepped on his foot and I laughed at that, -and there was purty nigh a fight. And I was handling some bottles and -broke one and cut my hand on a piece of glass. I held it out fur a -minute dumb-like, with the blood and medicine dripping off of it, and -all of a sudden I busted out laughing agin. The doctor asts if I am -crazy. And Looey says he has thought I was from the very first, and some -night him and the doctor will be killed whilst asleep. One of the things -we have every night in the show is an Injun dance, and Looey and I sings -what the doctor calls the Siwash war chant, whirling round and round -each other, and making licks at each other with our tommyhawks, and -letting out sudden wild yips in the midst of that chant. That night I -like to of killed Looey with that tommyhawk, I was feeling so good. If -it had been a real one, instead of painted-up wood, I would of killed -Looey, the lick I give him. The worst part of that was that, after the -show, when we got back to camp and the hosses was picketed out fur the -night, I had to tell Looey all about how I felt fur an explanation of -why I hit him. - -[Illustration: 0127] - -Which it made Looey right low in his sperrits, and he shakes his head -and says no good will come of it. - -"Did you ever hear of Romeo and Joliet?" he says: - -"Mebby," I says, "but what it was I hearn I can't remember. What about -them?" - -"Well," he says, "they carried on the same as you. And now where are -they?" - -"Well," I says, "where are they?" - -"In the tomb," says Looey, very sad, like they was closte personal -friends of his'n. And he told me all about them and how Young Cobalt had -done fur them. But from what I could make out it all happened away back -in the early days. And shucks!--I didn't care a dern, anyhow. I told him -so. - -"Well," he says, "It's been the history of the world that it brings -trouble." And he says to look at Damon and Pythias, and Othello and the -Merchant of Venus. And he named about a hundred prominent couples like -that out of Shakespeare's works. - -"But it ends happy sometimes," I says. - -"Not when it is true love it don't," says Looey. "Look at Anthony and -Cleopatra." - -"Yes," I says, sarcastic like, "I suppose they are in the tomb, too?" - -"They are," says Looey, awful solemn. - -"Yes," I says, "and so is Adam and Eve and Dan and Burrsheba and all -the rest of them old-timers. But I bet they had a good time while they -lasted." - -Looey shakes his head solemn and sighs and goes to sleep very mournful, -like he has to give me up fur lost. But I can't sleep none myself. -So purty soon I gets up and puts on my shoes and sneaks through the -wood-lot and through the gap in the fence by the apple tree and into -Miss Hampton's yard. - -It was a beauty of a moonlight night, that white and clear and clean you -could almost see to read by it, like all of everything had been scoured -as bright as the bottom of a tin pan. And the shadders was soft and -thick and velvety and laid kind of brownish-greeney on the grass. I -flopped down in the shadder of some lilac bushes and wondered which was -Martha's window. I knowed she would be in bed long ago, but---- Well, I -was jest plumb foolish that night, and I couldn't of kept away fur any -money. That moonlight had got into my head, it seemed like, and made -me drunk. But I would rather be looney that-a-way than to have as much -sense as King Solomon and all his adverbs. I was that looney that if I -had knowed any poetry I would of said it out loud, right up toward that -window. I never knowed why poetry was made up before that night. But the -only poetry I could think of was about there was a man named Furgeson -that lived on Market Street, and he had a one-eyed Thomas cat that -couldn't well be beat. Which it didn't seem to fit the case, so I didn't -say her. - -The porch of that house was part covered with vines, but they was kind -of gaped apart at one corner. As I laid there in the shadder of the -bushes I hearn a fluttering movement, light and gentle, on that porch. -Then, all of a sudden, I seen some one standing on the edge of the porch -where the vines was gaped apart, and the moonlight was falling onto -them. They must of come there awful soft and still. Whoever it was -couldn't see into the shadder where I laid, that is, if it was a human -and not a ghost. Fur my first thought was it might be one of them ghosts -I had been running down so that very day, and mebby the same one Miss -Hampton seen on that very same porch. I thought I was in fur it then, -mebby, and I felt like some one had whispered to the back of my neck -it ought to be scared. And I _was_ scared clean up into my hair. I stared -hard, fur I couldn't take my eyes away. Then purty soon I seen if it was -a ghost it must be a woman ghost. Fur it was dressed in light-coloured -clothes that moved jest a little in the breeze, and the clothes was so -near the colour of the moonlight they seemed to kind of silver into -it. You would of said it had jest floated there, and was waiting fur to -float away agin when the breeze blowed a little stronger, or the moon -drawed it. - -It didn't move fur ever so long. Then it leaned forward through the gap -in the vines, and I seen the face real plain. It wasn't no ghost, it was -a lady. Then I knowed it must be Miss Hampton standing there. Away off -through the trees our camp fire sent up jest a dull kind of a glow. She -was standing there looking at that. I wondered why. - - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -The next day we broke camp and was gone from that place, and I took away -with me the half of a ring me and Martha had chopped in two. We kept on -going, and by the time punkins and county fairs was getting ripe we was -into the upper left-hand corner of Ohio. And there Looey left us. - -One day Doctor Kirby and me was walking along the main street of a -little town and we seen a bang-up funeral percession coming. It must of -been one of the Grand Army of the Republicans, fur they was some of the -old soldiers in buggies riding along behind, and a big string of people -follering in more buggies and some on foot. Everybody was looking mighty -sollum. But they was one man setting beside the undertaker on the seat -of the hearse that was looking sollumer than them all. It was Looey, and -I'll bet the corpse himself would of felt proud and happy and contented -if he could of knowed the style Looey was giving that funeral. - -It wasn't nothing Looey done, fur he didn't do nothing but jest set -there with his arms folded onto his bosom and look sad. But he done _that_ -better than any one else. He done it so well that you forgot the corpse -was the chief party to that funeral. Looey took all the glory from him. -He had jest natcherally stole that funeral away from its rightful owner -with his enjoyment of it. He seen the doctor and me as the hearse went -by our corner, but he never let on. A couple of hours later Looey comes -into camp and says he is going to quit. - -The doctor asts him if he has inherited money. - -"No," says Looey, "but my aunt has given me a chancet to go into -business." - -Looey says he was born nigh there, and was prowling around town the day -before and run acrost an old aunt of his'n he had forgot all about. -She is awful respectable and religious and ashamed of him being into -a travelling show. And she has offered to lend him enough to buy a -half-share in a business. - -"Well," says the doctor, "I hope it will be something you are fitted -for and will enjoy. But I've noticed that after a man gets the habit of -roaming around this terrestial ball it's mighty hard to settle down and -watch his vine and fig tree grow." - -Looey smiles in a sad sort of a way, which he seldom smiled fur -anything, and says he guesses he'll like the business. He says they -ain't many businesses he could take to. Most of them makes you forget -this world is but a fleeting show. But he has found a business which -keeps you reminded all the time that dust is dust and ash to ashes shalt -return. When he first went into the medicine business, he said, he was -drawed to it by the diseases and the sudden dyings-off it always kept -him in mind of. He thought they wasn't no other business could lay over -it fur that kind of comfort. But he has found out his mistake. - -"What kind of business are you going into?" asts the doctor. - -"I am going to be an undertaker," says Looey. "My aunt says this town -needs the right kind of an undertaker bad." - -Mr. Wilcox, the undertaker that town has, is getting purty old and -shaky, Looey says, and young Mr. Wilcox, his son, is too light-minded -and goes at things too brisk and airy to give it the right kind of a -send-off. People don't want him joking around their corpses and he is -a fat young man and can't help making puns even in the presence of the -departed. Old Mr. Wilcox's eyesight is getting so poor he made a scandal -in that town only the week before. He was composing a departed's face -into a last smile, but he went too fur with it, and give the departed -one of them awful mean, devilish kind of grins, like he had died with -a bad temper on. By the time the departed's fambly had found it out, -things had went too fur, and the face had set that-a-way, so it wasn't -safe to try to change it any. - -Old Mr. Wilcox had several brands of last looks. One was called: -"Bear Up, for We Will Meet Again." The one that had went wrong was his -favourite look, named: "O Death, Where is Thy Victory?" - -Looey's aunt says she will buy him a partnership if she is satisfied he -can fill the town's needs. They have a talk with the Wilcoxes, and he -rides on the hearse that day fur a try-out. His aunt peeks out behind -her bedroom curtains as the percession goes by her house, and when she -sees the style Looey is giving to that funeral, and how easy it comes -to him, that settles it with her on the spot. And it seems the hull dern -town liked it, too, including the departed's fambly. - -Looey says they is a lot of chancet fur improvements in the undertaking -game by one whose heart is in his work, and he is going into that -business to make a success of it, and try and get all the funeral trade -fur miles around. He reads us an advertisement of the new firm he has -been figgering out fur that town's weekly paper. I cut a copy out when -it was printed, and it is about the genteelest thing like that I even -seen, as follers: - -[Illustration: 0136] - - -WILCOX AND SIMMS Invite Your Patronage - -This earth is but a fleeting show, and the blank-winged angels wait for -all. It is always a satisfaction to remember that all possible has been -done for the deceased. - - See Our New Line of Coffins - Lined Caskets a Specialty - Lodge Work Solicited - -Time and tide wait for no man, and his days are few and full of -troubles. The paths of glory lead but to the grave, and none can tell -when mortal feet may stumble. - -When in Town Drop in and Inspect Our New Embalming Outfit. It is a -Pleasure to Show Goods and Tools Even if Your Family Needs no Work Done -Just Yet. - -Outfits for mourners who have been bereaved on short notice a specialty. -We take orders for tombstones. Look at our line of shrouds, robes, and -black suits for either sex and any age. Give us just one call, and you -will entrust future embalmings and obsequies in your family to no other -firm. - -WILCOX AND SIMMS Main Street, Near Depot - - -The doctor, he reads it over careful and says she orter drum up trade, -all right. Looey tells us that mebby, if he can get that town educated -up to it, he will put in a creamatory, where he will burn them, too, but -will go slow, fur that there sollum and beautiful way of returning ash -to ashes might make some prejudice in such a religious town. - -The last we seen of Looey was a couple of days later when we told him -good-bye in his shop. Old Mr. Wilcox was explaining to him the science -of them last looks he was so famous at when he was a younger man. Young -Mr. Wilcox was laying on a table fur Looey to practise on, and Looey was -learning fast. But he nearly broke down when he said good-bye, fur he -liked the doctor. - -"Doc," he says, "you've been a good friend, and I won't never forget -you. They ain't much I can do, and in this deceitful world words is less -than actions. But if you ever was to die within a hundred miles of me, -I'd go," he says, "and no other hands but mine should lay you out. And -it wouldn't cost you a cent, either. Nor you neither, Danny." - -We thanked him kindly fur the offer, and went. - -The next town we come to there was a county fair, and the doctor run -acrost an old pal of his'n who had a show on the grounds and wanted to -hire him fur what he called a ballyhoo man. Which was the first I ever -hearn them called that, but I got better acquainted with them since. -They are the fellers that stands out in front and gets you all excited -about the Siamese twins or the bearded lady or the snake-charmer or the -Circassian beauties or whatever it is inside the tent, as represented -upon the canvas. The doctor says he will do it fur a week, jest fur fun, -and mebby pick up another feller to take Looey's place out there. - -This feller's name is Watty Sanders, and his wife is a fat lady in his -own show and very good-natured when not intoxicated nor mad at Watty. She -was billed on the curtains outside fur five hundred and fifty pounds, -and Watty says she really does weigh nigh on to four hundred. But being -a fat lady's husband ain't no bed of rosy ease at that, Watty tells -the doctor. It's like every other trade--it has its own pertic'ler -responsibilities and troubles. She is a turrible expense to Watty on -account of eating so much. The tales that feller told of how hard he -has to hustle showing her off in order to support her appetite would of -drawed tears from a pawnbroker's sign, as Doctor Kirby says. Which he -found it cheaper fur his hull show to board and sleep in the tent, and -we done likewise. - -Well, I got a job with that show myself. Watty had a wild man canvas -but no wild man, so he made me an offer and I took him up. I was from -Borneo, where they're all supposed to be captured. Jest as Doctor Kirby -would get to his talk about how the wild man had been ketched after -great struggle and expense, with four men killed and another crippled, -there would be an awful rumpus on the inside of the tent, with wild -howlings and the sound of revolvers shot off and a woman screaming. Then -I would come busting out all blacked up from head to heel with no more -clothes on than the law pervided fur, yipping loud and shaking a big -spear and rolling my eyes, and Watty would come rushing after me firing -his revolver. I would make fur the doctor and draw my spear back to jab -it clean through him, and Watty would grab my arm. And the doctor would -whirl round and they would wrastle me to the ground and I would be -handcuffed and dragged back into the tent, still howling and struggling -to break loose. On the inside my part of the show was to be wild in a -cage. I would be chained to the floor, and every now and then I would -get wilder and rattle my chains and shake the bars and make jumps at the -crowd and carry on, and make believe I was too mad to eat the pieces of -raw meat Watty throwed into the cage. - -Watty had a snake-charmer woman, with an awful long, bony kind of neck, -working fur him, and another feller that was her husband and eat glass. -The show opened up with them two doing what they said was a comic turn. -Then the fat lady come on. Whilst everybody was admiring her size, and -looking at the number of pounds on them big cheat scales Watty weighed -her on, the long-necked one would be changing to her snake clothes. -Which she only had one snake, and he had been in the business so long, -and was so kind of worn out and tired with being charmed so much, it -always seemed like a pity to me the way she would take and twist him -around. I guess they never was a snake was worked harder fur the little -bit he got to eat, nor got no sicker of a woman's society than poor old -Reginald did. After Reginald had been charmed a while, it would be the -glass eater's turn. Which he really eat it, and the doctor says that -kind always dies before they is fifty. I never knowed his right name, -but what he went by was The Human Ostrich. - -Watty's wife was awful jealous of Mrs. Ostrich, fur she got the idea -she was carrying on with Watty. One night I hearn an argument from the -fenced-off part of the tent Watty and his wife slept in. She was setting -on Watty's chest and he was gasping fur mercy. - -"You know it ain't true," says Watty, kind of smothered-like. - -"It is," says she, "you own up it is!" And she give him a jounce. - -"No, darling," he gets out of him, "you know I never could bear them -thin, scrawny kind of women." And he begins to call her pet names of -all kinds and beg her please, if she won't get off complete, to set -somewheres else a minute, fur his chest he can feel giving way, and his -ribs caving in. He called her his plump little woman three or four -times and she must of softened up some, fur she moved and his voice come -stronger, but not less meek and lowly. And he follers it up: - -"Dolly, darling," he says, "I bet I know something my little woman don't -know." - -"What is it?" the fat lady asts him. - -[Illustration: 0143] - -"You don't know what a cruel, weak stomach your hubby has got," Watty -says, awful coaxing like, "or you wouldn't bear down quite so hard onto -it--please, Dolly!" - -She begins to blubber and say he is making fun of her big size, and if -he is mean to her any more or ever looks at another woman agin she will -take anti-fat and fade away to nothing and ruin his show, and it is -awful hard to be made a joke of all her life and not have no steady home -nor nothing like other women does. - -"You know I worship every pound of you, little woman," says Watty, -still coaxing. "Why can't you trust me? You know, Dolly, darling, I -wouldn't take your weight in gold for you." And he tells her they never -was but once in all his life he has so much as turned his head to look -at another woman, and that was by way of a plutonic admiration, and no -flirting intended, he says. And even then it was before he had met his -own little woman. And that other woman, he says, was plump too, fur he -wouldn't never look at none but a plump woman. - -"What did she weigh?" asts Watty's wife. He tells her a measly little -three hundred pound. - -"But she wasn't refined like my little woman," says Watty, "and when I -seen that I passed her up." And inch by inch Watty coaxed her clean off -of him. - -But the next day she hearn him and Mrs. Ostrich giggling about -something, and she has a reg'lar tantrum, and jest fur meanness goes out -and falls down on the race track, pertending she has fainted, and they -can't move her no ways, not even roll her. But finally they rousted her -out of that by one of these here sprinkling carts backing up agin her -and turning loose. - -But aside from them occasional mean streaks Dolly was real nice, and I -kind of got to liking her. She tells me that because she is so fat no -one won't take her serious like a human being, and she wisht she was -like other women and had a fambly. That woman wanted a baby, too, and I -bet she would of been good to it, fur she was awful good to animals. She -had been big from a little girl, and never got no sympathy when sick, -nor nothing, and even whilst she played with dolls as a kid she knowed -she looked ridiculous, and was laughed at. And by jings!--they was -the funniest thing come to light before we left that crowd. That poor, -derned, old, fat fool _had_ a doll yet, all hid away, and when she was -alone she used to take it out and cuddle it. Well, Dolly never had many -friends, and you couldn't blame her much if she did drink a little too -much now and then, or get mad at Watty fur his goings-on and kneel down -on him whilst he was asleep. Them was her only faults and I liked the -old girl. Yet I could see Watty had his troubles too. - -That show busted up before the fair closed. Fur one day Watty's wife -gets mad at Mrs. Ostrich and tries to set on her. And then Mrs. Ostrich -gets mad too, and sicks Reginald onto her. Watty's wife is awful scared -of Reginald, who don't really have ambition enough to bite no one, let -alone a lady built so round everywhere he couldn't of got a grip on her. -And as fur as wrapping himself around her and squashing her to death, -Reginald never seen the day he could reach that fur. Reginald's feelings -is plumb friendly toward Dolly when he is turned loose, but she don't -know that, and she has some hysterics and faints in earnest this time. -Well, they was an awful hullaballo when she come to, and fur the sake of -peace in the fambly Watty has to fire Mr. and Mrs. Ostrich and poor old -Reginald out of their jobs, and the show is busted. So Doctor Kirby and -me lit out fur other parts agin. - - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -We was jogging along one afternoon not fur from a good-sized town at the -top of Ohio, right on the lake, when we run acrost some remainders of -a busted circus riding in a stake and chain wagon. They was two -fellers--both jugglers, acrobats, and tumblers--and a balloon. The -circus had busted without paying them nothing but promises fur months -and months, and they had took the team and wagon and balloon by -attachment, they said. They was carting her from the little burg the -show busted in to that good-sized town on the lake. They would sell the -team and wagon there and get money enough to put an advertisement in -the Billboard, which is like a Bible to them showmen, that they had a -balloon to sell and was at liberty. - -One of them was the slimmest, lightest-footed, quickest feller you ever -seen, with a big nose and dark complected, and his name was Tobias. The -other was heavier and blonde complected. His name was Dobbs, he said, -and they was the Blanchet Brothers. Doctor Kirby and them got real well -acquainted in about three minutes. We drove on ahead and got into the -town first. - -The doctor says that balloon is jest wasted on them fellers. They can't -go up in her, not knowing that trade, but still they ought to be some -way fur them to make a little stake out of it before it was sold. - -The next evening we run acrost them fellers on the street, and they was -feeling purty blue. They hadn't been able to sell that team and wagon, -which it was eating its meals reg'lar in a livery stable, and they had -been doing stunts in the street that day and passing around the hat, but -not getting enough fur to pay expenses. - -"Where's the balloon?" asts the doctor. And I seen he was sicking his -intellects onto the job of making her pay. - -"In the livery stable with the wagon," they tells him. - -He says he is going to figger out a way to help them boys. They is like -all circus performers, he says--they jest knows their own acts, and -talks about 'em all the time, and studies up ways to make 'em better, -and has got no more idea of business outside of that than a rabbit. We -all went to the livery stable and overhauled that balloon. It was an -awful job, too. But they wasn't a rip in her, and the parachute was jest -as good as new. - -"There's no reason why we can't give a show of our own," says Doctor -Kirby, "with you boys and Danny and me and that balloon. What we want -is a lot with a high board fence around it, like a baseball grounds, -and the chance to tap a gas main." He says he'll be willing to take a -chancet on it, even paying the gas company real money to fill her up. - -What the Doctor didn't know about starting shows wasn't worth knowing. -He had even went in for the real drama in his younger days now and then. - -"One of my theatrical productions came very near succeeding, too," he -says. - -It was a play he says, in which the hero falls in love with a pair of -Siamese twins and commits suicide because he can't make a choice between -them. - -"We played it as comedy in the big towns and tragedy in the little -ones," he says. "But like a fool I booked it for two weeks of -middle-sized towns and it broke us." - -The next day he finds a lot that will do jest fine. It has been used fur -a school playgrounds, but the school has been moved and the old building -is to be tore down. He hired the place cheap. And he goes and talks the -gas company into giving him credit to fill that balloon. Which I kept -wondering what was the use of filling her, fur none of the four of -us had ever went up in one. And when I seen the handbills he had had -printed I wondered all the more. They read as follers: - -[Illustration: 0150] - -Kirby's Komedy Kompany and Open Air Circus - -Presenting a Peerless Personnel of Artistic Attractions - -Greatest in the Galaxy of Gaiety, is - -Hartley L. Kirby - -Monologuist and minstrel, dancer and vaudevillian in his terpsichorean -travesties, buoyant burlesques, inimitable imitations, screaming -impersonations, refined comedy sketches and popular song hits of the -day. - - -The Blanchet Brothers - -Daring, Dazzling, Danger-Loving, Death-Defying Demons - -Joyous jugglers, acrobatic artists, constrictorial contortionists, -exquisite equilibrists, in their marvellous, mysterious, unparalleled -performances. - - -Umslopogus The Patagonian Chieftain - -The lowest type of human intellect - -This formerly ferocious fiend has so far succumbed to the softer wiles -of civilization that he is no longer a cannibal, and it is now safe to -put him on exhibition. But to prevent accidents he is heavily manacled, -and the public is warned not to come too near. - - - Balloon! Balloon!! Balloon!!! - - The management also presents the balloon of - - Prof. Alonzo Ackerman The Famous Aeronaut - - in which he has made his - - Wonderful Ascension and Parachute Drop - - many times, reaching remarkable altitudes - - Balloon! Balloon!! Balloon!!! - - Saturday, 3 P. M. Old Vandegrift School Lot - - - Admission 50 Cents - - -Well, fur a writer he certainly laid over Looey, Doctor Kirby did--more -cheerful-like, you might say. I seen right off I was to be the -Patagonian Chieftain. I was getting more and more of an actor right -along--first an Injun, then a wild Borneo, and now a Patagonian. - -"But who is this Alonzo Ackerman?" I asts him. - -"Celebrated balloonist," says he, "and the man that invented parachutes. -They eat out of his hand." - -"Where is he?" asts I. - -"How should I know?" he says. - -"How is he going up, then?" I asts. - -The doctor chuckles and says it is a good bill, a better bill than he -thought; that it is getting in its work already. He says to me to read -it careful and see if it says Alonzo Ackerman is going up. Well, it -don't. But any one would of thought so the first look. I reckon that -bill was some of a liar herself, not lying outright, but jest hinting a -lie. They is a lot of mean, stingy-souled kind of people wouldn't never -lie to help a friend, but Doctor Kirby wasn't one of 'em. - -"But," I says, "when that crowd finds out Alonzo ain't going up they -will be purty mad." - -"Oh," says he, "I don't think so. The American public are a good-natured -set of chuckle-heads, mostly. If they get sore I'll talk 'em out of it." - -If he had any faults at all--and mind you, I ain't saying Doctor Kirby -had any--the one he had hardest was the belief he could talk any crowd -into any notion, or out of it, either. And he loved to do it jest fur -the fun of it. He'd rather have the feeling he was doing that than the -money any day. He was powerful vain about that gab of his'n, Doctor -Kirby was. - -The four of us took around about five thousand bills. The doctor says -they is nothing like giving yourself a chancet. And Saturday morning we -got the balloon filled up so she showed handsome, tugging away there at -her ropes. But we had a dern mean time with that balloon, too. - -The doctor says if we have good luck there may be as many as three, four -hundred people. - -But Jerusalem! They was two, three times that many. By the time the -show started I reckon they was nigh a thousand there. The doctor and -the Blanchet Brothers was tickled. When they quit coming fast the doctor -left the gate and made a little speech, telling all about the wonderful -show, and the great expense it was to get it together, and all that. - -They was a rope stretched between the crowd and us. Back of that was the -Blanchet Brothers' wagon and our wagon, and our little tent. I was jest -inside the tent with chains on. Back of everything else was the balloon. - -Well, the doctor he done a lot of songs and things as advertised. Then -the Blanchet Brothers done some of their acts. They was really fine -acts, too. Then come some more of Doctor Kirby's refined comedy, as -advertised. Next, more Blanchet. Then a lecture about me by the doctor. -All in all it takes up about an hour and a half. Then the doctor makes -a mighty nice little talk, and wishes them all good afternoon, thanking -them fur their kind intentions and liberal patronage, one and all. - -"But when will the balloon go up?" asts half a dozen at oncet. - -"The balloon?" asts Doctor Kirby, surprised. - -"Balloon! Balloon!" yells a kid. And the hull crowd took it up and -yelled: "Balloon! Balloon! Balloon!" And they crowded up closte to that -rope. - -Doctor Kirby has been getting off the wagon, but he gets back on her, -and stretches his arms wide, and motions of 'em all to come close. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," he says, "please to gather near--up here, -good people--and listen! Listen to what I have to say--harken to the -utterings of my voice! There has been a misunderstanding here! There has -been a misconstruction! There has been, ladies and gentlemen, a woeful -lack of comprehension here!" - -It looked to me like they was beginning to understand more than he meant -them to. I was wondering how it would all come out, but he never lost -his nerve. - -"Listen," he says, very earnest, "listen to me. Somehow the idea seems -to have gone forth that there would be a balloon ascension here this -afternoon. How, I do not know, for what we advertised, ladies and -gentlemen, was that the balloon used by Prof. Alonzo Ackerman, the -illustrious aeronaut, would be _UPON EXHIBITION_. And there she is, ladies -and gentlemen, there she is, for every eye to see and gladden with the -sight of--right before you, ladies and gentlemen--the balloon of Alonzo -Ackerman, the wonderful voyager of the air, exactly as represented. -During their long career Kirby and Company have never deceived the -public. Others may, but Kirby and Company are like Caesar's wife--Kirby -and Company are above suspicion. It is the province of Kirby's Komedy -Kompany, ladies and gentlemen, to spread the glad tidings of innocent -amusement throughout the length and breadth of this fair land of ours. -And there she is before you, the balloon as advertised, the gallant ship -of the air in which the illustrious Ackerman made so many voyages before -he sailed at last into the Great Beyond! You can see her, ladies and -gentlemen, straining at her cords, anxious to mount into the heavens -and be gone! It is an education in itself, ladies and gentlemen, a moral -education, and well worth coming miles to see. Think of it--think of -it--the Ackerman balloon--and then think that the illustrious Ackerman -himself--he was my personal friend, ladies and gentlemen, and a true -friend sticketh closer than a brother--the illustrious Ackerman is dead. -The balloon, ladies and gentlemen, is there, but Ackerman is gone to his -reward. Look at that balloon, ladies and gentlemen, and tell me if you -can, why should the spirit of mortals be proud? For the man that rode -her like a master and tamed her like she was a dove lies cold and dead -in a western graveyard, ladies and gentlemen, and she is here, a useless -and an idle vanity without the mind that made her go!" - -Well, he went on and he told a funny story about Alonzo, which I don't -believe they ever was no Alonzo Ackerman, and a lot of 'em laughed; -and he told a pitiful story, and they got sollum agin, and then another -funny story. Well, he had 'em listening, and purty soon most of the -crowd is feeling in a good humour toward him, and one feller yells out: - -"Go it--you're a hull show yourself!" And some joshes him, but they -don't seem to be no trouble in the air. When they all look to be in a -good humour he holds up a bill and asts how many has them. Many has. He -says that is well, and then he starts to telling another story. But -in the middle of the story that hull dern crowd is took with a fit of -laughing. They has looked at the bill closet, and seen they is sold, and -is taking it good-natured. And still shouting and laughing most of them -begins to start along off. And I thought all chancet of trouble was over -with. But it wasn't. - -Fur they is always a natcheral born kicker everywhere, and they was one -here, too. - -He was a lean feller with a sticking out jaw, and one of his eyes was in -a kind of a black pocket, and he was jest natcherally laying it off to -about a dozen fellers that was in a little knot around him. - -The doctor sees the main part of the crowd going and climbs down off'n -the wagon. As he does so that hull bunch of about a dozen moves in under -the rope, and some more that was going out seen it, and stopped and come -back. - -"Perfessor," says the man with the patch over his eye to Doctor Kirby, -"you say this man Ackerman is dead?" - -"Yes," says the doctor, eying him over, "he's dead." - -"How did he die?" asts the feller. - -"He died hard, I understand," says the doctor, careless-like. - -"Fell out of his balloon?" - -"Yes." - -"This aeronaut trade is a dangerous trade, I hear," says the feller with -the patch on his eye. - -"They say so," says Doctor Kirby, easy-like. - -"Was you ever an aeronaut yourself?" asts the feller. - -"No," says the doctor. - -"Never been up in a balloon?" - -"No." - -"Well, you're going up in one this afternoon!" - -"What do you mean?" asts Doctor Kirby. - -"We've come out to see a balloon ascension--and we're going to see it, -too." - -And with that the hull crowd made a rush at the doctor. - -Well, I been in fights before that, and I been in fights since then. But -I never been in no harder one. The doctor and the two Blanchet brothers -and me managed to get backed up agin the fence in a row when the rush -come. I guess I done my share, and I guess the Blanchet brothers done -theirn, too. But they was too many of 'em for us--too dern many. It -wouldn't of ended as quick as it did if Doctor Kirby hadn't gone clean -crazy. His back was to the fence, and he cleaned out everything in front -of him, and then he give a wild roar jest like a bull and rushed that -hull gang--twenty men, they was--with his head down. He caught two -fellers, one in each hand, and he cracked their heads together, and he -caught two more, and done the same. But he orter never took his back -away from that fence. The hull gang closed in on him, and down he went -at the bottom of a pile. I was awful busy myself, but I seen that pile -moving and churning. Then I made a big mistake myself. I kicked a feller -in the stomach, and another feller caught my leg, and down I went. Fur -a half a minute I never knowed nothing. And when I come to I was all -mashed about the face, and two fellers was sitting on me. - -The crowd was tying Doctor Kirby to that parachute. They straddled -legs over the parachute bar, and tied his feet below it. He was still -fighting, but they was too many fur him. They left his arms untied, but -they held 'em, and then-- - -Then they cut her loose. She went up like she was shot from a gun, and -as she did Doctor Kirby took a grip on a feller's arm that hadn't let -loose quick enough and lifted him plumb off'n the ground. He slewed -around on the trapeze bar with the feller's weight, and slipped head -downward. And as he slipped he give that feller a swing and let loose -of him, and then ketched himself by the crook of one knee. The feller -turned over twicet in the air and landed in a little crumpled-up pile on -the ground, and never made a sound. - -The fellers that had holt of me forgot me and stood up, and I stood up -too, and looked. The balloon was rising fast. Doctor Kirby was trying to -pull himself up to the trapeze bar, twisting and squirming and having -a hard time of it, and shooting higher every second. I reckoned he -couldn't fall complete, fur where his feet was tied would likely hold -even if his knee come straight--but he would die mebby with his head -filling up with blood. But finally he made a squirm and raised himself a -lot and grabbed the rope at one side of the bar. And then he reached and -got the rope on the other side, and set straddle of her. And jest as he -done that the wind ketched the balloon good and hard, and she turned out -toward Lake Erie. It was too late fur him to pull the rope that sets the -parachute loose then, and drop onto the land. - -I rushed out of that schoolhouse yard and down the street toward the -lake front, and run, stumbling along and looking up. She was getting -smaller every minute. And with my head in the air looking up I was -running plumb to the edge of the water before I knowed it. - -She was away out over the lake now, and awful high, and going fast -before the wind, and the doctor was only a speck. And as I stared at -that speck away up in the sky I thought this was a mean world to live -in. Fur there was the only real friend I ever had, and no way fur me to -help him. He had learnt me to read, and bought me good clothes, and made -me know they was things in the world worth travelling around to see, and -made me feel like I was something more than jest Old Hank Walters's dog. -And I guessed he would be drownded and I would never see him agin now. -And all of a sudden something busted loose inside of me, and I sunk -down there at the edge of the water, sick at my stomach, and weak and -shivering. - - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -I didn't exactly faint there, but things got all mixed fur me, and when -they was straightened out agin I was in a hospital. It seems I had -been considerable stepped on in that fight, and three ribs was broke. I -knowed I was hurting, but I was so interested in what was happening to -the doctor the hull hurt never come to me till the balloon was way out -over the lake. - -But now I was in a plaster cast, and before I got out of that I was in a -fever. I was some weeks getting out of there. - -I tried to get some word of Doctor Kirby, but couldn't. Nothing had been -heard of him or the balloon. The newspapers had had stuff about it fur a -day or two, and they guessed the body might come to light sometime. But -that was all. And I didn't know where to hunt nor how. - -The hosses and wagon and tent and things worried me some, too. They -wasn't mine, and so I couldn't sell 'em. And they wasn't no good to me -without Doctor Kirby. So I tells the man that owns the livery stable to -use the team fur its board and keep it till Doctor Kirby calls fur it, -and if he never does mebby I will sometime. - -I didn't want to stay in that town or I could of got a job in the livery -stable. They offered me one, but I hated that town. I wanted to light -out. I didn't much care where to. - -Them Blanchet Brothers had left a good share of the money we took in -at the balloon ascension with the hospital people fur me before they -cleared out. But before I left that there town I seen they was one thing -I had to do to make myself easy in my mind. So I done her. - -That was to hunt up that feller with his eye in the patch. It took me -a week to find him. He lived down near some railroad yards. I might of -soaked him with a coupling link and felt a hull lot better. But I didn't -guess it would do to pet and pamper my feelings too much. So I does it -with my fists in a quiet place, and does it very complete, and leaves -that town in a cattle car, feeling a hull lot more contented in my mind. - -Then they was a hull dern year I didn't stay nowhere very long, nor -work at any one job too long, neither. I jest worked from place to place -seeing things--big towns and rivers and mountains. Working here and -there, and loafing and riding blind baggages and freight trains between -jobs, I covered a lot of ground that year, and made some purty big -jumps, and got acquainted with some awful queer folks, first and last. - -But the worst of that is lots of people gets to thinking I am a hobo. -Even one or two judges in police courts I got acquainted with had that -there idea of me. I always explains that I am not one, and am jest -travelling around to see things, and working when I feels like it, and -ain't no bum. But frequent I am not believed. And two, three different -times I gets to the place where I couldn't hardly of told myself from a -hobo, if I hadn't of knowed I wasn't one. - -I got right well acquainted with some of them hobos, too. As fur as I -can see, they is as much difference in them as in other humans. Some -travels because they likes to see things, and some because they hates to -work, and some because they is in the habit and can't stop it. Well, I -know myself it's purty hard after while to stop it, fur where would you -stop at? What excuse is they to stop one place more'n another? I met all -kinds of 'em, and oncet I got in fur a week with a couple of real Johnny -Yeggs that is both in the pen now. I hearn a feller say one time there -is some good in every man. I went the same way as them two yeggmen a -hull dern week to try and find out where the good in 'em was. I guess -they must be some mistake somewheres, fur I looked hard and I watched -closet and I never found it. They is many kinds of hobos and tramps, -perfessional and amachure, and lots of kinds of bums, and lots of young -fellers working their way around to see things, like I was, and lots of -working men in hard luck going from place to place, and all them kinds -is humans. But the real yeggman ain't even a dog. - -And oncet I went all the way from Chicago to Baltimore with a serious, -dern fool that said he was a soshyologest, whatever them is, and was -going to put her all into a book about the criminal classes. He worked -hard trying to get at the reason I was a hobo. Which they wasn't no -reason, fur I wasn't no hobo. But I didn't want to disappoint that -feller and spoil his book fur him. So I tells him things. Things not -overly truthful, but very full of crime. About a year afterward I was -into one of these here Andrew Carnegie lib'aries with the names of the -old-time presidents all chiselled along the top and I seen the hull -dern thing in print. He said of me the same thing I have said about them -yeggmen. If all he met joshed that feller the same as me, that book must -of been what you might call misleading in spots. - -One morning I woke up in a good-sized town in Illinoise, not a hundred -miles from where I was raised, without no money, and my clothes not much -to look at, and no job. I had been with a railroad show fur about two -weeks, driving stakes and other rough work, and it had went off and left -me sleeping on the ground. Circuses never waits fur nothing nor cares a -dern fur no one. I tried all day around town fur to get some kind of a -job. But I was looking purty rough and I couldn't land nothing. Along in -the afternoon I was awful hungry. - -I was feeling purty low down to have to ast fur a meal, but finally I -done it. - -I dunno how I ever come to pick out such a swell-looking house, but I -makes a little talk at the back door and the Irish girl she says, "Come -in," and into the kitchen I goes. - -"It's Minnesota you're working toward?" asts she, pouring me out a cup -of coffee. - -She is thinking of the wheat harvest where they is thousands makes fur -every fall. But none of 'em fur me. That there country is full of them -Scandiluvian Swedes and Norwegians, and they gets into the field before -daylight and stays there so long the hired man's got to milk the cows by -moonlight. - -"I been acrost the river into I'way," I says, "a-working at my trade, -and now I'm going back to Chicago to work at it some more." - -"What might your trade be?" she asts, sizing me up careful; and I thinks -I'll hand her one to chew on she ain't never hearn tell of before. - -"I'm a agnostic by trade," I says. I spotted that there word in a -religious book one time, and that's the first chancet I ever has to try -it on any one. You can't never tell what them reg'lar sockdologers is -going to do till you tries them. - -"I see," says she. But I seen she didn't see. And I didn't help her -none. She would of ruther died than to let on she didn't see. The Irish -is like that. Purty soon she says: - -"Ain't that the dangerous kind o' work, though!" - -"It is," I says. And says nothing further. - -She sets down and folds her arms, like she was thinking of it, watching -my hands closet all the time I was eating, like she's looking fur scars -where something slipped when I done that agnostic work. Purty soon she -says: - -"Me brother Michael was kilt at it in the old country. He was the most -vinturesome lad of thim all!" - -"Did it fly up and hit him?" I asts her. I was wondering w'ether she is -making fun of me or am I making fun of her. Them Irish is like that, you -can never tell which. - -"No," says she, "he fell off of it. And I'm thinking you don't know what -it is yourself." And the next thing I know I'm eased out o' the back -door and she's grinning at me scornful through the crack of it. - -So I was walking slow around toward the front of the house thinking how -the Irish was a great nation, and what shall I do now, anyhow? And I -says to myself: "Danny, you was a fool to let that circus walk off and -leave you asleep in this here town with nothing over you but a barbed -wire fence this morning. Fur what _are_ you going to do next? First thing -you know, you _will_ be a reg'lar tramp, which some folks can't be made -to see you ain't now." And jest when I was thinking that, a feller comes -down the front steps of that house on the jump and nabs me by the coat -collar. - -"Did you come out of this house?" he asts. - -"I did," I says, wondering what next. - -"Back in you go, then," he says, marching me forward toward them front -steps, "they've got smallpox in there." - -I like to of jumped loose when he says that. - -"Smallpox ain't no inducement to me, mister," I tells him. But he -twisted my coat collar tight and dug his thumbs into my neck, all the -time helping me onward with his knee from behind, and I seen they wasn't -no use pulling back. I could probable of licked that man, but they's no -system in mixing up with them well-dressed men in towns where they think -you are a tramp. The judge will give you the worst of it. - -He rung the door bell and the girl that opened the door she looked kind -o' surprised when she seen me, and in we went. - -"Tell Professor Booth that Doctor Wilkins wants to see him again," -says the man a-holt o' me, not letting loose none. And we says nothing -further till the perfessor comes, which he does, slow and absent-minded. -When he seen me he took off his glasses so's he could see me better, and -he says: - -"What is that you have there, Doctor Wilkins?" - -"A guest for you," says Doctor Wilkins, grinning all over hisself. "I -found him leaving your house. And you being under quarantine, and me -being secretary to the board of health, and the city pest-house being -crowded too full already, I'll have to ask you to keep him here till -we get Miss Margery onto her feet again," he says. Or they was words to -that effect, as the lawyers asts you. - -"Dear me," says Perfesser Booth, kind o' helpless like. And he -comes over closet to me and looks me all over like I was one of them -amphimissourian lizards in a free museum. And then he goes to the foot -of the stairs and sings out in a voice that was so bleached-out and -flat-chested it would of looked jest like him himself if you could of -saw it--"Estelle," he sings out, "oh, Estelle!" - -Estelle, she come down stairs looking like she was the perfessor's big -brother. I found out later she was his old maid sister. She wasn't no -spring chicken, Estelle wasn't, and they was a continuous grin on her -face. I figgered it must of froze there years and years ago. They was -a kid about ten or eleven years old come along down with her, that had -hair down to its shoulders and didn't look like it knowed whether it was -a girl or a boy. Miss Estelle, she looks me over in a way that makes me -shiver, while the doctor and the perfessor jaws about whose fault it is -the smallpox sign ain't been hung out. And when she was done listening -she says to the perfessor: "You had better go back to your laboratory." -And the perfessor he went along out, and the doctor with him. - -"What are you going to do with him, Aunt Estelle?" the kid asts her. - -"What would _you_ suggest, William, Dear?" asts his aunt. I ain't feeling -very comfortable, and I was getting all ready jest to natcherally bolt -out the front door now the doctor was gone. Then I thinks it mightn't be -no bad place to stay in fur a couple o' days, even risking the smallpox. -Fur I had riccolected I couldn't ketch it nohow, having been vaccinated -a few months before in Terry Hutt by compulsive medical advice, me being -fur a while doing some work on the city pavements through a mistake -about me in the police court. - -William Dear looks at me like it was the day of judgment and his job was -to keep the fatted calves separate from the goats and prodigals, and he -says: - -"If I were you, Aunt Estelle, the first thing would be to get his hair -cut and his face washed and then get him some clothes." - -"William Dear is my friend," thinks I. - -[Illustration: 0171] - -She calls James, which was a butler. James, he buttles me into a -bathroom the like o' which I never seen afore, and then he buttles me -into a suit o' somebody's clothes and into a room at the top o' the -house next to his'n, and then he comes back and buttles a comb and brush -at me. James was the most mournful-looking fat man I ever seen, and he -says that account of me not being respectable I will have my meals alone -in the kitchen after the servants has eat. - -The first thing I knowed I been in that house more'n a week. I eat and I -slept and I smoked and I kind of enjoyed not worrying about things fur -a while. The only oncomfortable thing about being the perfessor's guest -was Miss Estelle. Soon's she found out I was a agnostic she took charge -o' my intellectuals and what went into 'em, and she makes me read things -and asts me about 'em, and she says she is going fur to reform me. And -whatever brand o' disgrace them there agnostics really is I ain't found -out to this day, having come acrost the word accidental. - -Biddy Malone, which was the kitchen mechanic, she says the perfessor's -wife's been over to her mother's while this smallpox has been going on, -and they is a nurse in the house looking after Miss Margery, the little -kid that's sick. And Biddy, she says if she was Mrs. Booth she'd stay -there, too. They's been some talk, anyhow, about Mrs. Booth and a -musician feller around that there town. But Biddy, she likes Mrs. Booth, -and even if it was true, which it ain't Biddy says, who could of blamed -her? Fur things ain't joyous around that house the last year, since Miss -Estelle's come there to live. The perfessor, he's so full of scientifics -he don't know nothing with no sense to it, Biddy says. He's got more -money'n you can shake a stick at, and he don't have to do no work, nor -never has, and his scientifics gets worse and worse every year. But -while scientifics is worrying to the nerves of a fambly, and while his -labertory often makes the house smell like a sick drug store has crawled -into it and died there, they wouldn't of been no serious row on between -the perfessor and his wife, not _all_ the time, if it hadn't of been fur -Miss Estelle. She has jest natcherally made herself boss of that there -house, Biddy says, and she's a she-devil. Between all them scientifics -and Miss Estelle things has got where Mrs. Booth can't stand 'em much -longer. - -I didn't blame her none fur getting sore on her job, neither. You -can't expect a woman that's purty, and knows it, and ain't no more'n -thirty-two or three, and don't look it, to be serious intrusted in -mummies and pickled snakes and chemical perfusions, not _all_ the time. -Mebby when Mrs. Booth would ast him if he was going to take her to the -opery that night the perfessor would look up in an absent-minded sort -of way and ast her did she know them Germans had invented a new germ? It -wouldn't of been so bad if the perfessor had picked out jest one brand -of scientifics and stuck to that reg'lar. Mrs. Booth could of got use to -any _one_ kind. But mebby this week the perfessor would be took hard with -ornithography and he'd go chasing humming-birds all over the front yard, -and the next he'd be putting gastronomy into William's breakfast feed. - -They was always a row on over them kids, which they hadn't been till -Miss Estelle come. Mrs. Booth, she said they could kill their own -selves, if they wanted to, him and Miss Estelle, but she had more -right than any one else to say what went into William's and Margery's -digestive ornaments, and she didn't want 'em brung up scientific nohow, -but jest human. But Miss Estelle's got so she runs that hull house -now, and the perfessor too, but he don't know it, Biddy says, and her -a-saying every now and then it was too bad Frederick couldn't of married -a noble woman who would of took a serious intrust in his work. The kids -don't hardly dare to kiss their ma in front of Miss Estelle no more, on -account of germs and things. And with Miss Estelle taking care of their -religious organs and their intellectuals and the things like that, and -the perfessor filling them up on new invented feeds, I guess they never -was two kids got more education to the square inch, outside and in. It -hadn't worked none on Miss Margery yet, her being younger, but William -Dear he took it hard and serious, and it made bumps all over his head, -and he was kind o' pale and spindly. Every time that kid cut his finger -he jest natcherally bled scientifics. One day I says to Miss Estelle, -says I: - -"It looks to me like William Dear is kind of peaked." She looks worried -and she looks mad fur me lipping in, and then she says mebby it is true, -but she don't see why, because he is being brung up like he orter be in -every way and no expense nor trouble spared. - -"Well," says I, "what a kid about that size wants to do is to get out -and roll around in the dirt some, and yell and holler." - -She sniffs like I wasn't worth taking no notice of. But it kind o' -soaked in, too. She and the perfessor must of talked it over. Fur the -next day I seen her spreading a oilcloth on the hall floor. And then -James comes a buttling in with a lot of sand what the perfessor has -baked and made all scientific down in his labertory. James, he pours all -that nice, clean dirt onto the oilcloth and then Miss Estelle sends fur -William Dear. - -"William Dear," she says, "we have decided, your papa and I, that what -you need is more romping around and playing along with your studies. You -ought to get closer to the soil and to nature, as is more healthy for -a youth of your age. So for an hour each day, between your studies, you -will romp and play in this sand. You may begin to frolic now, William -Dear, and then James will sweep up the dirt again for to-morrow's -frolic." - -But William didn't frolic none. He jest looked at that dirt in a sad -kind o' way, and he says very serious but very decided: - -"Aunt Estelle, I shall _not_ frolic." And they had to let it go at that, -fur he never would frolic none, neither. And all that nice clean dirt -was throwed out in the back yard along with the unscientific dirt. - - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -One night when I've been there more'n a week, and am getting kind o' -tired staying in one place so long, I don't want to go to bed after I -eats, and I gets a-holt of some of the perfessor's cigars and goes -into the lib'ary to see if he's got anything fit to read. Setting there -thinking of the awful remarkable people they is in this world I must of -went to sleep. Purty soon, in my sleep, I hearn two voices. Then I waked -up sudden, and still hearn 'em, low and quicklike, in the room that -opens right off of the lib'ary with a couple of them sliding doors like -is onto a box car. One voice was a woman's voice, and it wasn't Miss -Estelle's. - -"But I _must_ see them before we go, Henry," she says. - -And the other was a man's voice and it wasn't no one around our house. - -"But, my God," he says, "suppose you get it yourself, Jane!" - -I set up straight then, fur Jane was the perfessor's wife's first name. - -"You mean suppose _you_ get it," she says. I like to of seen the look she -must of give him to fit in with the way she says that _you_. He didn't say -nothing, the man didn't; and then her voice softens down some, and -she says, low and slow: "Henry, wouldn't you love me if I _did_ get it? -Suppose it marked and pitted me all up?" - -"Oh, of course," he says, "of course I would. Nothing can change the way -I feel. _You_ know that." He said it quick enough, all right, jest the way -they does in a show, but it sounded _too much_ like it does on the stage -to of suited me if _I_'d been her. I seen folks overdo them little talks -before this. - -I listens some more, and then I sees how it is. This is that musician -feller Biddy Malone's been talking about. Jane's going to run off with -him all right, but she's got to kiss the kids first. Women is like that. -They may hate the kids' pa all right, but they's dad-burned few of 'em -don't like the kids. I thinks to myself: "It must be late. I bet they -was already started, or ready to start, and she made him bring her here -first so's she could sneak in and see the kids. She jest simply couldn't -get by. But she's taking a fool risk, too. Fur how's she going to see -Margery with that nurse coming and going and hanging around all night? -And even if she tries jest to see William Dear it's a ten to one shot -he'll wake up and she'll be ketched at it." - -And then I thinks, suppose she _is_ ketched at it? What of it? Ain't a -woman got a right to come into her own house with her own door key, even -if they is a quarantine onto it, and see her kids? And if she is ketched -seeing them, how would any one know she was going to run off? And ain't -she got a right to have a friend of hern and her husband's bring her -over from her mother's house, even if it is a little late? - -Then I seen she wasn't taking no great risks neither, and I thinks mebby -I better go and tell that perfessor what is going on, fur he has treated -me purty white. And then I thinks: "I'll be gosh-derned if I meddle. -So fur as I can see that there perfessor ain't getting fur from what's -coming to him, nohow. And as fur _her_, you got to let some people find -out what they want fur theirselves. Anyhow, where do _I_ come in at?" - -But I want to get a look at her and Henry, anyhow. So I eases off my -shoes, careful-like, and I eases acrost the floor to them sliding doors, -and I puts my eye down to the little crack. The talk is going backward -and forward between them two, him wanting her to come away quick, and -her undecided whether to risk seeing the kids. And all the time she's -kind o' hoping mebby she will be ketched if she tries to see the kids, -and she's begging off fur more time ginerally. - -Well, sir, I didn't blame that musician feller none when I seen her. She -was a peach. - -And I couldn't blame her so much, neither, when I thought of Miss -Estelle and all them scientifics of the perfessor's strung out fur years -and years world without end. - -Yet, when I seen the man, I sort o' wished she wouldn't. I seen right -off that Henry wouldn't do. It takes a man with a lot of gumption to -keep a woman feeling good and not sorry fur doing it when he's married -to her. But it takes a man with twicet as much to make her feel right -when they ain't married. This feller wears one of them little, brown, -pointed beards fur to hide where his chin ain't. And his eyes is too -much like a woman's. Which is the kind that gets the biggest piece of -pie at the lunch counter and fergits to thank the girl as cuts it big. -She was setting in front of a table, twisting her fingers together, and -he was walking up and down. I seen he was mad and trying not to show it, -and I seen he was scared of the smallpox and trying not to show that, -too. And jest about that time something happened that kind o' jolted me. - -They was one of them big chairs in the room where they was that has got -a high back and spins around on itself. It was right acrost from me, on -the other side of the room, and it was facing the front window, which -was a bow window. And that there chair begins to turn, slow and easy. -First I thought she wasn't turning. Then I seen she was. But Jane and -Henry didn't. They was all took up with each other in the middle of the -room, with their backs to it. - -Henry is a-begging of Jane, and she turns a little more, that chair -does. Will she squeak, I wonders? - -"Don't you be a fool, Jane," says the Henry feller. - -Around she comes three hull inches, that there chair, and nary a squeak. - -"A fool?" asts Jane, and laughs. "And I'm not a fool to think of going -with you at all, then?" - -That chair, she moved six inches more and I seen the calf of a leg and -part of a crumpled-up coat tail. - -"But I _am_ going with you, Henry," says Jane. And she gets up jest like -she is going to put her arms around him. - -But Jane don't. Fur that chair swings clear around and there sets the -perfessor. He's all hunched up and caved in and he's rubbing his eyes -like he's jest woke up recent, and he's got a grin onto his face that -makes him look like his sister Estelle looks all the time. - -"Excuse me," says the perfessor. - -They both swings around and faces him. I can hear my heart bumping. Jane -never says a word. The man with the brown beard never says a word. But -if they felt like me they both felt like laying right down there and -having a fit. They looks at him and he jest sets there and grins at -them. - -But after a while Jane, she says: - -"Well, now you _know!_ What are you going to do about it?" - -Henry, he starts to say something too. But-- - -"Don't start anything," says the perfessor to him. "_You_ aren't going to -do anything." Or they was words to that effect. - -"Professor Booth," he says, seeing he has got to say something or else -Jane will think the worse of him, "I am--" - -"Keep still," says the perfessor, real quiet. "I'll tend to you in a -minute or two. _You_ don't count for much. This thing is mostly between me -and my wife." - -When he talks so decided I thinks mebby that perfessor has got something -into him besides science after all. Jane, she looks kind o' surprised -herself. But she says nothing, except: - -"What are you going to do, Frederick?" And she laughs one of them mean -kind of laughs, and looks at Henry like she wanted him to spunk up a -little more, and says: "What _can_ you do, Frederick?" - -Frederick, he says, not excited a bit: - -"There's quite a number of things I _could_ do that would look bad when -they got into the newspapers. But it's none of them, unless one of you -forces me to it." Then he says: - -"You _did_ want to see the children, Jane?" - -She nodded. - -"Jane," he says, "can't you see I'm the better man?" - -The perfessor, he was woke up after all them years of scientifics, and -he didn't want to see her go. "Look at him," he says, pointing to the -feller with the brown beard, "he's scared stiff right now." - -Which I would of been scared myself if I'd a-been ketched that-a-way -like Henry was, and the perfessor's voice sounding like you was chopping -ice every time he spoke. I seen the perfessor didn't want to have no -blood on the carpet without he had to have it, but I seen he was making -up his mind about something, too. Jane, she says: - -"_You_ a better man? _You_? You think you've been a model husband just -because you've never beaten me, don't you?" - -"No," says the perfessor, "I've been a blamed fool all right. I've been -a worse fool, maybe, than if I _had_ beaten you." Then he turns to Henry -and he says: - -"Duels are out of fashion, aren't they? And a plain killing looks bad in -the papers, doesn't it? Well, you just wait for me." With which he gets -up and trots out, and I hearn him running down stairs to his labertory. - -Henry, he'd ruther go now. He don't want to wait. But with Jane -a-looking at him he's shamed not to wait. It's his place to make some -kind of a strong action now to show Jane he is a great man. But he don't -do it. And Jane is too much of a thoroughbred to show him she expects -it. And me, I'm getting the fidgets and wondering to myself, "What is -that there perfessor up to now? Whatever it is, it ain't like no one -else. He is looney, that perfessor is. And she is kind o' looney, too. -I wonder if they is any one that ain't looney sometimes?" I been -around the country a good 'eal, too, and seen and hearn of some awful -remarkable things, and I never seen no one that wasn't more or less -looney when the _search us the femm_ comes into the case. Which is a Dago -word I got out'n a newspaper and it means: "Who was the dead gent's lady -friend?" And we all set and sweat and got the fidgets waiting fur that -perfessor to come back. - -Which he done with that Sister Estelle grin onto his face and a pill box -in his hand. They was two pills in the box. He says, placid and chilly: - -"Yes, sir, duels are out of fashion. This is the age of science. All the -same, the one that gets her has got to fight for her. If she isn't worth -fighting for, she isn't worth having. Here are two pills. I made 'em -myself. One has enough poison in it to kill a regiment when it gets to -working well--which it does fifteen minutes after it is taken. The other -one has got nothing harmful in it. If you get the poison one, I keep -her. If I get it, you can have her. Only I hope you will wait long -enough after I'm dead so there won't be any scandal around town." - -Henry, he never said a word. He opened his mouth, but nothing come of -it. When he done that I thought I hearn his tongue scrape agin his cheek -on the inside like a piece of sand-paper. He was scared, Henry was. - -"But _you_ know which is which," Jane sings out. "The thing's not fair!" - -"That is the reason my dear Jane is going to shuffle these pills around -each other herself," says the perfessor, "and then pick out one for him -and one for me. _You_ don't know which is which, Jane. And as he is the -favourite, he is going to get the first chance. If he gets the one I -want him to get, he will have just fifteen minutes to live after taking -it. In that fifteen minutes he will please to walk so far from my house -that he won't die near it and make a scandal. I won't have a scandal -without I have to. Everything is going to be nice and quiet and -respectable. The effect of the poison is similar to heart failure. No -one can tell the difference on the corpse. There's going to be no blood -anywhere. I will be found dead in my house in the morning with heart -failure, or else he will be picked up dead in the street, far enough -away so as to make no talk." Or they was words to that effect. - -He is rubbing it in considerable, I thinks, that perfessor is. I wonder -if I better jump in and stop the hull thing. Then I thinks: "No, it's -between them three." Besides, I want to see which one is going to get -that there loaded pill. I always been intrusted in games of chancet of -all kinds, and when I seen the perfessor was such a sport, I'm sorry I -been misjudging him all this time. - -Jane, she looks at the box, and she breathes hard and quick. - -"I won't touch 'em," she says. "I refuse to be a party to any murder of -that kind." - -"Huh? You do?" says the perfessor. "But the time when you might have -refused has gone by. You have made yourself a party to it already. -You're really the _main_ party to it. - -"But do as you like," he goes on. "I'm giving him more chance than I -ought to with those pills. I might shoot him, and I would, and then face -the music, if it wasn't for mixing the children up in the scandal, Jane. -If you want to see him get a fair chance, Jane, you've got to hand out -these pills, one to him and then one to me. _You_ must kill one or the -other of us, or else _I'll kill him_ the other way. And _you_ had better -pick one out for him, because _I_ know which is which. Or else let him -pick one out for himself," he says. - -Henry, he wasn't saying nothing. I thought he had fainted. But he -hadn't. I seen him licking his lips. I bet Henry's mouth was all dry -inside. - -Jane, she took the box and she went round in front of Henry and she -looked at him hard. She looked at him like she was thinking: "Fur God's -sake, spunk up some, and take one if it _does_ kill you!" Then she says -out loud: "Henry, if you die I will die, too!" - -And Henry, he took one. His hand shook, but he took it out'n the box. If -she had of looked like that at me mebby I would of took one myself. Fur -Jane, she was a peach, she was. But I don't know whether I would of or -not. When she makes that brag about dying, I looked at the perfessor. -What she said never fazed him. And I thinks agin: "Mebby I better jump -in now and stop this thing." And then I thinks agin: "No, it is between -them three and Providence." Besides, I'm anxious to see who is going -to get that pill with the science in it. I gets to feeling jest like -Providence hisself was in that there room picking out them pills with -his own hands. And I was anxious to see what Providence's ideas of right -and wrong was like. So fur as I could see they was all three in the -wrong, but if I had of been in there running them pills in Providence's -place I would of let them all off kind o' easy. - -Henry, he ain't eat his pill yet. He is jest looking at it and shaking. -The perfessor pulls out his watch and lays it on the table. - -"It is a quarter past eleven," he says. "Mr. Murray, are you going to -make me shoot you, after all? I didn't want a scandal," he says. "It's -for you to say whether you want to eat that pill and get your even -chance, or whether you want to get shot. The shooting method is sure, -but it causes talk. These pills won't _which_?" - -And he pulls a revolver. Which I suppose he had got that too when he -went down after them pills. - -Henry, he looks at the gun. - -Then he looks at the pill. - -Then he swallers the pill. - -The perfessor puts his gun back into his pocket, and then he puts his -pill into his mouth. He don't swaller it. He looks at the watch, and he -looks at Henry. - -"Sixteen minutes past eleven," he says. "_At exactly twenty-nine minutes -to twelve Mr. Murray will be dead_. I got the harmless one. I can tell by -the taste." - -And he put the pieces out into his hand, to show that he has chewed -his'n up, not being willing to wait fifteen minutes fur a verdict from -his digestive ornaments. Then he put them pieces back into his mouth and -chewed 'em up and swallered 'em down like he was eating cough drops. - -Henry has got sweat breaking out all over his face, and he tries to make -fur the door, but he falls down onto a sofa. - -"This is murder," he says, weak-like. And he tries to get up again, but -this time he falls to the floor in a dead faint. - -"It's a dern short fifteen minutes," I thinks to myself. "That perfessor -must of put more science into Henry's pill than he thought he did fur it -to of knocked him out this quick. It ain't skeercly three minutes." - -When Henry falls the woman staggers and tries to throw herself on top -of him. The corners of her mouth was all drawed down, and her eyes was -turned up. But she don't yell none. She can't. She tries, but she jest -gurgles in her throat. The perfessor won't let her fall acrost Henry. -He ketches her. "Sit up, Jane," he says, with that Estelle look onto his -face, "and let us have a talk." - -She looks at him with no more sense in her face than a piece of putty -has got. But she can't look away from him. - -And I'm kind o' paralyzed, too. If that feller laying on the floor -had only jest kicked oncet, or grunted, or done something, I could of -loosened up and yelled, and I would of. I jest _needed_ to fetch a yell. -But Henry ain't more'n dropped down there till I'm feeling jest like -he'd _always_ been there, and I'd _always_ been staring into that room, and -the last word any one spoke was said hundreds and hundreds of years ago. - -"You're a murderer," says Jane in a whisper, looking at the perfessor in -that stare-eyed way. "You're a _murderer_," she says, saying it like she -was trying to make herself feel sure he really was one. - -"Murder!" says the perfessor. "Did you think I was going to run any -chances for a pup like him? He's scared, that's all. He's just fainted -through fright. He's a coward. Those pills were both just bread and -sugar. He'll be all right in a minute or two. I've just been showing -you that the fellow hasn't got nerve enough nor brains enough for a fine -woman like you, Jane," he says. - -Then Jane begins to sob and laugh, both to oncet, kind o' wild like, her -voice clucking like a hen does, and she says: - -"It's worse then, it's worse! It's worse for me than if it were a -murder! Some farces can be more tragic than any tragedy ever was," she -says. Or they was words to that effect. - -And if Henry had of been really dead she couldn't of took it no harder -than she begun to take it now when she saw he was alive, but jest wasn't -no good. But I seen she was taking on fur herself now more'n fur Henry. -Doctor Kirby always use to say women is made unlike most other animals -in many ways. When they is foolish about a man they can stand to have -that man killed a good 'eal better than to have him showed up ridiculous -right in front of them. They will still be crazy about the man that is -dead, even if he was crooked. But they don't never forgive the fellow -that lets himself be made a fool and lets them look foolish, too. And -when the perfessor kicks Henry in the ribs, and Henry comes to and -sneaks out, Jane, she never even turns her head and looks at him. - -"Jane," says the perfessor, when she quiets down some, "you have a lot -o' things to forgive me. But do you suppose I have learned enough so -that we can make a go of it if we start all over again?" - -But Jane she never said nothing. - -"Jane," he says, "Estelle is going back to New England, as soon as -Margery gets well, and she will stay there for good." - -Jane, she begins to take a little intrust then. - -"Did Estelle tell you so?" she asts. - -"No," says the perfessor. "Estelle doesn't know it yet. I'm going to -break the news to her in the morning." - -But Jane still hates him. She's making herself hate him hard. She -wouldn't of been a human woman if she had let herself be coaxed up all -to oncet. Purty soon she says: "I'm tired." And she went out looking -like the perfessor was a perfect stranger. She was a peace, Jane was. - -After she left, the perfessor set there quite a spell and smoked. And he -was looking tired out, too. They wasn't no mistake about me. I was jest -dead all through my legs. - - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -I was down in the perfessor's labertory one day, and that was a queer -place. They was every kind of scientifics that has ever been discovered -in it. Some was pickled in bottles and some was stuffed and some was -pinned to the walls with their wings spread out. If you took hold of -anything, it was likely to be a skull and give you the shivers or some -electric contraption and shock you; and if you tipped over a jar and -it broke, enough germs might get loose to slaughter a hull town. I was -helping the perfessor to unpack a lot of stuff some friends had sent -him, and I noticed a bottle that had onto it, blowed in the glass: - -DANIEL, DUNNE AND COMPANY - -"That's funny," says I, out loud. - -"What is?" asts the perfessor. - -I showed him the bottle and told him how I was named after the company -that made 'em. He says to look around me. They is all kinds of glassware -in that room--bottles and jars and queer-shaped things with crooked tails -and noses--and nigh every piece of glass the perfessor owns is made by -that company. - -"Why," says the perfessor, "their factory is in this very town." - -And nothing would do fur me but I must go and see that factory. I -couldn't till the quarantine was pried loose from our house. But when it -was, I went down town and hunted up the place and looked her over. - -It was a big factory, and I was kind of proud of that. I was glad she -wasn't no measly, little, old-fashioned, run-down concern. Of course, -I wasn't really no relation to it and it wasn't none to me. But I -was named fur it, too, and it come about as near to being a fambly as -anything I had ever had or was likely to find. So I was proud it seemed -to be doing so well. - -I thinks as I looks at her of the thousands and thousands of bottles -that has been coming out of there fur years and years, and will be -fur years and years to come. And one bottle not so much different from -another one. And all that was really knowed about me was jest the name -on one out of all them millions and millions of bottles. It made me feel -kind of queer, when I thought of that, as if I didn't have no separate -place in the world any more than one of them millions of bottles. If any -one will shut his eyes and say his own name over and over agin fur quite -a spell, he will get kind of wonderized and mesmerized a-doing it--he -will begin to wonder who the dickens he is, anyhow, and what he is, and -what the difference between him and the next feller is. He will wonder -why he happens to be himself and the next feller _himself_. He wonders -where himself leaves off and the rest of the world begins. I been that -way myself--all wonderized, so that I felt jest like I was a melting -piece of the hull creation, and it was all shifting and drifting and -changing and flowing, and not solid anywhere, and I could hardly keep -myself from flowing into it. It makes a person feel awful queer, like -seeing a ghost would. It makes him feel like _he_ wasn't no solider than -a ghost himself. Well, if you ever done that and got that feeling, you -_know_ what I mean. All of a sudden, when I am trying to take in all -them millions and millions of bottles, it rushed onto me, that feeling, -strong. Thinking of them bottles had somehow brung it on. The bigness -of the hull creation, and the smallness of me, and the gait at which -everything was racing and rushing ahead, made me want to grab hold of -something solid and hang on. - -I reached out my hand, and it hit something solid all right. It was -a feller who was wheeling out a hand truck loaded with boxes from the -shipping department. I had been standing by the shipping department -door, and I reached right agin him. - -He wants to know if I am drunk or a blanked fool. So after some talk -of that kind I borrows a chew of tobacco of him and we gets right well -acquainted. - -I helped him finish loading his wagon and rode over to the freight depot -with him and helped him unload her. Lifting one of them boxes down from -the wagon I got such a shock I like to of dropped her. - -[Illustration: 0197] - -Fur she was marked so many dozen, glass, handle with care, and she was -addressed to Dr. Hartley L. Kirby, Atlanta, Ga. - -I managed to get that box onto the platform without busting her, and -then I sets down on top of her awful weak. - -"What's the matter?" asts the feller I was with. - -"Nothing," says I. - -"You look sick," he says. And I _was_ feeling that-a-way. - -"Mebby I do," says I, "and it's enough to shake a feller up to find a -dead man come to life sudden like this." - -"Great snakes, no!" says he, looking all around, "where?" - -But I didn't stop to chew the rag none. I left him right there, with his -mouth wide open, staring after me like I was crazy. Half a block away I -looked back and I seen him double over and slap his knee and laugh loud, -like he had hearn a big joke, but what he was laughing at I never knew. - -I was tickled. Tickled? Jest so tickled I was plumb foolish with it. The -doctor was alive after all--I kept saying it over and over to myself--he -hadn't drownded nor blowed away. And I was going to hunt him up. - -I had a little money. The perfessor had paid it to me. He had give me a -job helping take care of his hosses and things like that, and wanted me -to stay, and I had been thinking mebby I would fur a while. But not now! - -I calkelated I could grab a ride that very night that would put me into -Evansville the next morning. I figgered if I ketched a through freight -from there on the next night I might get where he was almost as quick as -them bottles did. - -I didn't think it was no use writing out my resignation fur the -perfessor. But I got quite a bit of grub from Biddy Malone to make a -start on, fur I didn't figger on spending no more money than I had to -on grub. She asts me a lot of questions, and I had to lie to her a -good deal, but I got the grub. And at ten that night I was in an empty -bumping along south, along with a cross-eyed feller named Looney Hogan -who happened to be travelling the same way. - -Riding on trains without paying fare ain't always the easy thing it -sounds. It is like a trade that has got to be learned. They is different -ways of doing it. I have done every way frequent, except one. That I -give up after trying her two, three times. That is riding the rods -down underneath the cars, with a piece of board put acrost 'em to lay -yourself on. - -I never want to go _anywheres_ agin bad enough to ride the rods. - -Because sometimes you arrive where you are going to partly smeared over -the trucks and in no condition fur to be made welcome to our city, as -Doctor Kirby would say. Sometimes you don't arrive. Every oncet in a -while you read a little piece in a newspaper about a man being found -alongside the tracks, considerable cut up, or laying right acrost them, -mebby. He is held in the morgue a while and no one knows who he is, and -none of the train crew knows they has run over a man, and the engineer -says they wasn't none on the track. More'n likely that feller has been -riding the rods, along about the middle of the train. Mebby he let -himself go to sleep and jest rolled off. Mebby his piece of board -slipped and he fell when the train jolted. Or mebby he jest natcherally -made up his mind he rather let loose and get squashed then get any more -cinders into his eyes. Riding the blind baggage or the bumpers gives me -all the excitement I wants, or all the gambling chancet either; others -can have the rods fur all of me. And they _is_ some people ackshally says -they likes 'em best. - -A good place, if it is winter time, is the feed rack over a cattle car, -fur the heat and steam from all them steers in there will keep you warm. -But don't crawl in no lumber car that is only loaded about half full, -and short lengths and bundles of laths and shingles in her; fur they -is likely to get to shifting and bumping. Baled hay is purty good -sometimes. Myself, not being like these bums that is too proud to -work, I have often helped the fireman shovel coal and paid fur my ride -that-a-way. But an empty, fur gineral purposes, will do about as well as -anything. - -This feller Looney Hogan that was with me was a kind of a harmless -critter, and he didn't know jest where he was going, nor why. He was -mostly scared of things, and if you spoke to him quick he shivered first -and then grinned idiotic so you wouldn't kick him, and when he talked -he had a silly little giggle. He had been made that-a-way in a reform -school where they took him young and tried to work the cussedness out'n -him by batting him around. They worked it out, and purty nigh everything -else along with it, I guess. Looney had had a pardner whose name was -Slim, he said; but a couple of years before Slim had fell overboard -off'n a barge up to Duluth and never come up agin. Looney knowed Slim -was drownded all right, but he was always travelling around looking -at tanks and freight depots and switch shanties, fur Slim's mark to be -fresh cut with a knife somewheres, so he would know where to foller and -ketch up with him agin. He knowed he would never find Slim's mark, he -said, but he kept a-looking, and he guessed that was the way he got the -name of Looney. - -Looney left me at Evansville. He said he was going east from there, he -guessed. And I went along south. But I was hindered considerable, being -put off of trains three or four times, and having to grab these here -slow local freights between towns all the way down through Kentuckey. -Anywheres south of the Ohio River and east of the Mississippi River -trainmen is grouchier to them they thinks is bums than north of it, -anyhow. And in some parts of it, if a real bum gets pinched, heaven help -'im, fur nothing else won't. - -One night, between twelve and one o'clock, I was put off of a freight -train fur the second time in a place in the northern part of Tennessee, -right near the Kentuckey line. I set down in a lumber yard near the -railroad track, and when she started up agin I grabbed onto the iron -ladder and swung myself aboard. But the brakeman was watching fur me, -and clumb down the ladder and stamped on my fingers. So I dropped off, -with one finger considerable mashed, and set down in that lumber yard -wondering what next. - -It was a dark night, and so fur as I could see they wasn't much moving -in that town. Only a few places was lit up. One was way acrost the town -square from me, and it was the telephone exchange, with a man operator -reading a book in there. The other was the telegraph room in the depot -about a hundred yards from me, and they was only two fellers in it, -both smoking. The main business part of the town was built up around the -square, like lots of old-fashioned towns is, and they was jest enough -brightness from four, five electric lights to show the shape of the -square and be reflected from the windows of the closed-up stores. - -I knowed they was likely a watchman somewheres about, too. I guessed -I wouldn't wander around none and run no chances of getting took up by -him. So I was getting ready to lay down on top of a level pile of boards -and go to sleep when I hearn a curious kind of noise a way off, like it -must be at the edge of town. - -It sounded like quite a bunch of cattle might shuffling along a dusty -road. The night was so quiet you could hear things plain from a long -ways off. It growed a little louder and a little nearer. And then it -struck a plank bridge somewheres, and come acrost it with a clatter. -Then I knowed it wasn't cattle. Cows and steers don't make that -cantering kind of noise as a rule; they trot. It was hosses crossing -that bridge. And they was quite a lot of 'em. - -As they struck the dirt road agin, I hearn a shot. And then another and -another. Then a dozen all to oncet, and away off through the night a -woman screamed. - -I seen the man in the telephone place fling down his book and grab a -pistol from I don't know where. He stepped out into the street and fired -three shots into the air as fast as he could pull the trigger. And as he -done so they was a light flashed out in a building way down the railroad -track, and shots come answering from there. Men's voices began to yell -out; they was the noise of people running along plank sidewalks, and -windows opening in the dark. Then with a rush the galloping noise come -nearer, come closet; raced by the place where I was hiding, and nigh -a hundred men with guns swept right into the middle of that square and -pulled their hosses up. - - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -I seen the feller from the telephone exchange run down the street a -little ways as the first rush hit the square, and fire his pistol twice. -Then he turned and made fur an alleyway, but as he turned they let him -have it. He throwed up his arms and made one long stagger, right acrost -the bar of light that streamed out of the windows, and he fell into the -shadder, out of sight, jest like a scorched moth drops dead into the -darkness from a torch. - -Out of the middle of that bunch of riders come a big voice, yelling -numbers, instead of men's names. Then different crowds lit out in all -directions--some on foot, while others held their hosses--fur they -seemed to have a plan laid ahead. - -And then things began to happen. They happened so quick and with such a -whirl it was all unreal to me--shots and shouts, and windows breaking as -they blazed away at the store fronts all around the square--and orders -and cuss-words ringing out between the noise of shooting--and those -electric lights shining on them as they tossed and trampled, and -showing up masked faces here and there--and pounding hoofs, and hosses -scream--like humans with excitement--and spurts of flame squirted sudden -out of the ring of darkness round about the open place--and a bull-dog -shut up in a store somewheres howling himself hoarse--and white puffs of -powder smoke like ghosts that went a-drifting by the lights--it was all -unreal to me, as if I had a fever and was dreaming it. That square was -like a great big stage in front of me, and I laid in the darkness on my -lumber pile and watched things like a show--not much scared because it -_was_ so derned unreal. - -From way down along the railroad track they come a sort of blunted roar, -like blasting big stumps out--and then another and another. Purty soon, -down that way, a slim flame licked up the side of a big building there, -and crooked its tongue over the top. Then a second big building right -beside it ketched afire, and they both showed up in their own light, big -and angry and handsome, and the light showed up the men in front of 'em, -too--guarding 'em, I guess, fur fear the town would get its nerve and -make a fight to put 'em out. They begun to light the whole town up as -light as day, and paint a red patch onto the sky, that must of been -noticed fur miles around. It was a mighty purty sight to see 'em burn. -The smoke was rolling high, too, and the sparks flying and other things -in danger of ketching, and after while a lick of smoke come drifting up -my way. I smelt her. It was tobacco burning in them warehouses. - -But that town had some fight in her, in spite of being took unexpected -that-a-way. It wasn't no coward town. The light from the burning -buildings made all the shadders around about seem all the darker. And -every once in a while, after the surprise of the first rush, they would -come thin little streaks of fire out of the darkness somewheres, and the -sound of shots. And then a gang of riders would gallop in that direction -shooting up all creation. But by the time the warehouses was all lit up -so that you could see they was no hope of putting them out the shooting -from the darkness had jest about stopped. - -It looked like them big tobacco warehouses was the main object of the -raid. Fur when they was burning past all chancet of saving, with walls -and floors a-tumbling and crashing down and sending up great gouts of -fresh flame as they fell, the leader sings out an order, and all that is -not on their hosses jumps on, and they rides away from the blaze. They -come across the square--not galloping now, but taking it easy, laughing -and talking and cussing and joking each other--and passed right by my -lumber pile agin and down the street they had come. You bet I laid low -on them boards while they was going by, and flattened myself out till I -felt like a shingle. - -As I hearn their hoof-sounds getting farther off, I lifts up my head -agin. But they wasn't all gone, either. Three that must of been up to -some pertic'ler deviltry of their own come galloping acrost the square -to ketch up with the main bunch. Two was quite a bit ahead of the third -one, and he yelled to them to wait. But they only laughed and rode -harder. - -And then fur some fool reason that last feller pulled up his hoss and -stopped. He stopped in the road right in front of me, and wheeled his -hoss acrost the road and stood up in his stirrups and took a long look -at that blaze. You'd 'a' said he had done it all himself and was mighty -proud of it, the way he raised his head and looked back at that town. He -was so near that I hearn him draw in a slow, deep breath. He stood still -fur most a minute like that, black agin the red sky, and then he turned -his hoss's head and jabbed him with his stirrup edge. - -Jest as the hoss started they come a shot from somewheres behind me. -I s'pose they was some one hid in the lumber piles, where the street -crossed the railway, besides myself. The hoss jumped forward at the -shot, and the feller swayed sideways and dropped his gun and lost his -stirrups and come down heavy on the ground. His hoss galloped off. I -heard the noise of some one running off through the dark, and stumbling -agin the lumber. It was the feller who had fired the shot running away. -I suppose he thought the rest of them riders would come back, when they -heard that shot, and hunt him down. - -I thought they might myself. But I laid there, and jest waited. If they -come, I didn't want to be found running. But they didn't come. The two -last ones had caught up with the main gang, I guess, fur purty soon -I hearn them all crossing that plank bridge agin, and knowed they was -gone. - -At first I guessed the feller on the ground must be dead. But he wasn't, -fur purty soon I hearn him groan. He had mebby been stunned by his fall, -and was coming to enough to feel his pain. - -I didn't feel like he orter be left there. So I clumb down and went over -to him. He was lying on one side all kind of huddled up. There had -been a mask on his face, like the rest of them, with some hair onto the -bottom of it to look like a beard. But now it had slipped down till it -hung loose around his neck by the string. They was enough light to see -he wasn't nothing but a young feller. He raised himself slow as I come -near him, leaning on one arm and trying to set up. The other arm hung -loose and helpless. Half setting up that-away he made a feel at his belt -with his good hand, as I come near. But that good arm was his prop, and -when he took it off the ground he fell back. His hand come away empty -from his belt. - -The big six-shooter he had been feeling fur wasn't in its holster, -anyhow. It had fell out when he tumbled. I picked it up in the road -jest a few feet from his shot-gun, and stood there with it in my hand, -looking down at him. - -"Well," he says, in a drawly kind of voice, slow and feeble, but looking -at me steady and trying to raise himself agin, "yo' can finish yo' -little job now--yo' shot me from the darkness, and now yo' done got my -pistol. I reckon yo' better shoot _agin_." - -"I don't want to rub it in none," I says, "with you down and out, but -from what I seen around this town to-night I guess you and your own gang -got no _great_ objections to shooting from the dark yourselves." - -"Why don't yo' shoot then?" he says. "It most suttinly is _yo_' turn now." -And he never batted an eye. - -"Bo," I says, "you got nerve. I _like_ you, Bo. I didn't shoot you, and I -ain't going to. The feller that did has went. I'm going to get you out -of this. Where you hurt?" - -"Hip," he says, "but that ain't much. The thing that bothers me is this -arm. It's done busted. I fell on it." - -I drug him out of the road and back of the lumber pile I had been laying -on, and hurt him considerable a-doing it. - -"Now," I says, "what can I do fur you?" - -"I reckon yo' better leave me," he says, "without yo' want to get -yo'self mixed up in all this." - -"If I do," I says, "you may bleed to death here: or anyway you would get -found in the morning and be run in." - -"Yo' mighty good to me," says he, "considering yo' are no kin to this -here part of the country at all. I reckon by yo' talk yo' are one of -them damn Yankees, ain't yo'?" - -In Illinoise a Yankee is some one from the East, but down South he is -anybody from north of the Ohio, and though that there war was fought -forty years ago some of them fellers down there don't know damn and -Yankee is two words yet. But shucks!--they don't mean no harm by it! So -I tells him I am a damn Yankee and asts him agin if I can do anything -fur him. - -"Yes," he says, "yo' can tell a friend of mine Bud Davis has happened -to an accident, and get him over here quick with his wagon to tote me -home." - -I was to go down the railroad track past them burning warehouses till -I come to the third street, and then turn to my left. "The third house -from the track has got an iron picket fence in front of it," says Bud, -"and it's the only house in that part of town which has. Beauregard -Peoples lives there. He is kin to me." - -"Yes," I says, "and Beauregard is jest as likely as not going to take a -shot out of the front window at me, fur luck, afore I can tell him what -I want. It seems to be a kind of habit in these here parts to-night--I'm -getting homesick fur Illinoise. But I'll take a chancet." - -"He won't shoot," says Bud, "if yo' go about it right. Beauregard ain't -going to be asleep with all this going on in town to-night. Yo' rattle -on the iron gate and he'll holler to know what yo' all want." - -"If he don't shoot first," I says. - -"When he hollers, yo' cry back at him yo' have found his _Old Dead Hoss_ -in the road. It won't hurt to holler that loud, and that will make him -let you within talking distance." - -"His old _dead hoss_?" - -"Yo' don't need to know what that is. _He_ will." And then Bud told -me enough of the signs and words to say, and things to do, to keep -Beauregard from shooting--he said he reckoned he had trusted me so much -he might as well go the hull hog. Beauregard, he says, belongs to them -riders too; they have friends in all the towns that watches the lay of -the land fur them, he says. - -I made a long half-circle around them burning buildings, keeping in the -dark, fur people was coming out in bunches, now that it was all over -with, watching them fires burning, and talking excited, and saying the -riders should be follered--only not follering. - -I found the house Bud meant, and they was a light in the second-story -window. I rattled on the gate. A dog barked somewheres near, but I hearn -his chain jangle and knowed he was fast, and I rattled on the gate agin. - -The light moved away from the window. Then another front window opened -quiet, and a voice says: - -"Doctor, is that yo' back agin?" - -"No," I says, "I ain't a doctor." - -"Stay where you are, then. _I got you covered_." - -"I am staying," I says, "don't shoot." - -"Who are yo'?" - -"A feller," I says, kind of sensing his gun through the darkness as I -spoke, "who has found your _old dead hoss_ in the road." - -He didn't answer fur several minutes. Then he says, using the words _dead -hoss_ as Bud had said he would. - -"A _dead hoss_ is fitten fo' nothing but to skin." - -"Well," I says, using the words fur the third time, as instructed, "it -is a _dead hoss_ all right." - -I hearn the window shut and purty soon the front door opened. - -"Come up here," he says. I come. - -"Who rode that hoss yo' been talking about?" he asts. - -"One of the _Silent Brigade_," I tells him, as Bud had told me to say. I -give him the grip Bud had showed me with his good hand. - -"Come on in," he says. - -He shut the door behind us and lighted a lamp agin. And we looked each -other over. He was a scrawny little feller, with little gray eyes set -near together, and some sandy-complected whiskers on his chin. I told -him about Bud, and what his fix was. - -"Damn it--oh, damn it all," he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I -don't see how on _airth_ I kin do it. My wife's jest had a baby. Do yo' -hear that?" - -And I did hear a sound like kittens mewing, somewheres up stairs. -Beauregard, he grinned and rubbed his nose some more, and looked at me -like he thought that mewing noise was the smartest sound that ever was -made. - -"Boy," he says, grinning, "bo'n five hours ago. I've done named him -Burley--after the tobaccer association, yo' know. Yes, _sir_, Burley -Peoples is his name--and he shore kin squall, the derned little cuss!" - -"Yes," I says, "you better stay with Burley. Lend me a rig of some sort -and I'll take Bud home." - -So we went out to Beauregard's stable with a lantern and hitched up one -of his hosses to a light road wagon. He went into the house and come -back agin with a mattress fur Bud to lie on, and a part of a bottle of -whiskey. And I drove back to that lumber pile. I guess I nearly killed -Bud getting him into there. But he wasn't bleeding much from his hip--it -was his arm was giving him fits. - -We went slow, and the dawn broke with us four miles out of town. It was -broad daylight, and early morning noises stirring everywheres, when we -drove up in front of an old farmhouse, with big brick chimbleys built on -the outside of it, a couple of miles farther on. - - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -As I drove into the yard, a bare-headed old nigger with a game leg -throwed down an armful of wood he was gathering and went limping up -to the veranda as fast as he could. He opened the door and bawled out, -pointing to us, before he had it fairly open: - -"O Marse _Will_yum! O Miss _Lucy_! Dey've brung him home! _Dar_ he!" - -[Illustration: 0217] - -A little, bright, black-eyed old lady like a wren comes running out of -the house, and chirps: - -"O Bud--O my honey boy! Is he dead?" - -"I reckon not, Miss Lucy," says Bud raising himself up on the mattress -as she runs up to the wagon, and trying to act like everything was all -a joke. She was jest high enough to kiss him over the edge of the wagon -box. A worried-looking old gentleman come out the door, seen Bud and his -mother kissing each other, and then says to the old nigger man: - -"George, yo' old fool, what do yo' mean by shouting out like that?" - -"Marse Willyum--" begins George, explaining. - -"Shut up," says the old gentleman, very quiet. "Take the bay mare and go -for Doctor Po'ter." Then he comes to the wagon and says: - -"So they got yo', Bud? Yo' _would_ go nightriding like a rowdy and a thug! -Are yo' much hurt?" - -He said it easy and gentle, more than mad. But Bud, he flushed up, pale -as he was, and didn't answer his dad direct. He turned to his mother and -said: - -"Miss Lucy, dear, it would 'a' done yo' heart good to see the way them -trust warehouses blazed up!" - -And the old lady, smiling and crying both to oncet, says, "God bless her -brave boy." But the old gentleman looked mighty serious, and his worry -settled into a frown between his eyes, and he turns to me and says: - -"Yo' must pardon us, sir, fo' neglecting to thank yo' sooner." I told -him that would be all right, fur him not to worry none. And him and me -and Mandy, which was the nigger cook, got Bud into the house and into -his bed. And his mother gets that busy ordering Mandy and the old -gentleman around, to get things and fix things, and make Bud as easy -as she could, that you could see she was one of them kind of woman that -gets a lot of satisfaction out of having some one sick to fuss over. And -after quite a while George gets back with Doctor Porter. - -He sets Bud's arm, and he locates the bullet in him, and he says he -guesses he'll do in a few weeks if nothing like blood poisoning nor -gangrene nor inflammation sets in. - -Only the doctor says he "reckons" instead of he "guesses," which they -all do down there. And they all had them easy-going, wait-a-bit kind -of voices, and didn't see no pertic'ler importance in their "r's." It -wasn't that you could spell it no different when they talked, but it -sounded different. - -I eat my breakfast with the old gentleman, and then I took a sleep until -time fur dinner. They wouldn't hear of me leaving that night. I fully -intended to go on the next day, but before I knowed it I been there a -couple of days, and have got very well acquainted with that fambly. - -Well, that was a house divided agin itself. Miss Lucy, she is awful -favourable to all this nightrider business. She spunks up and her eyes -sparkles whenever she thinks about that there tobaccer trust. - -She would of like to been a night-rider herself. But the old man, he -says law and order is the main pint. What the country needs, he says, -ain't burning down tobaccer warehouses, and shooting your neighbours, -and licking them with switches, fur no wrong done never righted another -wrong. - -"But you were in the Ku Klux Klan yo'self," says Miss Lucy. - -The old man says the Ku Kluxes was working fur a principle--the -principle of keeping the white supremacy on top of the nigger race. Fur -if you let 'em quit work and go around balloting and voting it won't -do. It makes 'em biggity. And a biggity nigger is laying up trouble fur -himself. Because sooner or later he will get to thinking he is as good -as one of these here Angle-Saxtons you are always hearing so much talk -about down South. And if the Angle-Saxtons was to stand fur that, purty -soon they would be sociable equality. And next the hull dern country -would be niggerized. Them there Angle-Saxtons, that come over from -Ireland and Scotland and France and the Great British Islands and -settled up the South jest simply couldn't afford to let that happen, he -says, and so they Ku Kluxed the niggers to make 'em quit voting. It was -_their_ job to _make_ law and order, he says, which they couldn't be with -niggers getting the idea they had a right to govern. So they Ku Kluxed -'em like gentlemen. But these here night-riders, he says, is _agin_ law -and order--they can shoot up more law and order in one night than can be -manufactured agin in ten years. He was a very quiet, peaceable old man, -Mr. Davis was, and Bud says he was so dern foolish about law and order -he had to up and shoot a man, about fifteen years ago, who hearn him -talking that-a-way and said he reminded him of a Boston school teacher. - -But Miss Lucy and Bud, they tells me what all them night-ridings is -fur. It seems this here tobaccer trust is jest as mean and low-down and -unprincipled as all the rest of them trusts. The farmers around there -raised considerable tobaccer--more'n they did of anything else. The -trust had shoved the price so low they couldn't hardly make a living. -So they organized and said they would all hold their tobaccer fur a fair -price. But some of the farmers wouldn't organize--said they had a right -to do what they pleased with their own tobaccer. So the night-riders was -formed to burn their barns and ruin their crops and whip 'em and shoot -'em and make 'em jine. And also to burn a few trust warehouses now and -then, and show 'em this free American people, composed mainly out of the -Angle-Saxton races, wasn't going to take no sass from anybody. - -An old feller by the name of Rufe Daniels who wouldn't jine the -night-riders had been shot to death on his own door step, jest about a -mile away, only a week or so before. The night-riders mostly used these -here automatic shot-guns, but they didn't bother with birdshot. They -mostly loaded their shells with buckshot. A few bicycle ball bearings -dropped out of old Rufe when they gathered him up and got him into shape -to plant. They is always some low-down cuss in every crowd that carries -things to the point where they get brutal, Bud says; and he feels like -them bicycle bearings was going a little too fur, though he wouldn't let -on to his dad that he felt that-a-way. - -So fur as I could see they hadn't hurt the trust none to speak of, them -night-riders. But they had done considerable damage to their own county, -fur folks was moving away, and the price of land had fell. Still, I -guess they must of got considerable satisfaction out of raising the -deuce nights that-away; and sometimes that is worth a hull lot to a -feller. As fur as I could make out both the trust and the night-riders -was in the wrong. But, you take 'em one at a time, personal-like, and -not into a gang, and most of them night-riders is good-dispositioned -folks. I never knowed any trusts personal, but mebby if you could ketch -'em the same way they would be similar. - -I asts George one day what he thought about it. George, he got mighty -serious right off, like he felt his answer was going to be used to -decide the hull thing by. He was carrying a lot of scraps on a plate to -a hound dog that had a kennel out near George's cabin, and he walled his -eyes right thoughtful, and scratched his head with the fork he had been -scraping the plate with, but fur a while nothing come of it. Finally -George says: - -"I'se 'spec' mah jedgment des about de same as Marse _Will_yum's an' Miss -_Lucy_'s. I'se notice hit mos' ingin'lly am de same." - -"That can't be, George," says I, "fur they think different ways." - -"Den if _dat_ am de case," says George, "dey ain't NO ONE kin settle hit -twell hit settles hitse'f. - -"I'se mos' ingin'lly notice a thing _do_ settle hitse'f arter a while. -Yass, _sah_, I'se notice dat! Long time ago dey was consid'ble gwines-on -in dis hyah county, Marse Daniel. I dunno ef yo' evah heah 'bout dat o' -not, Marse Daniel, but dey was a wah fit right hyah in dis hyah county. -Such gwines-on as nevah was--dem dar Yankees a-ridin' aroun' an' eatin' -up de face o' de yearth, like de plagues o' Pha'aoah, Marse Daniel, and -rippin' and rarin' an' racin' an' stealin' evehything dey could lay -dey han's on, Marse Daniel. An' ouah folks a-ridin' and a racin' and -projickin' aroun' in de same onsettled way. - -"Marse Willyum, he 'low _he_ gwine settle dat dar wah he-se'f--yass, _sah!_ -An' he got on he hoss, and he ride away an' jine Marse Jeb Stuart. But -dey don' settle hit. Marse Ab'ham Linkum, he 'low _he_ gwine settle hit, -an' sen' millyums an' millyums mo' o' dem Yankees down hyah, Marse -Daniel. But dey des _on_settle hit wuss'n evah! But arter a while it des -settle _hit_se'f. - -"An' den freedom broke out among de niggers, and dey was mo' -gwines-_on_, an' talkin', an' some on 'em 'lowed dey was gwine ter -be no mo' wohk, Marse Daniel. But arter a while dat settle -_hit_se'f, and dey all went back to wohk agin. Den some on de -niggers gits de notion, Marse Daniel, dey gwine foh to _vote_. An' -dey was mo' gwines-on, an' de Ku Kluxes come a projickin' aroun' nights, -like de grave-yahds done been resu'rected, Marse Daniel, an' den arter a -while dat trouble settle _hit_se'f. - -"Den arter de Ku Kluxes dey was de time Miss Lucy Buckner gwine ter mahy -Marse Prent McMakin. An' she don' want to ma'hy him, if dey give her her -druthers about hit. But Ol' Marse Kunnel Hampton, her gram-pa, and her -aunt, _my_ Miss Lucy hyah, dey ain't gwine give her no druthers. And dey -was mo' gwines-_on_. But dat settle _hit_se'f, too." - -George, he begins to chuckle, and I ast him how. - -"Yass, _sah_, dat settle _hit_se'f. But I 'spec' Miss Lucy Buckner done -he'p some in de settle_ment_. Foh de day befoh de weddin' was gwine ter -be, she ups an' she runs off wid a Yankee frien' of her brother, Kunnel -Tom Buckner. An' I'se 'spec' Kunnel Tom an' Marse Prent McMakin would o' -settle' _him_ ef dey evah had o' cotched him--dat dar David Ahmstrong!" - -"Who?" says I. - -"David Ahmstrong was his entitlement," says George, "an' he been gwine -to de same college as Marse Tom Buckner, up no'th somewhah. Dat's -how-come he been visitin' Marse Tom des befoh de weddin' trouble done -settle _hit_ se'f dat-away." - -Well, it give me quite a turn to run onto the mention of that there -David Armstrong agin in this part of the country. Here he had been -jilting Miss Hampton way up in Indiany, and running away with another -girl down here in Tennessee. Then it struck me mebby it is jest -different parts of the same story I been hearing of, and Martha had got -her part a little wrong. - -"George," I says, "what did you say Miss Lucy Buckner's gran-dad's name -was?" - -"Kunnel Hampton--des de same as _my_ Miss Lucy befo' _she_ done ma'hied -Marse Willyum." - -That made me sure of it. It was the same woman. She had run away with -David Armstrong from this here same neighbourhood. Then after he got -her up North he had left her--or her left him. And then she wasn't -Miss Buckner no longer. And she was mad and wouldn't call herself Mrs. -Armstrong. So she moved away from where any one was lible to trace her -to, and took her mother's maiden name, which was Hampton. - -"Well," I says, "what ever become of 'em after they run off, George?" - -But George has told about all he knows. They went North, according to -what everybody thinks, he says. Prent McMakin, he follered and hunted. -And Col. Tom Buckner, he done the same. Fur about a year Colonel Tom, -he was always making trips away from there to the North. But whether he -ever got any track of his sister and that David Armstrong nobody knowed. -Nobody never asked him. Old Colonel Hampton, he grieved and he grieved, -and not long after the runaway he up and died. And Tom Buckner, he -finally sold all he owned in that part of the country and moved further -south. George said he didn't rightly know whether it was Alabama or -Florida. Or it might of been Georgia. - -I thinks to myself that mebby Mrs. Davis would like to know where her -niece is, and that I better tell her about Miss Hampton being in that -there little Indiany town, and where it is. And then I thinks to myself -I better not butt in. Fur Miss Hampton has likely got her own reasons -fur keeping away from her folks, or else she wouldn't do it. Anyhow, -it's none of _my_ affair to bring the subject up to 'em. It looks to -me like one of them things George has been gassing about--one of them -things that has settled itself, and it ain't fur me to meddle and -unsettle it. - -It set me to thinking about Martha, too. Not that I hadn't thought of -her lots of times. I had often thought I would write her. But I kept -putting it off, and purty soon I kind of forgot Martha. I had seen a lot -of different girls of all kinds since I had seen Martha. Yet, whenever -I happened to think of Martha, I had always liked her best. Only moving -around the country so much makes it kind of hard to keep thinking steady -of the same girl. Besides, I had lost that there half of a ring, too. - -But knowing what I did now about Miss Hampton being Miss Buckner--or -Mrs. Armstrong--and related to these Davises made me want to get away -from there. Fur that secret made me feel kind of sneaking, like I wasn't -being frank and open with them. Yet if I had of told 'em I would of felt -sneakinger yet fur giving Miss Hampton away. I never got into a mix up -that-a-way betwixt my conscience and my duty but what it made me feel -awful uncomfortable. So I guessed I would light out from there. They -wasn't never no kinder, better people than them Davises, either. They -was so pleased with my bringing Bud home the night he was shot they -would of jest natcherally give me half their farm if I had of ast them -fur it. They wanted me to stay there--they didn't say fur how long, and -I guess they didn't give a dern. But I was in a sweat to ketch up with -Doctor Kirby agin. - - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -I made purty good time, and in a couple of days I was in Atlanta. I -knowed the doctor must of gone back into some branch of the medicine -game--the bottles told me that. I knowed it must be something that he -needed some special kind of bottles fur, too, or he wouldn't of had them -shipped all that distance, but would of bought them nearer. I seen I was -a dern fool fur rushing off and not inquiring what kind of bottles, so I -could trace what he was into easier. - -It's hard work looking fur a man in a good-sized town. I hung around -hotel lobbies and places till I was tired of it, thinking he might -come in. And I looked through all the office buildings and read all the -advertisements in the papers. Then the second day I was there the state -fair started up and I went out to it. - -I run acrost a couple I knowed out there the first thing--it was Watty -and the snake-charmer woman. Only she wasn't charming them now. Her and -Watty had a Parisian Models' show. I ast Watty where Dolly was. He says -he don't know, that Dolly has quit him. By which I guess he means he has -quit her. I ast where Reginald is, and the Human Ostrich. But from -the way they answered my questions I seen I wasn't welcome none around -there. I suppose that Mrs. Ostrich and Watty had met up agin somewheres, -and had jest natcherally run off with each other and left their -famblies. Like as not she had left poor old Reginald with that idiotic -ostrich feller to sell to strangers that didn't know his disposition. Or -mebby by now Reginald was turned loose in the open country to shift -fur himself, among wild snakes that never had no human education nor -experience; and what chancet would a friendly snake like Reginald have -in a gang like that? Some women has jest simply got no conscience at all -about their husbands and famblies, and that there Mrs. Ostrich was one -of 'em. - -Well, a feller can be a derned fool sometimes. Fur all my looking around -I wasted a lot of time before I thought of going to the one natcheral -place--the freight depot of the road them bottles had been shipped by. -I had lost a week coming down. But freight often loses more time than -that. And it was at the freight depot that I found him. - -Tickled? Well, yes! Both of us. - -"Well, by George," says he, "you're good for sore eyes." - -Before he told me how he happened not to of drownded or blowed away or -anything he says we better fix up a bit. Which he meant I better. So he -buys me duds from head to heel, and we goes to a Turkish bath place and -I puts 'em on. And then we goes and eats. Hearty. - -"Now," he says, "Fido Cut-up, how did you find me?" * - -I told him about the bottles. - -"A dead loss, those bottles," he says. "I wanted some non-refillable -ones for a little scheme I had in mind, and I had to get them at a -certain place--and now the scheme's up in the air and I can't use 'em." - -The doctor had changed some in looks in the year or more that had passed -since I saw him floating away in that balloon. And not fur the better. -He told me how he had blowed clean acrost Lake Erie in that there -balloon. And then when he got over land agin and went to pull the -cord that lets the parachute loose it wouldn't work at first. He jest -natcherally drifted on into the midst of nowhere, he said--miles and -miles into Canada. When he lit the balloon had lost so much gas and was -flying so low that the parachute didn't open out quick enough to do -much floating. So he lit hard, and come near being knocked out fur good. -But-- - - *_Author's Note_--Can it be that Danny struggles vaguely - to report some reference to _fidus achates_? - -that wasn't the worst of it, fur the exposure had crawled into his lungs -by the time he found a house, and he got newmonia into them also, and -like to of died. Whilst I was laying sick he had been sick also, only -his'n lasted much longer. - -But he tells me he has jest struck an idea fur a big scheme. No little -schemes go fur him any more, he says. He wants money. Real money. - -"How you going to get it?" I asts him. - -"Come along and I'll tell you," he says. "We'll take a walk, and I'll -show you how I got my idea." - -We left the restaurant and went along the brag street of that town, -which it is awful proud of, past where the stores stops and the houses -begins. We come to a fine-looking house on a corner--a swell place it -was, with lots of palms and ferns and plants setting on the verandah -and showing through the windows. And stables back of it; and back of -the stables a big yard with noises coming from it like they was circus -animals there. Which I found out later they really was, kept fur pets. -You could tell the people that lived there had money. - -"This," says Doctor Kirby, as we walked by, "is the house that Jackson -built. Dr. Julius Jackson--_old_ Doctor Jackson, the man with an idea! The -idea made all the money you smell around here." - -[Illustration: 0235] - -"What idea?" - -"The idea--the glorious humanitarian and philanthropic idea--of taking -the kinks and curls out of the hair of the Afro-American brother," says -Doctor Kirby, "at so much per kink." - -This Doctor Jackson, he says, sells what he calls Anti-Curl to the -niggers. It is to straighten out their hair so it will look like white -people's hair. They is millions and millions of niggers, and every -nigger has millions and millions of kinks, and so Doctor Jackson has -got rich at it. So rich he can afford to keep that there personal circus -menagerie in his back yard, for his little boy to play with, and many -other interesting things. He must be worth two, three million dollars, -Doctor Kirby says, and still a-making it, with more niggers growing up -all the time fur to have their hair unkinked. Especially mulattoes -and yaller niggers. Doctor Kirby says thinking what a great idea that -Anti-Curl was give him his own great idea. They is a gold mine there, he -says, and Dr. Julius Jackson has only scratched a little off the top of -it, but _he_ is going to dig deeper. - -"Why is it that the Afro-American brother buys Anti-Curl?" he asts. - -"Why?" I asts. - -"Because," he says, "he wants to be as much like a white man as he -possibly can. He strives to burst his birth's invidious bar, Danny. -They talk about progress and education for the Afro-American brother, and -uplift and advancement and industrial education and manual training -and all that sort of thing. Especially we Northerners. But what the -Afro-American brother thinks about and dreams about and longs for and -prays to be--when he thinks at all--is to be white. Education, to his -mind, is learning to talk like a white man. Progress means aping the -white man. Religion is dying and going to heaven and being a _white_ -angel--listen to his prayers and sermons and you'll find that out. He'll -do anything he can, or give anything he can get his Ethiopian grubhooks -on, for something that he thinks is going to make him more like a white -man. Poor devil! Therefore the millions of Doctor Jackson Anti-Curl. - -"All this Doctor Jackson Anti-Curl has discovered and thought out and -acted upon. If he had gone just one step farther the Afro-American -brother would have hailed him as a greater man than Abraham Lincoln, -or either of the Washingtons, George or Booker. It remains for me, -Danny--for _us_--to carry the torch ahead--to take up the work where the -imagination of Doctor Jackson Anti-Curl has laid it down." - -"How?" asts I. - -"_We'll put up and sell a preparation to turn the negroes white!_" - -_That_ was his great idea. He was more excited over it than I ever seen -him before about anything. - -It sounded like so easy a way to get rich it made me wonder why no one -had ever done it before, if it could really be worked. I didn't believe -much it could be worked. - -But Doctor Kirby, he says he has begun his experiments already, with -arsenic. Arsenic, he says, will bleach anything. Only he is kind of -afraid of arsenic, too. If he could only get hold of something that -didn't cost much, and that would whiten them up fur a little while, he -says, it wouldn't make no difference if they did get black agin. This -here Anti-Curl stuff works like that--it takes the kinks out fur a -little while, and they come back agin. But that don't seem to hurt the -sale none. It only calls fur _more_ of Doctor Jackson's medicine. - -The doctor takes me around to the place he boards at, and shows me a -nigger waiter he has been experimenting on. He had paid the nigger's -fine in a police court fur slashing another nigger some with a knife, -and kept him from going into the chain-gang. So the nigger agreed he -could use his hide to try different kinds of medicines on. He was a -velvety-looking, chocolate-coloured kind of nigger to start with, and -the best Doctor Kirby had been able to do so fur was to make a few -little liver-coloured spots come onto him. But it was making the nigger -sick, and the doctor was afraid to go too fur with it, fur Sam might die -and we would be at the expense of another nigger. Peroxide of hidergin -hadn't even phased him. Nor a lot of other things we tried onto him. - -You never seen a nigger with his colour running into him so deep as -Sam's did. Sam, he was always apologizing about it, too. You could see -it made him feel real bad to think his colour was so stubborn. He felt -like it wasn't being polite to the doctor and me, Sam did, fur his skin -to act that-a-way. He was a willing nigger, Sam was. The doctor, he says -he will find out the right stuff if he has to start at the letter A and -work Sam through every drug in the hull blame alphabet down to Z. - -Which he finally struck it. I don't exactly know what she had in her, -but she was a mixture of some kind. The only trouble with her was she -didn't work equal and even--left Sam's face looking peeled and spotty in -places. But still, in them spots, Sam was six shades lighter. -The doctor says that is jest what he wants, that there -passing on-to-the-next-cage-we-have-the-spotted-girocutus-look, as he -calls it. The chocolate brown and the lighter spots side by side, he -says, made a regular Before and After out of Sam's face, and was the -best advertisement you could have. - -Then we goes and has a talk with Doctor Jackson himself. Doctor Kirby -has the idea mebby he will put some money into it. Doctor Jackson was -setting on his front veranda with his chair tilted back, and his feet, -with red carpet slippers on 'em, was on the railing, and he was smoking -one of these long black cigars that comes each one in a little glass -tube all by itself. He looks Sam over very thoughtful, and he says: - -"Yes, it will do the work well enough. I can see that. But will it -sell?" - -Doctor Kirby makes him quite a speech. I never hearn him make a better -one. Doctor Jackson he listens very calm, with his thumbs in the -armholes of his vest, and moving his eyebrows up and down like he -enjoyed it. But he don't get excited none. Finally Doctor Kirby says he -will undertake to show that it will sell--me and him will take a trip -down into the black country ourselves and show what can be done with it, -and take Sam along fur an object lesson. - -Well, they was a lot of rag-chewing. Doctor Jackson don't warm up none, -and he asts a million questions. Like how much it costs a bottle to make -it, and what was our idea how much it orter sell fur. He says finally -if we can sell a certain number of bottles in so long a time he will put -some money into it. Only, he says, they will be a stock company, and he -will have to have fifty-one per cent. of the stock, or he won't put no -money into it. He says if things go well he will let Doctor Kirby be -manager of that company, and let him have some stock in it too, and he -will be president and treasurer of it himself. - -Doctor Kirby, he didn't like that, and said so. Said _he_ was going to -organize that stock company, and control it himself. But Doctor Jackson -said he never put money into nothing he couldn't run. So it was settled -we would give the stuff a try-out and report to him. Before we went away -from there it looked to me like Doctor Kirby and me was going to work -fur this here Doctor Jackson, instead of making all them there millions -fur ourselves. Which I didn't take much to that Anti-Curl man myself; he -was so cold-blooded like. - -I didn't like the scheme itself any too well, neither. Not any way you -could look at it. In the first place it seemed like a mean trick on the -niggers. Then I didn't much believe we could get away with it. - -The more I looked him over the more I seen Doctor Kirby had changed -considerable. When I first knowed him he liked to hear himself talking -and he liked to live free and easy and he liked to be running around -the country and all them things, more'n he liked to be making money. -Of course, he wanted it; but that wasn't the _only_ thing he was into the -Sagraw game fur. If he had money, he was free with it and would help -most any one out of a hole. But he wasn't thinking it and talking it all -the time then. - -But now he was thinking money and dreaming money and talking of nothing -but how to get it. And planning to make it out of skinning them niggers. -He didn't care a dern how he worked on their feelings to get it. He -didn't even seem to care whether he killed Sam trying them drugs onto -him. He wanted _money_, and he wanted it so bad he was ready and willing -to take up with most any wild scheme to make it. - -They was something about him now that didn't fit in much with the Doctor -Kirby I had knowed. It seemed like he had spells when he saw himself how -he had changed. He wasn't gay and joking all the time like he had been -before, neither. I guess the doctor was getting along toward fifty years -old. I suppose he thought if he was ever going to get anything out of -his gift of the gab he better settle down to something, and quit fooling -around, and do it right away. But it looked to me like he might never -turn the trick. Fur he was drinking right smart all the time. Drinking -made him think a lot, and thinking was making him look old. He was -more'n one year older than he had been a year ago. - -He kept a quart bottle in his room now. The night after we had took Sam -to see Doctor Jackson we was setting in his room, and he was hitting it -purty hard. - -"Danny," he says to me, after a while, like he was talking out loud to -himself too, "what did you think of Doctor Jackson?" - -"I don't like him much," I says. - -"Nor I," he says, frowning, and takes a drink. Then he says, after quite -a few minutes of frowning and thinking, under his breath like: "He's a -blame sight more decent than I am, for all of that." - -"Why?" I asts him. - -"Because Doctor Jackson," he says, "hasn't the least idea that he _isn't_ -decent, and getting his money in a decent way. While at one time I -was--" - -He breaks off and don't say what he was. I asts him. "I was going to -say a gentleman," he says, "but on reflection, I doubt if I was ever -anything but a cheap imitation. I never heard a man say that he was -a gentleman at one time, that I didn't doubt him. Also," he goes on, -working himself into a better humour again with the sound of his own -voice, "if I _had_ ever been a gentleman at any time, enough of it would -surely have stuck to me to keep me out of partnership with a man who -cheats niggers." - -He takes another drink and says even twenty years of running around the -country couldn't of took all the gentleman out of him like this, if he -had ever been one, fur you can break, you can scatter the vase if you -will, but the smell of the roses will stick round it still. - -I seen now the kind of conversations he is always having with himself -when he gets jest so drunk and is thinking hard. Only this time it -happens to be out loud. - -"What is a gentleman?" I asts him, thinking if he wasn't one it might -take his mind off himself a little to tell me. "What _makes_ one?" - -"Authorities differ," says Doctor Kirby, slouching down in his chair, -and grinning like he knowed a joke he wasn't going to tell no one. "I -heard Doctor Jackson describe himself that way the other day." - -Well, speaking personal, I never had smelled none of roses. I wasn't -nothing but trash myself, so being a gentleman didn't bother me one way -or the other. The only reason I didn't want to see them niggers bunked -so very bad was only jest because it was such a low-down, ornery kind of -trick. - -"It ain't too late," I says, "to pull out of this nigger scheme yet and -get into something more honest." - -"I don't know," he says thoughtful. "I think perhaps it _is_ too late." -And he sets there looking like a man that is going over a good many -years of life in his mind. Purty soon he says: - -"As far as honesty goes--it isn't that so much, O -Daniel-come-to-judgment! It's about as honest as most medicine games. -It's--" He stopped and frowned agin. - -"What is it?" - -"It's their being _niggers_," he says. - -That made the difference fur me, too. I dunno how, nor why. - -"I've tried nearly everything but blackmail," he says, "and I'll -probably be trying that by this time next year, if this scheme fails. -But there's something about their being niggers that makes me sick of -this thing already--just as the time has come to make the start. And -I don't know _why_ it should, either." He slipped another big slug of -whiskey into him, and purty soon he asts me: - -"Do you know what's the matter with me?" - -I asts him what. - -"I'm too decent to be a crook," he says, "and too crooked to be decent. -You've got to be one thing or the other steady to make it pay." - -Then he says: - -"Did you ever hear of the descent to Avernus, Danny?" - -"I might," I tells him, "and then agin I mightn't, but if I ever did, I -don't remember what she is. What is she?" - -"It's the chute to the infernal regions," he says. "They say it's -greased. But it isn't. It's really no easier sliding down than it is -climbing back." - -Well, I seen this nigger scheme of our'n wasn't the only thing that was -troubling Doctor Kirby that night. It was thinking of all the schemes -like it in the years past he had went into, and how he had went into 'em -light-hearted and more'n half fur fun when he was a young man, and -now he wasn't fitten fur nothing else but them kind of schemes, and he -knowed it. He was seeing himself how he had been changing, like another -person could of seen it. That's the main trouble with drinking to fergit -yourself. You fergit the wrong part of yourself. - -I left him purty soon, and went along to bed. My room was next to his'n, -and they was a door between, so the two could be rented together if -wanted, I suppose. I went to sleep and woke up agin with a start out of -a dream that had in it millions and millions and millions of niggers, -every way you looked, and their mouths was all open red and their eyes -walled white, fit to scare you out of your shoes. - -I hearn Doctor Kirby moving around in his room. But purty soon he sets -down and begins to talk to himself. Everything else was quiet. I was -kind of worried about him, he had taken so much, and hoped he wouldn't -get a notion to go downtown that time o' night. So I thinks I will see -how he is acting, and steps over to the door between the rooms. - -The key happened to be on my side, and I unlocked it. But she only opens -a little ways, fur his wash stand was near to the hinge end of the door. - -I looked through. He is setting by the table, looking at a woman's -picture that is propped up on it, and talking to himself. He has never -hearn me open the door, he is so interested. But somehow, he don't look -drunk. He looks like he had fought his way up out of it, somehow--his -forehead was sweaty, and they was one intoxicated lock of hair sticking -to it; but that was the only un-sober-looking thing about him. I guess -his legs would of been unsteady if he had of tried to walk, but his -intellects was uncomfortable and sober. - -He is still keeping up that same old argument with himself, or with the -picture. - -"It isn't any use," I hearn him say, looking at the picture. - -Then he listened like he hearn it answering him. "Yes, you always -say just that--just that," he says. "And I don't know why I keep on -listening to you." - -The way he talked, and harkened fur an answer, when they was nothing -there to answer, give me the creeps. - -"You don't help me," he goes on, "you don't help me at all. You only -make it harder. Yes, this thing is worse than the others. I know that. -But I want money--and fool things like this _have_ sometimes made it. No, -I won't give it up. No, there's no use making any more promises now. I -know myself now. And you ought to know me by this time, too. Why can't -you let me alone altogether? I should think, when you see what I am, -you'd let me be. - -"God help you! if you'd only stay away it wouldn't be so hard to go to -hell!" - - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -There's a lot of counties in Georgia where the blacks are equal in -number to the whites, and two or three counties where the blacks number -over the whites by two to one. It was fur a little town in one of the -latter that we pinted ourselves, Doctor Kirby and me and Sam--right into -the blackest part of the black belt. - -That country is full of big-sized plantations, where they raise cotton, -cotton, cotton, and then _more_ cotton. Some of 'em raises fruit, too, and -other things, of course; but cotton is the main stand-by, and it looks -like it always will be. - -Some places there shows that things can't be so awful much changed since -slavery days, and most of the niggers are sure enough country niggers -yet. Some rents their land right out from the owners, and some of 'em -crops it on the shares, and very many of 'em jest works as hands. A lot -of 'em don't do nigh so well now as they did when their bosses was their -masters, they tell me; and then agin, some has done right well on their -own hook. They intrusted me, because I never had been use to looking at -so many niggers. Every way you turn there they is niggers and then more -niggers. - -Them that thinks they is awful easy to handle out of a natcheral respect -fur white folks has got another guess coming. They ain't so bad to get -along with if you keep it most pintedly shoved into their heads they -_is_ niggers. You got to do that especial in the black belt, jest because -they _is_ so many of 'em. They is children all their lives, mebby, till -some one minute of craziness may strike one of them, and then he is a -devil temporary. Mebby, when the crazy fit has passed, some white woman -is worse off than if she was dead, or mebby she _is_ dead, or mebby a -loonatic fur life, and that nigger is a candidate fur a lynching bee and -ginerally elected by an anonymous majority. - -Not that _all_ niggers is that-a-way, nor _half_ of 'em, nor very _many_ of -'em, even--but you can never tell _which_ nigger is going to be. So in the -black belt the white folks is mighty pertic'ler who comes along fooling -with their niggers. Fur you can never tell what turn a nigger's thoughts -will take, once anything at all stirs 'em up. - -We didn't know them things then, Doctor Kirby and me didn't. We didn't -know we was moving light-hearted right into the middle of the biggest -question that has ever been ast. Which I disremember exactly how that -nigger question is worded, but they is always asting it in the South, -and answering of it different ways. We hadn't no idea how suspicious the -white people in them awful black spots on the map can get over any one -that comes along talking to their niggers. We didn't know anything about -niggers much, being both from the North, except what Doctor Kirby had -counted on when he made his medicine, and _that_ he knowed second-handed -from other people. We didn't take 'em very serious, nor all the talk we -hearn about 'em down South. - -But even at that we mightn't of got into any trouble if it hadn't of -been fur old Bishop Warren. But that is getting ahead of the story. - -We got into that little town--I might jest as well call it -Cottonville--jest about supper time. Cottonville is a little place -of not more'n six hundred people. I guess four hundred of 'em must be -niggers. - -After supper we got acquainted with purty nigh all the prominent -citizens in town. They was friendly with us, and we was friendly with -them. Georgia had jest went fur prohibition a few months before that, -and they hadn't opened up these here near-beer bar-rooms in the little -towns yet, like they had in Atlanta and the big towns. Georgia had went -prohibition so the niggers couldn't get whiskey, some said; but others -said they didn't know _what_ its excuse was. Them prominent citizens was -loafing around the hotel and every now and then inviting each other very -mysterious into a back room that use to be a pool parlour. They had -been several jugs come to town by express that day. We went back several -times ourselves, and soon began to get along purty well with them -prominent citizens. - -Talking about this and that they finally edges around to the one -thing everybody is sure to get to talking about sooner or later in the -South--niggers. And then they gets to telling us about this here Bishop -Warren I has mentioned. - -He was a nigger bishop, Bishop Warren was, and had a good deal of white -blood into him, they say. An ashy-coloured nigger, with bumps on his -face, fat as a possum, and as cunning as a fox. He had plenty of brains -into his head, too; but his brains had turned sour in his head the last -few years, and the bishop had crazy streaks running through his sense -now, like fat and lean mixed in a slab of bacon. He used to be friends -with a lot of big white folks, and the whites depended on him at one -time to preach orderliness and obedience and agriculture and being -in their place to the niggers. Fur years they thought he preached -that-a-way. He always _did_ preach that-a-way when any whites was around, -and he set on platforms sometimes with white preachers, and he got good -donations fur schemes of different kinds. But gradual the suspicion got -around that when he was alone with a lot of niggers his nigger blood -would get the best of him, and what he preached wasn't white supremacy -at all, but hopefulness of being equal. - -So the whites had fell away from him, and then his graft was gone, -and then his brains turned sour in his head and got to working and -fermenting in it like cider getting hard, and he made a few bad breaks -by not being careful what he said before white people. But the niggers -liked him all the better fur that. - -They always had been more or less hell in the bishop's heart. He had -brains and he knowed it, and the white folks had let him see _they_ knowed -it, too. And he was part white, and his white forefathers had been big -men in their day, and yet, in spite of all of that, he had to herd with -niggers and to pertend he liked it. He was both white and black in his -feelings about things, so some of his feelings counterdicted others, and -one of these here race riots went on all the time in his own insides. -But gradual he got to the place where they was spells he hated both -whites and niggers, but he hated the whites the worst. And now, in the -last two or three years, since his crazy streaks had growed as big -as his sensible streaks, or bigger, they was no telling what he would -preach to them niggers. But whatever he preached most of them would -believe. It might be something crazy and harmless, or it might be crazy -and harmful. - -He had been holding some revival meetings in nigger churches right there -in that very county, and was at it not fur away from there right then. -The idea had got around he was preaching some most unusual foolishness -to the blacks. Fur the niggers was all acting like they knowed something -too good to mention to the white folks, all about there. But some white -men had gone to one of the meetings, and the bishop had preached one of -his old-time sermons whilst they was there, telling the niggers to be -orderly and agriculturous--he was considerable of a fox yet. But he -and the rest of the niggers was so _derned_ anxious to be thought -agriculturous and servitudinous that the whites smelt a rat, and wished -he would go, fur they didn't want to chase him without they had to. - -Jest when we was getting along fine one of them prominent citizens asts -the doctor was we there figgering on buying some land? - -"No," says the doctor, "we wasn't." - -They was silence fur quite a little spell. Each prominent citizen had -mebby had his hopes of unloading some. They all looks a little sad, and -then another prominent citizen asts us into the back room agin. - -When we returns to the front room another prominent citizen makes -a little speech that was quite beautiful to hear, and says mebby we -represents some new concern that ain't never been in them parts and is -figgering on buying cotton. - -"No," the doctor says, "we ain't cotton buyers." - -Another prominent citizen has the idea mebby we is figgering on one of -these here inter-Reuben trolley lines, so the Rubes in one village can -ride over and visit the Rubes in the next. And another one thinks mebby -we is figgering on a telephone line. And each one makes a very eloquent -little speech about them things, and rings in something about our fair -Southland. And when both of them misses their guess it is time fur -another visit to the back room. - -Was we selling something? - -We was. - -Was we selling fruit trees? - -We wasn't. - -Finally, after every one has a chew of natcheral leaf tobaccer all -around, one prominent citizen makes so bold as to ast us very courteous -if he might enquire what it was we was selling. - -The doctor says medicine. - -Then they was a slow grin went around that there crowd of prominent -citizens. And once agin we has to make a trip to that back room. Fur -they are all sure we must be taking orders fur something to beat that -there prohibition game. When they misses that guess they all gets kind -of thoughtful and sad. A couple of 'em don't take no more interest in -us, but goes along home sighing-like, as if it wasn't no difference _what_ -we sold as long as it wasn't what they was looking fur. - -But purty soon one of them asts: - -"What _kind_ of medicine?" - -The doctor, he tells about it. - -When he finishes you never seen such a change as had come onto the faces -of that bunch. I never seen such disgusted prominent citizens in my hull -life. They looked at each other embarrassed, like they had been ketched -at something ornery. And they went out one at a time, saying good night -to the hotel-keeper and in the most pinted way taking no notice of us at -all. It certainly was a chill. We sees something is wrong, and we begins -to have a notion of what it is. - -The hotel-keeper, he spits out his chew, and goes behind his little -counter and takes a five-cent cigar out of his little show case and -bites the end off careful. Then he leans his elbows onto his counter and -reads our names to himself out of the register book, and looks at us, -and from us to the names, and from the names to us, like he is trying to -figger out how he come to let us write 'em there. Then he wants to know -where we come from before we come to Atlanta, where we had registered -from. We tells him we is from the North. He lights his cigar like he -didn't think much of that cigar and sticks it in his mouth and looks at -us so long in an absent-minded kind of way it goes out. - -Then he says we orter go back North. - -"Why?" asts the doctor. - -He chewed his cigar purty nigh up to the middle of it before he -answered, and when he spoke it was a soft kind of a drawl--not mad or -loud--but like they was sorrowful thoughts working in him. - -"Yo' all done struck the wo'st paht o' the South to peddle yo' niggah -medicine in, sah. I reckon yo' must love 'em a heap to be that concerned -over the colour of their skins." - -And he turned his back on us and went into the back room all by himself. - -We seen we was in wrong in that town. The doctor says it will be no use -trying to interduce our stuff there, and we might as well leave there -in the morning and go over to Bairdstown, which was a little place about -ten miles off the railroad, and make our start there. - -So we got a rig the next morning and drove acrost the country. No one -bid us good-bye, neither, and Doctor Kirby says it's a wonder they -rented us the rig. - -But before we started that morning we noticed a funny thing. We hadn't -so much as spoke to any nigger, except our own nigger Sam, and he -couldn't of told _all_ the niggers in that town about the stuff to turn -niggers white, even if he had set up all night to do it. But every last -nigger we saw looked like he knowed something about us. Even after we -left town our nigger driver hailed two or three niggers in the road that -acted that-away. It seemed like they was all awful polite to us. And -yet they was different in their politeness than they was to them Georgia -folks, which is their natcheral-born bosses--acted more familiar, -somehow, as if they knowed we must be thinking about the same thing they -was thinking about. - -About half-way to Bairdstown we stopped at a place to get a drink of -water. Seemingly the white folks was away fur the day, and an old nigger -come up and talked to our driver while Sam and us was at the well. - -I seen them cutting their eyes at us, whilst they was unchecking the -hosses to let them drink too, and then I hearn the one that belonged -there say: - -"Is yo' _suah_ dat hit air dem?" - -"_Suah!_" says the driver. - -"How-come yo' so all-powerful _suah_ about hit?" - -The driver pertended the harness needed some fixing, and they went -around to the other side of the team and tinkered with one of the -traces, a-talking to each other. I hearn the old nigger say, kind of -wonderized: - -"Is dey a-gwine dar _now_?" - -Sam, he was pulling a bucket of water up out of the well fur us with a -windlass. The doctor says to him: - -"Sam, what does all this mean?" - -Sam, he pertends he don't know what the doctor is talking about. -But Doctor Kirby he finally pins him down. Sam hemmed and hawed -considerable, making up his mind whether he better lie to us or not. -Then, all of a sudden, he busted out into an awful fit of laughing, and -like to of fell in the well. Seemingly he decided fur to tell us the -truth. - -From what Sam says that there bishop has been holding revival meetings -in Big Bethel, which is a nigger church right on the edge of Bairdstown, -and niggers fur miles around has been coming night after night, and some -of them whooping her up daytimes too. And the bishop has worked himself -up the last three or four nights to where he has been perdicting and -prophesying, fur the spirit has hit the meeting hard. - -What he has been prophesying, Sam says, is the coming of a Messiah fur -the nigger race--a new Elishyah, he says, as will lead them from out'n -their inequality and bring 'em up to white standards right on the spot. -The whites has had their Messiah, the bishop says, but the niggers ain't -never had none of their _special own_ yet. And they needs one bad, and one -is sure a-coming. - -It seems the whites don't know yet jest what the bishop's been -a-preaching. But every nigger fur miles on every side of Big Bethel is -a-listening and a-looking fur signs and omens, and has been fur two, -three days now. This here half-crazy bishop has got 'em worked up to -where they is ready to believe anything, or do anything. - -So the night before when the word got out in Cottonville that we had -some scheme to make the niggers white, the niggers there took up with -the idea that the doctor was mebby the feller the bishop had been -prophesying about, and for a sign and a omen and a miracle of his grace -and powers was going out to Big Bethel to turn 'em white. Poor devils, -they didn't see but what being turned white orter be a part of what they -was to get from the coming of that there Messiah. - -News spreads among niggers quicker than among whites. No one knows how -they do it. But I've hearn tales about how when war times was there, -they would frequent have the news of a big fight before the white folks' -papers would. Soldiers has told me that in them there Philippine Islands -we conquered from Spain, where they is so much nigger blood mixed up -with other kinds in the islanders, this mysterious spreading around of -news is jest the same. And jest since nine o'clock the night before, the -news had spread fur miles around that Bishop Warren's Messiah was on his -way, and was going fur to turn the bishop white to show his power and -grace, and he had with him one he had turned part white, and that was -Sam, and one he had turned clear white, and that was me. And they was to -be signs and wonders to behold at Big Bethel, with pillars of cloud and -sounds of trumpets and fire squirting down from heaven, like it always -use to be in them old Bible days, and them there niggers to be led -singing and shouting and rejoicing into a land of milk and honey, -forevermore, _Amen!_ - -That's what Sam says they are looking fur, dozens and scores and -hundreds of them niggers round about. Sam, he had lived in town five -or six years, and he looked down on all these here ignoramus country -niggers. So he busts out laughing at first, and he pertends like he -don't take no stock in any of it. Besides, he knowed well enough he -wasn't spotted up by no Messiah, but it was the dope in the bottles done -it. But as he told about them goings-on Sam got more and more interested -and warmed up to it, and his voice went into a kind of a sing-song like -he was prophesying himself. And the other two niggers quit pertending to -fool around the team and edged a little closeter, and a little closeter -yet, with their mouths open and their heads a-nodding and the whites of -their eyes a-rolling. - -Fur my part, I never hearn such a lot of dern foolishness in all my -life. But the doctor, he says nothing at all. He listens to Sam ranting -and rolling out big words and raving, and only frowns. He climbs back -into the buggy agin silent, and all the rest of the way to Bairdstown -he set there with that scowl on his face. I guesses he was thinking now, -the way things had shaped up, he wouldn't sell none of his stuff at all -without he fell right in with the reception chance had planned fur him. -But if he did fall in with it, and pertend like he was a Messiah to -them niggers, he could get all they had. He was mebby thinking how much -ornerier that would make the hull scheme. - - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -We got to Bairdstown early enough, but we didn't go to work there. We -wasted all that day. They was something working in the doctor's head he -wasn't talking about. I supposed he was getting cold feet on the hull -proposition. Anyhow, he jest set around the little tavern in that place -and done nothing all afternoon. - -The weather was fine, and we set out in front. We hadn't set there -more'n an hour till I could tell we was being noticed by the blacks, -not out open and above board. But every now and then one or two or three -would pass along down the street, and lazy about and take a look at -us. They pertended they wasn't noticing, but they was. The word had got -around, and they was a feeling in the air I didn't like at all. Too much -caged-up excitement among the niggers. The doctor felt it too, I could -see that. But neither one of us said anything about it to the other. - -Along toward dusk we takes a walk. They was a good-sized crick at the -edge of that little place, and on it an old-fashioned worter mill. Above -the mill a little piece was a bridge. We crossed it and walked along a -road that follered the crick bank closte fur quite a spell. - -It wasn't much of a town--something betwixt a village and a -settlement--although they was going to run a branch of the railroad over -to it before very long. It had had a chancet to get a railroad once, -years before that. But it had said then it didn't want no railroad. So -until lately every branch built through that part of the country grinned -very sarcastic and give it the go-by. - -They was considerable woods standing along the crick, and around a turn -in the road we come onto Sam, all of a sudden, talking with another -nigger. Sam was jest a-laying it off to that nigger, but he kind of -hushed as we come nearer. Down the road quite a little piece was a -good-sized wooden building that never had been painted and looked like -it was a big barn. Without knowing it the doctor and me had been pinting -ourselves right toward Big Bethel. - -The nigger with Sam he yells out, when he sees us: - -"Glory be! _Hyah_ dey comes! Hyah dey comes _now!_" - -[Illustration: 0265] - -And he throwed up his arms, and started on a lope up the road toward the -church, singing out every ten or fifteen yards. A little knot of niggers -come out in front of the church when they hearn him coming. - -Sam, he stood his ground, and waited fur us to come up to him, kind of -apologetic and sneaking--looking about something or other. - -"What kind of lies have you been telling these niggers, Sam?" says the -doctor, very sharp and short and mad-like. - -Sam, he digs a stone out'n the road with the toe of his shoe, and kind -of grins to himself, still looking sheepish. But he says he opinionates -he been telling them nothing at all. - -"I dunno how-come dey get all dem nigger notions in dey fool haid," Sam -says, "but dey all waitin' dar inside de chu'ch do'--some of de mos' -faiful an' de mos' pra'rful ones o' de Big Bethel cong'gation been dar -fo' de las' houah a-waitin' an' a-watchin', spite o' de fac' dat reg'lah -meetin' ain't gwine ter be called twell arter supper. De bishop, he dar -too. Dey got some dese hyah coal-ile lamps dar des inside de chu'ch do' -an' dey been keepin' on 'em lighted, daytimes an' night times, fo' two -days now, kaze dey say dey ain't gwine fo' ter be cotched napping when -de bridegroom _com_eth. Yass, _sah!_--dey's ten o' dese hyah vergims dar, -five of 'em sleepin' an' five of 'em watchin', an' a-takin' tuhns at -hit, an' mebby dat how-come free or fouah dey bes' young colo'hed mens -been projickin' aroun' dar all arternoon, a-helpin' dem dat's a-waitin' -twell de bridegroom _com_eth!" - -We seen a little knot of them, down the road there in front of the -church, gathering around the nigger that had been with Sam. They all -starts toward us. But one man steps out in front of them all, and turns -toward them and holds his hands up, and waves them back. They all stops -in their tracks. - -Then he turns his face toward us, and comes slow and sollum down the -road in our direction, walking with a cane, and moving very dignified. -He was a couple of hundred yards away. - -But as he come closeter we gradually seen him plainer and plainer. He -was a big man, and stout, and dressed very neat in the same kind of rig -as white bishops wear, with one of these white collars that buttons in -the back. I suppose he was coming on to meet us alone, because no one -was fitten fur to give us the first welcome but himself. - -Well, it was all dern foolishness, and it was hard to believe it could -all happen, and they ain't so many places in this here country it _could_ -happen. But fur all of it being foolishness, when he come down the road -toward us so dignified and sollum and slow I ketched myself fur a minute -feeling like we really had been elected to something and was going to -take office soon. And Sam, as the bishop come closeter and closeter, got -to jerking and twitching with the excitement that he had been keeping -in--and yet all the time Sam knowed it was dope and works and not faith -that had made him spotted that-a-way. - -He stops, the bishop does, about ten yards from us and looks us over. - -"Ah yo' de gennleman known ter dis hyah sinful genehation by de style -an' de entitlemint o' Docto' Hahtley Kirby?" he asts the doctor very -ceremonious and grand. - -The doctor give him a look that wasn't very encouraging, but he nodded -to him. - -"Will yo' dismiss yo' sehvant in ordeh dat we kin hol' convehse an' -communion in de midst er privacy?" - -The doctor, he nods to Sam, and Sam moseys along toward the church. - -"Now, then," says the doctor, sudden and sharp, "take off your hat and -tell me what you want." - -The bishop's hand goes up to his head with a jerk before he thought. -Then it stops there, while him and the doctor looks at each other. The -bishop's mouth opens like he was wondering, but he slowly pulls his -hat off and stands there bare-headed in the road. But he wasn't really -humble, that bishop. - -"Now," says the doctor, "tell me in as straight talk as you've got what -all this damned foolishness among you niggers means." - -A queer kind of look passed over the bishop's face. He hadn't expected -to be met jest that way, mebby. Whether he himself had really believed -in the coming of that there new Messiah he had been perdicting, I never -could settle in my mind. Mebby he had been getting ready to pass _Himself_ -off fur one before we come along and the niggers all got the fool idea -Doctor Kirby was it. Before the bishop spoke agin you could see his -craziness and his cunningness both working in his face. But when he did -speak he didn't quit being ceremonious nor dignified. - -"De wohd has gone fo'th among de faiful an' de puah in heaht," he says, -"dat er man has come accredited wi' signs an' wi' mahvels an' de poweh -o' de sperrit fo' to lay his han' on de sons o' Ham an' ter make 'em des -de same in colluh as de yuther sons of ea'th." - -"Then that word is a lie," says the doctor. "I _did_ come here to try out -some stuff to change the colour of negro skins. That's all. And I find -your idiotic followers are all stirred up and waiting for some kind of a -miracle monger. What you have been preaching to them, you know best. Is -that all you want to know?" - -The bishop hems and haws and fiddles with his stick, and then he says: - -"Suh, will dish yeah prepa'shun _sho'ly_ do de wohk?" Doctor Kirby tells -him it will do the work all right. - -And then the bishop, after beating around the bush some more, comes out -with his idea. Whether he expected there would be any Messiah come or -not, of course he knowed the doctor wasn't him. But he is willing to -boost the doctor's game as long as it boosts _his_ game. He wants to be in -on the deal. He wants part of the graft. He wants to get together with -the doctor on a plan before the doctor sees the niggers. And if the -doctor don't want to keep on with the miracle end of it, the bishop -shows him how he could do him good with no miracle attachment. Fur he -has an awful holt on them niggers, and his say-so will sell thousands -and thousands of bottles. What he is looking fur jest now is his little -take-out. - -That was his craftiness and his cunningness working in him. But all of -a sudden one of his crazy streaks come bulging to the surface. It come -with a wild, eager look in his eyes. - -"Suh," he cries out, all of a sudden, "ef yo' kin make me white, fo' -Gawd sakes, do hit! Do hit! Ef yo' does, I gwine ter bless yo' all yo' -days! - -"Yo' don' know--no one kin guess or comperhen'--what des bein' white -would mean ter me! Lawd! Lawd!" he says, his voice soft-spoken, but more -eager than ever as he went on, and pleading something pitiful to hear, -"des think of all de Caucasian blood in me! Gawd knows de nights er my -youth I'se laid awake twell de dawn come red in de Eas' a-cryin' out ter -Him only fo' ter be white! _Des ter be white_! Don' min' dem black, black -niggers dar--don' think er _dem_--dey ain't wuth nothin' nor fitten fo' -no fate but what dey got--But me! What's done kep' me from gwine ter de -top but dat one thing: _I wasn't white!_ Hit air too late now--too late -fo' dem ambitions I done trifle with an' shove behin' me--hit's too late -fo' dat! But ef I was des ter git one li'l year o' hit--_one li'l year o' -bein' white!_--befo' I died--" - -And he went on like that, shaking and stuttering there in the road, like -a fit had struck him, crazy as a loon. But he got hold of himself enough -to quit talking, in a minute, and his cunning come back to him before -he was through trembling. Then the doctor says slow and even, but not -severe: - -"You go back to your people now, bishop, and tell them they've made a -mistake about me. And if you can, undo the harm you've done with this -Messiah business. As far as this stuff of mine is concerned, there's -none of it for you nor for any other negro. You tell them that. There's -none of it been sold yet--and there never will be." - -Then we turned away and left him standing there in the road, still with -his hat off and his face working. - -Walking back toward the little tavern the doctor says: - -"Danny, this is the end of this game. These people down here and that -half-cracked, half-crooked old bishop have made me see a few things about -the Afro-American brother. It wasn't a good scheme in the first place. -And this wasn't the place to start it going, anyhow--I should have tried -the niggers in the big towns. But I'm out of it now, and I'm glad of -it. What we want to do is to get away from here to-morrow--go back to -Atlanta and fix up a scheme to rob some widows and orphans, or something -half-way respectable like that." - -Well, I drew a long breath. I was with Doctor Kirby in everything he -done, fur he was my friend, and I didn't intend to quit him. But I was -glad we was out of this, and hadn't sold none of that dope. We both -felt better because we hadn't. All them millions we was going to -make--shucks! We didn't neither one of us give a dern about them getting -away from us. All we wanted was jest to get away from there and not get -mixed up with no nigger problems any more. We eat supper, and we set -around a while, and we went to bed purty middling early, so as to get a -good start in the morning. - -We got up early, but early as it was the devil had been up earlier in -that neighbourhood. About four o'clock that morning a white woman about -a half a mile from the village had been attacked by a nigger. They was -doubt as to whether she would live, but if she lived they wasn't no -doubts she would always be more or less crazy. Fur besides everything -else, he had beat her insensible. And he had choked her nearly to death. -The country-side was up, with guns and pistols looking fur that nigger. -It wasn't no trouble guessing what would happen to him when they ketched -him, neither. - -"And," says Doctor Kirby, when we hearn of it, "I hope to high heaven -they _do_ catch him!" - -They wasn't much doubt they would, either. They was already beating up -the woods and bushes and gangs was riding up and down the roads, and -every nigger's house fur miles around was being searched and watched. - -We soon seen we would have trouble getting hosses and a rig in the -village to take us to the railroad. Many of the hosses was being ridden -in the man-hunt. And most of the men who might have done the driving was -busy at that too. The hotel-keeper himself had left his place standing -wide open and went out. We didn't get any breakfast neither. - -"Danny," says the doctor, "we'll just put enough money to pay the bill -in an envelope on the register here, and strike out on shank's ponies. -It's only nine or ten miles to the railroad--we'll walk." - -"But how about our stuff?" I asts him. We had two big cases full of -sample bottles of that dope, besides our suit cases. - -"Hang the dope!" says the doctor, "I don't ever want to see it or hear -of it again! We'll leave it here. Put the things out of your suit case -into mine, and leave that here too. Sam can carry mine. I want to be on -the move." - -So we left, with Sam carrying the one suit case. It wasn't nine in the -morning yet, and we was starting out purty empty fur a long walk. - -"Sam," says the doctor, as we was passing that there Big Bethel -church--and it showed up there silent and shabby in the morning, like a -old coloured man that knows a heap more'n he's going to tell--"Sam, were -you at the meeting here last night?" - -"Yass, suh!" - -"I suppose it was a pretty tame affair after they found out their Elisha -wasn't coming after all?" - -Sam, he walled his eyes, and then he kind of chuckled. - -"Well, suh," he says, "I 'spicions de mos' on 'em don' know dat _yit!_" - -The doctor asts him what he means. - -It seems the bishop must of done some thinking after we left him in the -road or on his way back to that church. They had all begun to believe -that there Elishyah was on the way to 'em, and the bishop's credit was -more or less wrapped up with our being it. It was true he hadn't started -that belief; but it was believed, and he didn't dare to stop it now. -Fur, if he stopped it, they would all think he had fell down on his -prophetics, even although he hadn't prophesied jest exactly us. He was -in a tight place, that bishop, but I bet you could always depend on him -to get out of it with his flock. So what he told them niggers at the -meeting last night was that he brung 'em a message from Elishyah, Sam -says, the Elishyah that was to come. And the message was that the time -was not ripe fur him to reveal himself as Elishyah unto the eyes of all -men, fur they had been too much sinfulness and wickedness and walking -into the ways of evil, right amongst that very congregation, and -disobedience of the bishop, which was their guide. And he had sent 'em -word, Elishyah had, that the bishop was his trusted servant, and into -the keeping of the bishop was give the power to deal with his people and -prepare them fur the great day to come. And the bishop would give the -word of his coming. He was a box, that bishop was, in spite of his crazy -streaks; and he had found a way to make himself stronger than ever with -his bunch out of the very kind of thing that would have spoiled most -people's graft. They had had a big meeting till nearly morning, and the -power had hit 'em strong. Sam told us all about it. - -But the thing that seemed to interest the doctor, and made him frown, -was the idea that all them niggers round about there still had the idea -he was the feller that had been prophesied to come. All except Sam, -mebby. Sam had spells when he was real sensible, and other spells when -he was as bad as the believingest of them all. - -It was a fine day, and really joyous to be a-walking. It would of been -a good deal joyouser if we had had some breakfast, but we figgered we -would stop somewheres at noon and lay in a good, square, country meal. - -That wasn't such a very thick settled country. But everybody seemed to -know about the manhunt that was going on, here, there, and everywhere. -People would come down to the road side as we passed, and gaze after us. -Or mebby ast us if we knowed whether he had been ketched yet. Women and -kids mostly, or old men, but now and then a younger man too. We noticed -they wasn't no niggers to speak of that wasn't busier'n all get out, -working at something or other, that day. - -They is considerable woods in that country yet, though lots has been -cut off. But they was sometimes right long stretches where they would -be woods on both sides of the road, more or less thick, with underbrush -between the trees. We tramped along, each busy thinking his own -thoughts, and having a purty good time jest doing that without there -being no use of talking. I was thinking that I liked the doctor better -fur turning his back on all this game, jest when he might of made some -sort of a deal with the bishop and really made some money out of it -in the end. He never was so good a business man as he thought he was, -Doctor Kirby wasn't. He always could make himself think he was. But when -it come right down to brass tacks he wasn't. You give him a scheme that -would _talk_ well, the kind of a josh talk he liked to get off fur his own -enjoyment, and he would take up with it every time instead of one that -had more promise of money to it if it was worked harder. He was thinking -of the _talk_ more'n he was of the money, mostly; and he was always saying -something about art fur art's sake, which was plumb foolishness, fur he -never painted no pictures. Well, he never got over being more or less of -a puzzle to me. But fur some reason or other this morning he seemed to -be in a better humour with himself, after we had walked a while, than I -had seen him in fur a long time. - -We come to the top of one long hill, which it had made us sweat to -climb, and without saying nothing to each other we both stopped and took -off our hats and wiped our foreheads, and drawed long breaths, content -to stand there fur jest a minute or two and look around us. The road run -straight ahead, and dipped down, and then clumb up another hill about an -eighth of a mile in front of us. It made a little valley. Jest about -the middle, between the two hills, a crick meandered through the bottom -land. Woods growed along the crick, and along both sides of the road we -was travelling. Right nigh the crick they was another road come out -of the woods to the left-hand side, and switched into the road we was -travelling, and used the same bridge to cross the crick by. They was -three or four houses here and there, with chimbleys built up on the -outside of them, and blue smoke coming out. We stood and looked at the -sight before us and forgot all the troubles we had left behind, fur a -couple of minutes--it all looked so peaceful and quiet and homeyfied and -nice. - -"Well," says the doctor, after we had stood there a piece, "I guess we -better be moving on again, Danny." - -But jest as Sam, who was follering along behind with that suit case, -picks it up and puts it on his head agin, they come a sound, from away -off in the distance somewheres, that made him set it down quick. And we -all stops in our tracks and looks at each other. - -It was the voice of a hound dog--not so awful loud, but clear and mellow -and tuneful, and carried to us on the wind. And then in a minute it come -agin, sharper and quicker. They yells like that when they have struck a -scent. - -As we stood and looked at each other they come a crackle in the -underbrush, jest to the left of us. We turned our heads that-a-way, jest -as a nigger man give a leap to the top of a rail fence that separated -the road from the woods. He was going so fast that instead of climbing -that fence and balancing on the top and jumping off he jest simply -seemed to hit the top rail and bounce on over, like he had been throwed -out of the heart of the woods, and he fell sprawling over and over in -the road, right before our feet. - -He was onto his feet in a second, and fur a minute he stood up straight -and looked at us--an ashes-coloured nigger, ragged and bleeding from the -underbrush, red-eyed, and with slavers trickling from his red lips, and -sobbing and gasping and panting fur breath. Under his brown skin, where -his shirt was torn open acrost his chest, you could see that nigger's -heart a-beating. - -But as he looked at us they come a sudden change acrost his face--he -must of seen the doctor before, and with a sob he throwed himself on his -knees in the road and clasped his hands and held 'em out toward Doctor -Kirby. - -"_Elishyah_! _Elishyah_!" he sings out, rocking of his body in a kind -of tune, "reveal yo'se'f, reveal yo'se'f an' he'p me _now!_ Lawd Gawd -_Elishyah_, beckon fo' a _Cha_'iot, yo' cha'iot of _fiah!_ Lif' me, lif' -me--lif' me away f'um hyah in er cha'iot o' _fiah!_" - -The doctor, he turned his head away, and I knowed the thought working -in him was the thought of that white woman that would always be an -idiot for life, if she lived. But his lips was dumb, and his one hand -stretched itself out toward that nigger in the road and made a wiping -motion, like he was trying fur to wipe the picture of him, and the -thought of him, off'n a slate forevermore. - -Jest then, nearer and louder and sharper, and with an eager sound, like -they knowed they almost had him now, them hounds' voices come ringing -through the woods, and with them come the mixedup shouts of men. - -"_Run!_" yells Sam, waving of that suit case round his head, fur one -nigger will always try to help another no matter what he's done. "Run -fo' de branch--git yo' foots in de worter an' fling 'em off de scent!" - -He bounded down the hill, that red-eyed nigger, and left us standing -there. But before he reached the crick the whole man-hunt come busting -through the woods, the dogs a-straining at their straps. The men was all -on foot, with guns and pistols in their hands. They seen the nigger, -and they all let out a yell, and was after him. They ketched him at the -crick, and took him off along that road that turned off to the left. -I hearn later he was a member of Bishop Warren's congregation, so they -hung him right in front of Big Bethel church. - -We stood there on top of the hill and saw the chase and capture. Doctor -Kirby's face was sweating worse than when we first clumb the hill. -He was thinking about that nigger that had pleaded with him. He was -thinking also of the woman. He was glad it hadn't been up to him -personal right then and there to butt in and stop a lynching. He was -glad, fur with them two pictures in front of him he didn't know what he -would of done. - -"Thank heaven!" I hearn him say to himself. "Thank heaven that it wasn't -_really_ in my power to choose!" - - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -Well, we had pork and greens fur dinner that day, with the best -corn-bread I ever eat anywheres, and buttermilk, and sweet potato pie. -We got 'em at the house of a feller named Withers--Old Daddy Withers. -Which if they was ever a nicer old man than him, or a nicer old woman -than his wife, I never run acrost 'em yet. - -They lived all alone, them Witherses, with only a couple of niggers to -help them run their farm. After we eats our dinner and Sam gets his'n -out to the kitchen, we sets out in front of the house and gets to -talking with them, and gets real well acquainted. Which we soon found -out the secret of old Daddy Withers's life--that there innocent-looking -old jigger was a poet. He was kind of proud of it and kind of shamed of -it both to oncet. The way it come out was when the doctor says one -of them quotations he is always getting off, and the old man he looks -pleased and says the rest of the piece it dropped out of straight -through. - -Then they had a great time quoting it at each other, them two, and I -seen the doctor is good to loaf around there the rest of the day, like -as not. Purty soon the old lady begins to get mighty proud-looking over -something or other, and she leans over and whispers to the old man: - -"Shall I bring it out, Lemuel?" - -The old man, he shakes his head, no. But she slips into the house -anyhow, and fetches out a little book with a pale green cover to it, and -hands it to the doctor. - -"Bless my soul," says Doctor Kirby, looking at the old man, "you don't -mean to say you write verse yourself?" - -The old man, he gets red all over his face, and up into the roots of -his white hair, and down into his white beard, and makes believe he is a -little mad at the old lady fur showing him off that-a-way. - -"Mother," he says, "yo' shouldn't have done that!" They had had a boy -years before, and he had died, but he always called her mother the same -as if the boy was living. He goes into the house and gets his pipe, -and brings it out and lights it, acting like that book of poetry was -a mighty small matter to him. But he looks at Doctor Kirby out of -the corner of his eyes, and can't keep from getting sort of eager and -trembly with his pipe; and I could see he was really anxious over what -the doctor was thinking of them poems he wrote. The doctor reads some of -'em out loud. - -Well, it was kind of home-made poetry, Old Daddy Withers's was. It -wasn't like no other poetry I ever struck. And I could tell the doctor -was thinking the same about it. It sounded somehow like it hadn't been -jointed together right. You would keep listening fur it to rhyme, and -get all worked up watching and waiting fur it to, and make bets with -yourself whether it would rhyme or it wouldn't. And then it ginerally -wouldn't. I never hearn such poetry to get a person's expectances all -worked up, and then go back on 'em. But if you could of told what it was -all about, you wouldn't of minded that so much. Not that you can tell -what most poetry is about, but you don't care so long as it keeps -hopping along lively. What you want in poetry to make her sound good, -according to my way of thinking, is to make her jump lively, and -then stop with a bang on the rhymes. But Daddy Withers was so -independent-like he would jest natcherally try to force two words to -rhyme whether the Lord made 'em fur mates or not--like as if you would -try to make a couple of kids kiss and make up by bumping their heads -together. They jest simply won't do it. But Doctor Kirby, he let on like -he thought it was fine poetry, and he read them pieces over and over -agin, out loud, and the old man and the old woman was both mighty -tickled with the way he done it. He wouldn't of had 'em know fur -anything he didn't believe it was the finest poetry ever wrote, Doctor -Kirby wouldn't. - -They was four little books of it altogether. Slim books that looked as -if they hadn't had enough to eat, like a stray cat whose ribs is rubbing -together. It had cost Daddy Withers five hundred dollars apiece to get -'em published. A feller in Boston charged him that much, he said. It -seems he would go along fur years, raking and scraping of his money -together, so as to get enough ahead to get out another book. Each time -he had his hopes the big newspapers would mebby pay some attention to -it, and he would get recognized. - -"But they never did," said the old man, kind of sad, "it always fell -flat." - -"Why, _father!_"--the old lady begins, and finishes by running back into -the house agin. She is out in a minute with a clipping from a newspaper -and hands it over to Doctor Kirby, as proud as a kid with copper-toed -boots. The doctor reads it all the way through, and then he hands it -back without saying a word. The old lady goes away to fiddle around -about the housework purty soon and the old man looks at the doctor and -says: - -"Well, you see, don't you?" - -"Yes," says the doctor, very gentle. - -"I wouldn't have _her_ know for the world," says Daddy Withers. "_I_ -know and _you_ know that newspaper piece is just simply poking fun at my -poetry, and making a fool of me, the whole way through. As soon as I -read it over careful I saw it wasn't really praise, though there was a -minute or two I thought my recognition had come. But _she_ don't know it -ain't serious from start to finish. _She_ was all-mighty pleased when that -piece come out in print. And I don't intend she ever shall know it ain't -real praise." - -His wife was so proud when that piece come out in that New York paper, -he said, she cried over it. She said now she was glad they had been -doing without things fur years and years so they could get them little -books printed, one after the other, fur now fame was coming. But -sometimes, Daddy Withers says, he suspicions she really knows he has -been made a fool of, and is pertending not to see it, fur his sake, the -same as he is pertending fur _her_ sake. Well, they was a mighty nice -old couple, and the doctor done a heap of pertending fur both their -sakes--they wasn't nothing else to do. - -"How'd you come to get started at it?" he asts. - -Daddy Withers says he don't rightly know. Mebby, he says, it was living -there all his life and watching things growing--watching the cotton -grow, and the corn and getting acquainted with birds and animals and -trees and things. Helping of things to grow, he says, is a good way to -understand how God must feel about humans. For what you plant and help -to grow, he says, you are sure to get to caring a heap about. You can't -help it. And that is the reason, he says, God can be depended on to pull -the human race through in the end, even if appearances do look to be -agin His doing it sometimes, fur He started it to growing in the first -place and that-a-way He got interested personal in it. And that is the -main idea, he says, he has all the time been trying to get into that -there poetry of his'n. But he reckons he ain't got her in. Leastways, -he says, no one has never seen her there but the doctor and the old lady -and himself. Well, for my part, I never would of seen it there myself, -but when he said it out plain like that any one could of told what he -meant. - -You hadn't orter lay things up agin folks if the folks can't help 'em. -And I will say Daddy Withers was a fine old boy in spite of his poetry. -Which it never really done any harm, except being expensive to him, and -lots will drink that much up and never figger it an expense, but one -of the necessities of life. We went all over his place with him, and we -noticed around his house a lot of tin cans tacked up to posts and trees. -They was fur the birds to drink out of, and all the birds around there -had found out about it, and about Daddy Withers, and wasn't scared of -him at all. He could get acquainted with animals, too, so that after a -long spell sometimes they would even let him handle them. But not if any -one was around. They was a crow he had made a pet of, used to hop around -in front of him, and try fur to talk to him. If he went to sleep in the -front yard whilst he was reading, that crow had a favourite trick of -stealing his spectacles off'n his nose and flying up to the ridgepole -of the house, and cawing at him. Once he had been setting out a row of -tomato plants very careful, and he got to the end of the row and turned -around, and that there crow had been hopping along behind very sollum, -pulling up each plant as he set it out. It acted like it had done -something mighty smart, and knowed it, that crow. So after that the old -man named him Satan, fur he said it was Satan's trick to keep things -from growing. They was some blue and white pigeons wasn't scared to come -and set on his shoulders; but you could see the old man really liked -that crow Satan better'n any of them. - -Well, we hung around all afternoon listening to the old man talk, and -liking him better and better. First thing we knowed it was getting along -toward supper time. And nothing would do but we must stay to supper, -too. We was pinted toward a place on the railroad called Smithtown, but -when we found we couldn't get a train from there till ten o'clock that -night anyhow, and it was only three miles away, we said we'd stay. - -After supper we calculated we'd better move. But the old man wouldn't -hear of us walking that three miles. So about eight o'clock he hitched -up a mule to a one-hoss wagon, and we jogged along. - -They was a yaller moon sneaking up over the edge of the world when we -started. It was so low down in the sky yet that it threw long shadders -on the road, and they was thick and black ones, too. Because they was a -lot of trees alongside the road, and the road was narrow, we went ahead -mostly through the darkness, with here and there patches of moonlight -splashed onto the ground. Doctor Kirby and Old Man Withers was setting -on the seat, still gassing away about books and things, and I was -setting on the suit case in the wagon box right behind 'em. Sam, he was -sometimes in the back of the wagon. He had been more'n half asleep all -afternoon, but now it was night he was waked up, the way niggers and -cats will do, and every once in a while he would get out behind and cut -a few capers in a moonlight patch, jest fur the enjoyment of it, and -then run and ketch up with the wagon and crawl in agin, fur it was going -purty slow. - -The ground was sandy in spots, and I guess we made a purty good load fur -Beck, the old mule. She stopped, going up a little slope, after we had -went about a mile from the Witherses'. Sam says he'll get out and walk, -fur the wheels was in purty deep, and it was hard going. - -"Giddap, Beck!" says the old man. - -But Beck, she won't. She don't stand like she is stuck, neither, but -like she senses danger somewheres about. A hoss might go ahead into -danger, but a mule is more careful of itself and never goes butting in -unless it feels sure they is a way out. - -"Giddap," says the old man agin. - -But jest then the shadders on both sides of the road comes to life. They -wakes up, and moves all about us. It was done so sudden and quiet it was -half a minute before I seen it wasn't shadders but about thirty men had -gathered all about us on every side. They had guns. - -"Who are you? What d'ye want?" asts the old man, startled, as three or -four took care of the mule's head very quick and quiet. - -"Don't be skeered, Daddy Withers," says a drawly voice out of the dark; -"we ain't goin' to hurt _you_. We got a little matter o' business to tend -to with them two fellers yo' totin' to town." - - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -THIRTY men with guns would be considerable of a proposition to buck -against, so we didn't try it. They took us out of the wagon, and they -pinted us down the road, steering us fur a country schoolhouse which -was, I judged from their talk, about a quarter of a mile away. They took -us silent, fur after we found they didn't answer no questions we quit -asking any. We jest walked along, and guessed what we was up against, -and why. Daddy Withers, he trailed along behind. They had tried to send -him along home, but he wouldn't go. So they let him foller and paid no -more heed to him. - -Sam, he kept a-talking and a-begging, and several men a-telling of him -to shut up. And him not a-doing it. Till finally one feller says very -disgusted-like: - -"Boys, I'm going to turn this nigger loose." - -"We'll want his evidence," says another one. - -"Evidence!" says the first one. "What's the evidence of a scared nigger -worth?" - -"I reckon that one this afternoon was considerable scared, when he give -us that evidence against himself--that is, if you call it evidence." - -"A nigger can give evidence against a nigger, and it's all right," says -another voice--which it come from a feller that had a-holt of my wrist -on the left-hand side of me--"but these are white men we are going to -try to-night. The case is too serious to take nigger evidence. Besides, -I reckon we got all the evidence any one could need. This nigger ain't -charged with any crime himself, and my idea is that he ain't to be -allowed to figure one way or the other in this thing." - -So they turned Sam loose. I never seen nor hearn tell of Sam since then. -They fired a couple of guns into the air as he started down the road, -jest fur fun, and mebby he is running yet. - -The feller had been talking like he was a lawyer, so I asts him what -crime we was charged with. But he didn't answer me. And jest then we -gets in sight of that schoolhouse. - -It set on top of a little hill, partially in the moonlight, with a few -sad-looking pine trees scattered around it, and the fence in front -broke down. Even after night you could see it was a shabby-looking little -place. - -Old Daddy Withers tied his mule to the broken down fence. Somebody -busted the front door down. Somebody else lighted matches. The first -thing I knowed, we was all inside, and four or five dirty little coal -oil lamps, with tin reflectors to 'em, which I s'pose was used ordinary -fur school exhibitions, was being lighted. - -We was waltzed up onto the teacher's platform, Doctor Kirby and me, and -set down in chairs there, with two men to each of us, and then a tall, -rawboned feller stalks up to the teacher's desk, and raps on it with the -butt end of a pistol, and says: - -"Gentlemen, this meeting will come to order." - -Which they was orderly enough before that, but they all took off their -hats when he rapped, like in a court room or a church, and most of 'em -set down. - -They set down in the school kids' seats, or on top of the desks, and -their legs stuck out into the aisles, and they looked uncomfortable and -awkward. But they looked earnest and they looked sollum, too, and they -wasn't no joking nor skylarking going on, nor no kind of rowdyness, -neither. These here men wasn't toughs, by any manner of means, but -the most part of 'em respectable farmers. They had a look of meaning -business. - -"Gentlemen," says the feller who had rapped, "who will you have for your -chairman?" - -"I reckon you'll do, Will," says another feller to the raw-boned man, -which seemed to satisfy him. But he made 'em vote on it before he took -office. - -"Now then," says Will, "the accused must have counsel." - -"Will," says another feller, very hasty, "what's the use of all this -fuss an' feathers? You know as well as I do there's nothing legal about -this. It's only necessary. For my part--" - -"Buck Hightower," says Will, pounding on the desk, "you will please come -to order." Which Buck done it. - -"Now," says the chairman, turning toward Doctor Kirby, who had been -setting there looking thoughtful from one man to another, like he was -sizing each one up, "now I must explain to the chief defendant that we -don't intend to lynch him." - -He stopped a second on that word __lynch__ as if to let it soak in. The -doctor, he bowed toward him very cool and ceremonious, and says, mocking -of him: - -"You reassure me, Mister--Mister--What is your name?" He said it in a -way that would of made a saint mad. - -"My name ain't any difference," says Will, trying not to show he was -nettled. - -"You are quite right," says the doctor, looking Will up and down from -head to foot, very slow and insulting, "it's of no consequence in the -world." - -Will, he flushed up, but he makes himself steady and cool, and he goes -on with his little speech: "There is to be no lynching here to-night. -There is to be a trial, and, if necessary, an execution." - -"Would it be asking too much," says the doctor very polite, "if I were -to inquire who is to be tried, and before what court, and upon what -charge?" - -There was a clearing of throats and a shuffling of feet fur a minute. -One old deaf feller, with a red nose, who had his hand behind his ear -and was leaning forward so as not to miss a breath of what any one said, -ast his neighbour in a loud whisper, "How?" Then an undersized little -feller, who wasn't a farmer by his clothes, got up and moved toward the -platform. He had a bulging-out forehead, and thin lips, and a quick, -nervous way about him: - -"You are to be tried," he says to the doctor, speaking in a kind of -shrill sing-song that cut your nerves in that room full of bottled-up -excitement like a locust on a hot day. "You are to be tried before this -self-constituted court of Caucasian citizens--Anglo-Saxons, sir, every -man of them, whose forbears were at Runnymede! The charge against you -is stirring up the negroes of this community to the point of revolt. -You are accused, sir, of representing yourself to them as some kind of -a Moses. You are arraigned here for endangering the peace of the county -and the supremacy of the Caucasian race by inspiring in the negroes the -hope of equality." - -Old Daddy Withers had been setting back by the door. I seen him get -up and slip out. It didn't look to me to be any place fur a gentle old -poet. While that little feller was making that charge you could feel the -air getting tingly, like it does before a rain storm. - -[Illustration: 0297] - -Some fellers started to clap their hands like at a political rally and -to say, "Go it, Billy!" "That's right, Harden!" Which I found out later -Billy Harden was in the state legislature, and quite a speaker, and -knowed it. Will, the chairman, he pounded down the applause, and then he -says to the doctor, pointing to Billy Harden: - -"No man shall say of us that we did not give you a fair trial and a -square deal. I'm goin' to appoint this gentleman as your counsel, and -I'm goin' to give you a reasonable time to talk with him in private and -prepare your case. He is the ablest lawyer in southwest Georgia and the -brightest son of Watson County." - -The doctor looks kind of lazy and Bill Harden, and back agin at Will, -the chairman, and smiles out of the corner of his mouth. Then he says, -sort of taking in the rest of the crowd with his remark, like them two -standing there paying each other compliments wasn't nothing but a joke: - -"I hope neither of you will take it too much to heart if I'm not -impressed by your sense of justice--or your friend's ability." - -"Then," said Will, "I take it that you intend to act as your own -counsel?" - -"You may take it," says the doctor, rousing of himself up, "you may take -it--from me--that I refuse to recognize you and your crowd as a court of -any kind; that I know nothing of the silly accusations against me; -that I find no reason at all why I should take the trouble of making a -defence before an armed mob that can only mean one of two things." - -"One of two things?" says Will. - -"Yes," says the doctor, very quiet, but raising his voice a little and -looking him hard in the eyes. "You and your gang can mean only one of -two things. Either a bad joke, or else--" - -And he stopped a second, leaning forward in his chair, with the look of -half raising out of it, so as to bring out the word very decided-- - -"_MURDER!_" - -The way he done it left that there word hanging in the room, so you -could almost see it and almost feel it there, like it was a thing that -had to be faced and looked at and took into account. They all felt it -that-a-way, too; fur they wasn't a sound fur a minute. Then Will says: - -"We don't plan murder, and you'll find this ain't a joke. And since you -refuse to accept counsel--" - -Jest then Buck Hightower interrupts him by yelling out, "I make a motion -Billy Harden be prosecuting attorney, then. Let's hurry this thing -along!" And several started to applaud, and call fur Billy Harden to -prosecute. But Will, he pounded down the applause agin, and says: - -"I was about to suggest that Mr. Harden might be prevailed upon to -accept that task." - -"Yes," says the doctor, very gentle and easy. "Quite so! I fancied -myself that Mr. Harden came along with the idea of making a speech -either for or against." And he grinned at Billy Harden in a way that -seemed to make him wild, though he tried not to show it. Somehow the -doctor seemed to be all keyed up, instead of scared, like a feller -that's had jest enough to drink to give him a fighting edge. - -"Mr. Chairman," says Billy Harden, flushing up and stuttering jest a -little, "I b-beg leave to d-d-decline." - -"What," says the doctor, sort of playing with Billy with his eyes and -grin, and turning like to let the whole crowd in on the joke, "_decline_? -The eminent gentleman declines! And he is going to sit down, too, with -all that speech bottled up in him! O Demosthenes!" he says, "you have -lost your pebble in front of all Greece." - -Several grinned at Billy Harden as he set down, and three or four -laughed outright. I guess about half of them there knowed him fur a wind -bag, and some wasn't sorry to see him joshed. But I seen what the doctor -was trying to do. He knowed he was in an awful tight place, and he was -feeling that crowd's pulse, so to speak. He had been talking to crowds -fur twenty years, and he knowed the kind of sudden turns they will take, -and how to take advantage of 'em. He was planning and figgering in his -mind all the time jest what side to ketch 'em on, and how to split up -the one, solid crowd-mind into different minds. But the little bit of -a laugh he turned against Billy Harden was only on the surface, like a -straw floating on a whirlpool. These men was here fur business. - -Buck Hightower jumps up and says: - -"Will, I'm getting tired of this court foolishness. The question is, -Does this man come into this county and do what he has done and get out -again? We know all about him. He sneaked in here and gave out he was -here to turn the niggers white--that he was some kind of a new-fangled -Jesus sent especially to niggers, which is blasphemy in itself--and -he's got 'em stirred up. They're boilin' and festerin' with notions of -equality till we're lucky if we don't have to lynch a dozen of 'em, -like they did in Atlanta last summer, to get 'em back into their places -again. Do we save ourselves more trouble by stringing him up as a -warning to the negroes? Or do we invite trouble by turning him loose? -Which? All it needs is a vote." - -And he set down agin. You could see he had made a hit with the boys. -They was a kind of a growl rolled around the room. The feelings in that -place was getting stronger and stronger. I was scared, but trying not to -show it. My fingers kept feeling around in my pocket fur something that -wasn't there. But my brain couldn't remember what my fingers was feeling -fur. Then it come on me sudden it was a buckeye I picked up in the -woods in Indiany one day, and I had lost it. I ain't superstitious about -buckeyes or horse-shoes, but remembering I had lost it somehow made me -feel worse. But Doctor Kirby had a good holt on himself; his face was -a bit redder'n usual, and his eyes was sparkling, and he was both eager -and watchful. When Buck Hightower sets down the chairman clears his -throat like he is going to speak. But-- - -"Just a moment," says Doctor Kirby, getting on his feet, and taking -a step toward the chairman. And the way he stopped and stood made -everybody look at him. Then he went on: - -"Once more," he says, "I call the attention of every man present to the -fact that what the last speaker proposes is--" - -And then he let 'em have that word agin, full in their faces, to think -about-- - -"_Murder!_ Merely murder." - -He was bound they shouldn't get away from that word and what it stood -fur. And every man there _did_ think, too, fur they was another little -pause. And not one of 'em looked at another one fur a minute. Doctor -Kirby leaned forward from the platform, running his eyes over the crowd, -and jest natcherally shoved that word into the room so hard with his -mind that every mind there had to take it in. - -But as he held 'em to it they come a bang from one of the windows. It -broke the charm. Fur everybody jumped. I jumped myself. When the end -of the world comes and the earth busts in the middle, it won't sound no -louder than that bang did. It was a wooden shutter. The wind was rising -outside, and it flew open and whacked agin' the building. - -Then a big, heavy-set man that hadn't spoke before riz up from one of -the hind seats, like he had heard a dare to fight, and walked slowly -down toward the front. He had a red face, which was considerable -pock-marked, and very deep-set eyes, and a deep voice. - -"Since when," he says, taking up his stand a dozen feet or so in front -of the doctor, "since when has any civilization refused to commit murder -when murder was necessary for its protection?" - -One of the top glasses of that window was out, and with the shutter open -they come a breeze through that fluttered some strips of dirty-coloured -papers, fly-specked and dusty and spider-webbed, that hung on strings -acrost the room, jest below the ceiling. I guess they had been left over -from some Christmas doings. - -"My friend," said the pock-marked man to the doctor--and the funny thing -about it was he didn't talk unfriendly when he said it--"the word you -insist on is just a _word_, like any other word." - -They was a spider rousted out of his web by that disturbance among the -strings and papers. He started down from above on jest one string of -web, seemingly spinning part of it out of himself as he come, the way -they do. I couldn't keep my eyes off'n him. - -"Murder," says the doctor, "is a thing." - -"It is a _word_," says the other man, "_For_ a thing. For a thing which -sometimes seems necessary. Lynching, war, execution, murder--they are -all words for different ways of wiping out human life. Killing sometimes -seems wrong, and sometimes right. But right or wrong, and with one word -or another tacked to it, it is _done_ when a community wants to get rid of -something dangerous to it." - -That there spider was a squat, ugly-looking devil, hunched up on his -string amongst all his crooked legs. The wind would come in little -puffs, and swing him a little way toward the doctor's head, and then -toward the pock-marked man's head, back and forth and back and forth, -between them two as they spoke. It looked to me like he was listening to -what they said and waiting fur something. - -"Murder," says the doctor, "is murder--illegal killing--and you can't -make anything else out of it, or talk anything else into it." - -It come to me all to oncet that that ugly spider was swinging back and -forth like the pendulum on a clock, and marking time. I wondered how -much time they was left in the world. - -"It would be none the less a murder," said the pock-marked man, "if you -were to be hanged after a trial in some county court. Society had been -obliged to deny the privilege of committing murder to the individual and -reserve it for the community. If our communal sense says you should die, -the thing is neither better nor worse than if a sheriff hanged you." - -"I am not to be hanged by a sheriff," says the doctor, very cool and -steady, "because I have committed no crime. I am not to be killed by you -because you dare not, in spite of all you say, outrage the law to that -extent." - -And they looked each other in the eyes so long and hard that every one -else in the schoolhouse held their breath. - -"_Dare_ not?" says the pock-marked man. And he reached forward slow and -took that spider in his hand, and crushed it there, and wiped his hand -along his pants leg. "Dare not? _Yes, but we dare_. The only question for -us men here is whether we dare to let you go free." - -"Your defence of lynching," says Doctor Kirby, "shows that you, at -least, are a man who can think. Tell me what I am accused of?" - -And then the trial begun in earnest. - - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -The doctor acted as his own lawyer, and the pock-marked man, whose name -was Grimes, as the lawyer agin us. You could see that crowd had made up -its mind before-hand, and was only giving us what they called a trial -to satisfy their own conscience. But the fight was betwixt Grimes and -Doctor Kirby the hull way through. - -One witness was a feller that had been in the hotel at Cottonville the -night we struck that place. We had drunk some of his licker. - -"This man admitted himself that he was here to turn the niggers white," -said the witness. - -Doctor Kirby had told 'em what kind of medicine he was selling. We both -remembered it. We both had to admit it. - -The next witness was the feller that run the tavern at Bairdstown. He -had with him, fur proof, a bottle of the stuff we had brought with us. -He told how we had went away and left it there that very morning. - -Another witness told of seeing the doctor talking in the road to that -there nigger bishop. Which any one could of seen it easy enough, fur -they wasn't nothing secret about it. We had met him by accident. But you -could see it made agin us. - -Another witness says he lives not fur from that Big Bethel church. -He says he has noticed the niggers was worked up about something fur -several days. They are keeping the cause of it secret. He went over to -Big Bethel church the night before, he said, and he listened outside one -of the windows to find out what kind of doctrine that crazy bishop was -preaching to them. They was all so worked up, and the power was with -'em so strong, and they was so excited they wouldn't of hearn an army -marching by. He had hearn the bishop deliver a message to his flock from -the Messiah. He had seen him go wild, afterward, and preach an equality -sermon. That was the lying message the old bishop had took to 'em, and -that Sam had told us about. But how was this feller to know it was a -lie? He believed in it, and he told it in a straight-ahead way that -would make any one see he was telling the truth as he thought it to be. - -Then they was six other witnesses. All had been in the gang that lynched -the nigger that day. That nigger had confessed his crime before he was -lynched. He had told how the niggers had been expecting of a Messiah fur -several days, and how the doctor was him. He had died a-preaching and -a-prophesying and thinking to the last minute maybe he was going to get -took up in a chariot of fire. - -Things kept looking worse and worse fur us. They had the story as the -niggers thought it to be. They thought the doctor had deliberately -represented himself as such, instead of which the doctor had refused to -be represented as that there Messiah. More than that, he had never -sold a bottle of that medicine. He had flung the idea of selling it way -behind him jest as soon as he seen what the situation really was in the -black counties. He had even despised himself fur going into it. But the -looks of things was all the other way. - -Then the doctor give his own testimony. - -"Gentlemen," he says, "it is true that I came down here to try out that -stuff in the bottle there, and see if a market could be worked up -for it. It is also true that, after I came here and discovered what -conditions were, I decided not to sell the stuff. I didn't sell any. -About this Messiah business I know very little more than you do. The -situation was created, and I blundered into it. I sent the negroes word -that I was not the person they expected. The bishop lied to them. That -is my whole story." - -But they didn't believe him. Fur it was jest what he would of said if he -had been guilty, as they thought him. And then Grimes gets up and says: - -"Gentlemen, I demand for this prisoner the penalty of death. - -"He has lent himself to a situation calculated to disturb in this county -the peaceful domination of the black race by the white. - -"He is a Northern man. But that is not against him. If this were a case -where leniency were possible, it should count for him, as indicating an -ignorance of the gravity of conditions which confront us here, every day -and all the time. If he were my own brother, I would still demand his -death. - -"Lest he should think my attitude dictated by any lingering sectional -prejudice, I may tell him what you all know--you people among whom I -have lived for thirty years--that I am a Northern man myself. - -"The negro who was lynched to-day might never have committed the crime -he did had not the wild, disturbing dream of equality been stirring in -his brain. Every speech, every look, every action which encourages that -idea is a crime. In this county, where the blacks outnumber us, we must -either rule as masters or be submerged. - -"This man is still believed by the negroes to possess some miraculous -power. He is therefore doubly dangerous. As a sharp warning to them -he must die. His death will do more toward ending the trouble he has -prepared than the death of a dozen negroes. - -"And as God is my witness, I speak and act not through passion, but from -the dictates of conscience." - -He meant it, Grimes did. And when he set down they was a hush. And then -Will, the chairman, begun to call the roll. - -I never been much of a person to have bad dreams or nightmares or things -like that. But ever since that night in that schoolhouse, if I do have a -nightmare, it takes the shape of that roll being called. Every word was -like a spade grating and gritting in damp gravel when a grave is dug. It -sounded so to me. - -"Samuel Palmour, how do you vote?" that chairman would say. - -Samuel Palmour, or whoever it was, would hist himself to his feet, and -he would say something like this: - -"Death." - -He wouldn't say it joyous. He wouldn't say it mad. He would be pale when -he said it, mebby--and mebby trembling. But he would say it like it was -a duty he had to do, that couldn't be got out of. That there trial had -lasted so long they wasn't hot blood left in nobody jest then--only cold -blood, and determination and duty and principle. - -"Buck Hightower," says the chairman, "how do you vote?" - -"Death," says Buck; "death for the man. But say, can't we jest _lick_ the -kid and turn him loose?" - -And so it went, up one side the room and down the other. Grimes had -showed 'em all their duty. Not but what they had intended to do it -before Grimes spoke. But he had put it in such a way they seen it was -something with even _more_ principle to it than they had thought it was -before. - -"Billy Harden," says the chairman, "how do you vote?" Billy was the last -of the bunch. And most had voted fur death. Billy, he opened his mouth -and he squared himself away to orate some. But jest as he done so, the -door opened and Old Daddy Withers stepped in. He had been gone so long -I had plumb forgot him. Right behind him was a tall, spare feller, with -black eyes and straight iron-gray hair. - -"I vote," says Billy Harden, beginning of his speech, "I vote for death. -The reason upon which I base--" - -But Doctor Kirby riz up and interrupted him. - -"You are going to kill me," he said. He was pale but he was quiet, and -he spoke as calm and steady as he ever done in his life. "You are going -to kill me like the crowd of sneaking cowards that you are. And you _are_ -such cowards that you've talked two hours about it, instead of doing it. -And I'll tell you why you've talked so much: because no _one_ of you alone -would dare to do it, and every man of you in the end wants to go away -thinking that the other fellow had the biggest share in it. And no _one_ -of you will fire the gun or pull the rope--you'll do it _all together_, in -a crowd, because each one will want to tell himself he only touched the -rope, or that _his gun_ missed. - -"I know you, by God!" he shouted, flushing up into a passion--and it -brought blood into their faces, too--"I know you right down to your -roots, better than you know yourselves." - -He was losing hold of himself, and roaring like a bull and flinging out -taunts that made 'em squirm. If he wanted the thing over quick, he -was taking jest the way to warm 'em up to it. But I don't think he was -figgering on anything then, or had any plan up his sleeve. He had made -up his mind he was going to die, and he was so mad because he couldn't -get in one good lick first that he was nigh crazy. I looked to see him -lose all sense in a minute, and rush amongst them guns and end it in a -whirl. - -But jest as I figgered he was on his tiptoes fur that, and was getting -up my own sand, he throwed a look my way. And something sobered him. He -stood there digging his finger nails into the palms of his hands fur a -minute, to get himself back. And when he spoke he was sort of husky. - -"That boy there," he says. And then he stops and kind of chokes up. And -in a minute he was begging fur me. He tells 'em I wasn't mixed up in -nothing. He wouldn't of done it fur himself, but he begged fur me. -Nobody had paid much attention to me from the first, except Buck -Hightower had put in a good word fur me. But somehow the doctor had got -the crowd listening to him agin, and they all looked at me. It got next -to me. I seen by the way they was looking, and I felt it in the air, -that they was going to let me off. - -But Doctor Kirby, he had always been my friend. It made me sore fur to -see him thinking I wasn't with him. So I says: - -"You better can that line of talk. They don't get you without they get -me, too. You orter know I ain't a quitter. You give me a pain." - -And the doctor and me stood and looked at each other fur a minute. He -grinned at me, and all of a sudden we was neither one of us much giving -a whoop, fur it had come to us both at oncet what awful good friends we -was with each other. - -But jest then they come a slow, easy-going sort of a voice from the -back part of the room. That feller that had come in along with Old Daddy -Withers come sauntering down the middle aisle, fumbling in his coat -pocket, and speaking as he come. - -"I've been hearing a great deal of talk about killing people in the last -few minutes," he says. - -Everybody rubbered at him. - - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -There was something sort of careless in his voice, like he had jest -dropped in to see a show, and it had come to him sudden that he would -enjoy himself fur a minute or two taking part in it. But he wasn't going -to get _too_ worked up about it, either, fur the show might end by making -him tired, after all. - -As he come down the aisle fumbling in his coat, he stopped and begun to -slap all his pockets. Then his face cleared, and he dived into a -vest pocket. Everybody looked like they thought he was going to pull -something important out of it. But he didn't. All he pulled out was jest -one of these here little ordinary red books of cigarette papers. Then -he dived fur some loose tobacco, and begun to roll one. I noticed his -fingers was long and white and slim and quick. But not excited fingers; -only the kind that seems to say as much as talking says. - -He licked his cigarette, and then he sauntered ahead, looking up. As -he looked up the light fell full on his face fur the first time. He had -high cheek bones and iron-gray hair which he wore rather long, and very -black eyes. As he lifted his head and looked close at Doctor Kirby, a -change went over both their faces. Doctor Kirby's mouth opened like he -was going to speak. So did the other feller's. One side of his mouth -twitched into something that was too surprised to be a grin, and one of -his black eyebrows lifted itself up at the same time. But neither him -nor Doctor Kirby spoke. - -He stuck his cigarette into his mouth and turned sideways from Doctor -Kirby, like he hadn't noticed him pertic'ler. And he turns to the -chairman. - -"Will," he says. And everybody listens. You could see they all knowed -him, and that they all respected him too, by the way they was waiting -to hear what he would say to Will. But they was all impatient and eager, -too, and they wouldn't wait very long, although now they was hushing -each other and leaning forward. - -"Will," he says, very polite and quiet, "can I trouble you for a match?" - -And everybody let go their breath. Some with a snort, like they knowed -they was being trifled with, and it made 'em sore. His eyebrows goes up -agin, like it was awful impolite in folks to snort that-away, and he is -surprised to hear it. And Will, he digs fur a match and finds her and -passes her over. He lights his cigarette, and he draws a good inhale, -and he blows the smoke out like it done him a heap of good. He sees -something so interesting in that little cloud of smoke that everybody -else looks at it, too. - -"Do I understand," he says, "that some one is going to lynch some one, -or something of that sort?" - -"That's about the size of it, colonel," says Will. - -"Um!" he says, "What for?" - -Then everybody starts to talk all at once, half of them jumping to their -feet, and making a perfect hullabaloo of explanations you couldn't get -no sense out of. In the midst of which the colonel takes a chair and -sets down and crosses one leg over the other, swinging the loose foot -and smiling very patient. Which Will remembers he is chairman of that -meeting and pounds fur order. - -"Thank you, Will," says the colonel, like getting order was a personal -favour to him. Then Billy Harden gets the floor, and squares away fur a -longwinded speech telling why. But Buck Hightower jumps up impatient and -says: - -"We've been through all that, Billy. That man there has been tried and -found guilty, colonel, and there's only one thing to do--string him up." - -"Buck, _I_ wouldn't," says the colonel, very mild. - -But that there man Grimes gets up very sober and steady and says: - -"Colonel, you don't understand." And he tells him the hull thing as -he believed it to be--why they has voted the doctor must die, the room -warming up agin as he talks, and the colonel listening very interested. -But you could see by the looks of him that colonel wouldn't never be -interested so much in anything but himself, and his own way of doing -things. In a way he was like a feller that enjoys having one part -of himself stand aside and watch the play-actor game another part of -himself is acting out. - -"Grimes," he says, when the pock-marked man finishes, "I wouldn't. I -really wouldn't." - -"Colonel," says Grimes, showing his knowledge that they are all standing -solid behind him, "_we will!_" - -"Ah," says the colonel, his eyebrows going up, and his face lighting -up like he is really beginning to enjoy himself and is glad he come, -"indeed!" - -"Yes," says Grimes, "_we will!_" - -"But not," says the colonel, "before we have talked the thing over a -bit, I hope?" - -"There's been too much talk here now," yells Buck Hightower, "talk, -talk, till, by God, I'm sick of it! Where's that _rope_?" - -"But, listen to him--listen to the colonel!" some one else sings -out. And then they was another hullabaloo, some yelling "no!" And the -colonel, very patient, rolls himself another smoke and lights it from -the butt of the first one. But finally they quiets down enough so Will -can put it to a vote. Which vote goes fur the colonel to speak. - -"Boys," he begins very quiet, "I wouldn't lynch this man. In the first -place it will look bad in the newspapers, and--" - -"The newspapers be d---d!" says some one. - -"And in the second place," goes on the colonel, "it would be against the -law, and--" - -"The law be d----d!" says Buck Hightower. - -"There's a higher law!" says Grimes. - -"Against the law," says the colonel, rising up and throwing away his -cigarette, and getting interested. - -"I know how you feel about all this negro business. And I feel the same -way. We all know that we must be the negros' masters. Grimes there found -that out when he came South, and the idea pleased him so he hasn't been -able to talk about anything else since. Grimes has turned into what the -Northern newspapers think a typical Southerner is. - -"Boys, this thing of lynching gets to be a habit. There's been a negro -lynched to-day. He's the third in this county in five years. They all -needed killing. If the thing stopped there I wouldn't care so much. But -the habit of illegal killing grows when it gets started. - -"It's grown on you. You're fixing to lynch your first white man now. If -you do, you'll lynch another easier. You'll lynch one for murder and the -next for stealing hogs and the next because he's unpopular and the next -because he happens to dun you for a debt. And in five years life will -be as cheap in Watson County as it is in a New York slum where they feed -immigrants to the factories. You'll all be toting guns and grudges and -trying to lynch each other. - -"The place to stop the thing is where it starts. You can't have it both -ways--you've got to stand pat on the law, or else see the law spit on -right and left, in the end, and _nobody_ safe. It's either law or--" - -"But," says Grimes, "there's a higher law than that on the statute -books. There's--" - -"There's a lot of flub-dub," says the colonel, "about higher laws and -unwritten laws. But we've got high enough law written if we live up to -it. There's--" - -"Colonel Tom Buckner," says Buck Hightower, "what kind of law was it -when you shot Ed Howard fifteen years ago? What--" - -"You're out of order," says the chairman, "Colonel Buckner has the -floor. And I'll remind you, Buck Hightower, that, on the occasion you -drag in, Colonel Buckner didn't do any talking about higher laws or -unwritten laws. He sent word to the sheriff to come and get him if he -dared." - -"Boys," says the colonel, "I'm preaching you higher doctrine than I've -lived by, and I've made no claim to be better or more moral than any of -you. I'm not. I'm in the same boat with all of you, and I tell you -it's up to _all_ of us to stop lynchings in this county--to set our faces -against it. I tell you--" - -"Is that all you've got to say to us, colonel?" - -The question come out of a group that had drawed nearer together -whilst the colonel was talking. They was tired of listening to talk and -arguments, and showed it. - -The colonel stopped speaking short when they flung that question at him. -His face changed. He turned serious all over. And he let loose jest one -word: - -"_No_!" - -Not very loud, but with a ring in it that sounded like danger. And he -got 'em waiting agin, and hanging on his words. - -"No!" he repeats, louder, "not all. I have this to say to you--" - -And he paused agin, pointing one long white finger at the crowd-- - -"_If you lynch this man you must kill me first!_" - -I couldn't get away from thinking, as he stood there making them take -that in, that they was something like a play-actor about him. But he was -in earnest, and he would play it to the end, fur he liked the feelings -it made circulate through his frame. And they saw he was in earnest. - -"You'll lynch him, will you?" he says, a kind of passion getting into -his voice fur the first time, and his eyes glittering. "You think you -will? Well, you _won't_! - -"You won't because _I_ say _not_. Do you hear? I came here to-night to -save him. - -"You might string _him_ up and not be called to account for it. But how -about _me_?" - -He took a step forward, and, looking from face to face with a dare in -his eyes, he went on: - -"Is there a man among you fool enough to think you could kill Tom -Buckner and not pay for it?" - -He let 'em all think of that for jest another minute before he spoke -agin. His face was as white as a piece of paper, and his nostrils was -working, but everything else about him was quiet. He looked the master -of them all as he stood there, Colonel Tom Buckner did--straight and -splendid and keen. And they felt the danger in him, and they felt jest -how fur he would go, now he was started. - -"You didn't want to listen to me a bit ago," he said. "Now you must. -Listen and choose. You can't kill that man unless you kill me too. - -"_Try it, if you think you can!_" - -He reached over and took from the teacher's desk the sheet of paper Will -had used to check off the name of each man and how he voted. He held it -up in front of him and every man looked at it. - -"You know me," he says. "You know I do not break my word. And I promise -you that unless you do kill me here tonight--yes, as God is my witness, -I _threaten_ you--I will spend every dollar I own and every atom of -influence I possess to bring each one of you to justice for that man's -murder." - -They knowed, that crowd did, that killing a man like Colonel Buckner--a -leader and a big man in that part of the state--was a different -proposition from killing a stranger like Doctor Kirby. The sense of what -it would mean to kill Colonel Buckner was sinking into 'em, and showing -on their faces. And no one could look at him standing there, with his -determination blazing out of him, and not understand that unless they -did kill him as well as Doctor Kirby he'd do jest what he said. - -"I told you," he said, not raising his voice, but dropping it, and -making it somehow come creeping nearer to every one by doing that, "I -told you the first white man you lynched would lead to other lynchings. -Let me show you what you're up against to-night. - -"Kill the man and the boy here, and you must kill me. Kill me, and you -must kill Old Man Withers, too." - -Every one turned toward the door as he mentioned Old Man Withers. He had -never been very far into the room. - -"Oh, he's gone," said Colonel Tom, as they turned toward the door, and -then looked at each other. "Gone home. Gone home with the name of every -man present. Don't you see you'd have to kill Old Man Withers too, if -you killed me? And then, _his wife_! And then--how many more? - -"Do you see it widen--that pool of blood? Do you see it spread and -spread?" - -He looked down at the floor, like he really seen it there. He had 'em -going now. They showed it. - -"If you shed one drop," he went on, "you must shed more. Can't you see -it--widening and deepening, widening and deepening, till you're wading -knee deep in it--till it climbs to your waists--till it climbs to your -throats and chokes you?" - -It was a horrible idea, the way he played that there pool of blood and -he shuddered like he felt it climbing up himself. And they felt it. A -few men can't kill a hull, dern county and get away with it. The way he -put it that's what they was up against. - -"Now," says Colonel Tom, "what man among you wants to start it?" - -Nobody moved. He waited a minute. Still nobody moved. They all looked -at him. It was awful plain jest where they would have to begin. It was -awful plain jest what it would all end up in. And I guess when they -looked at him standing there, so fine and straight and splendid, it jest -seemed plumb unpossible to make a move. There was a spirit in him that -couldn't be killed. Doctor Kirby said afterward that was what come of -being real "quality," which was what Colonel Tom was--it was that in him -that licked 'em. It was the best part of their own selves, and the best -part of their own country, speaking out of him to them, that done it. -Mebby so. Anyhow, after a minute more of that strain, a feller by the -door picks up his gun out of the corner with a scrape, and hists it to -his shoulder and walks out. And then Colonel Tom says to Will, with his -eyebrow going up, and that one-sided grin coming onto his face agin: - -"Will, perhaps a motion to adjourn would be in order?" - - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -So many different kinds of feeling had been chasing around inside of me -that I had numb spots in my emotional ornaments and intellectual organs. -The room cleared out of everybody but Doctor Kirby and Colonel Tom and -me. But the sound of the crowd going into the road, and their footsteps -dying away, and then after that their voices quitting, all made but very -little sense to me. I could scarcely realize that the danger was over. - -I hadn't been paying much attention to Doctor Kirby while the colonel -was making that grandstand play of his'n, and getting away with it. -Doctor Kirby was setting in his chair with his head sort of sunk on his -chest. I guess he was having a hard time himself to realize that all -the danger was past. But mebby it wasn't that--he looked like he might -really of forgot where he was fur a minute, and might be thinking of -something that had happened a long time ago. - -The colonel was leaning up agin the teacher's desk, smoking and looking -at Doctor Kirby. Doctor Kirby turns around toward the colonel. - -"You have saved my life," he says, getting up out of his chair, like -he had a notion to step over and thank him fur it, but was somehow not -quite sure how that would be took. - -The colonel looks at him silent fur a second, and then he says, without -smiling: - -"Do you flatter yourself it was because I think it worth anything?" - -The doctor don't answer, and then the colonel says: - -"Has it occurred to you that I may have saved it because I want it?" - -"_Want_ it?" - -"Do you know of any one who has a better right to _take_ it than I have? -Perhaps I saved it because it _belongs_ to me--do you suppose I want any -one else to kill what I have the best right to kill?" - -"Tom," says Doctor Kirby, really puzzled, to judge from his actions, "I -don't understand what makes you say you have the right to take my life." - -"Dave, where is my sister buried?" asts Colonel Tom. - -"Buried?" says Doctor Kirby. "My God, Tom, is she _dead_?" - -"I ask you," says Colonel Tom. - -"And I ask you," says Doctor Kirby. - -And they looked at each other, both wonderized, and trying to -understand. And it busted on me all at oncet who them two men really -was. - -I orter knowed it sooner. When the colonel was first called Colonel Tom -Buckner it struck me I knowed the name, and knowed something about it. -But things which was my own consarns was attracting my attention so hard -I couldn't remember what it was I orter know about that name. Then I -seen him and Doctor Kirby knowed each other when they got that first -square look. That orter of put me on the track, that and a lot of other -things that had happened before. But I didn't piece things together like -I orter done. - -It wasn't until Colonel Tom Buckner called him "Dave" and ast him about -his sister that I seen who Doctor Kirby must really be. - -_He was that there david armstrong!_ - -And the brother of the girl he had run off with had jest saved his life. -By the way he was talking, he had saved it simply because he thought he -had the first call on what to do with it. - -"Where is she?" asts Colonel Tom. - -"I ask you," says Doctor Kirby--or David Armstrong--agin. - -Well, I thinks to myself, here is where Daniel puts one acrost the -plate. And I breaks in: - -"You both got another guess coming," I says. "She ain't buried -anywheres. She ain't even dead. She's living in a little town in Indiany -called Athens--or she was about eighteen months ago." - -They both looks at me like they thinks I am crazy. - -"What do you know about it?" says Doctor Kirby. - -"Are you David Armstrong?" says I. - -"Yes," says he. - -"Well," I says, "you spent four or five days within a stone's throw of -her a year ago last summer, and she knowed it was you and hid herself -away from you." - -Then I tells them about how I first happened to hear of David Armstrong, -and all I had hearn from Martha. And how I had stayed at the Davises -in Tennessee and got some more of the same story from George, the old -nigger there. - -"But, Danny," says the doctor, "why didn't you tell me all this?" - -I was jest going to say that not knowing he was that there David -Armstrong I didn't think it any of his business, when Colonel Tom, he -says to Doctor Kirby--I mean to David Armstrong: - -"Why should you be concerned as to her whereabouts? You ruined her life -and then deserted her." - -Doctor Kirby--I mean David Armstrong--stands there with the blood going -up his face into his forehead slow and red. - -"Tom," he says, "you and I seem to be working at cross purposes. Maybe -it would help some if you would tell me just how badly you think I -treated Lucy." - -"You ruined her life, and then deserted her," says Colonel Tom agin, -looking at him hard. - -"I _didn't_ desert her," said Doctor Kirby. "She got disgusted and left -_me_. Left me without a chance to explain myself. As far as ruining her -life is concerned, I suppose that when I married her--" - -"Married her!" cries out the colonel. And David Armstrong stares at him -with his mouth open. - -"My God! Tom," he says, "did you think--?" - -And they both come to another standstill. And then they talked some more -and only got more mixed up than ever. Fur the doctor thinks she has left -him, and Colonel Tom thinks he has left her. - -"Tom," says the doctor, "suppose you let me tell my story, and you'll -see why Lucy left me." - -Him and Colonel Tom had been chums together when they went through -Princeton, it seems--I picked that up from the talk and some of his -story I learned afterward. He had come from Ohio in the beginning, and -his dad had had considerable money. Which he had enjoyed spending of it, -and when he was a young feller never liked to work at nothing else. It -suited him. Colonel Tom, he was considerable like him in that way. So -they was good pals when they was to that school together. They both quit -about the same time. A couple of years after that, when they was -both about twenty-five or six years old, they run acrost each other -accidental in New York one autumn. - -The doctor, he was there figgering on going to work at something or -other, but they was so many things to do he was finding it hard to make -a choice. His father was dead by that time, and looking fur a job in -New York, the way he had been doing it, was awful expensive, and he was -running short of money. His father had let him spend so much whilst -he was alive he was very disappointed to find out he couldn't keep on -forever looking fur work that-a-way. - -So Colonel Tom says why not come down home into Tennessee with him fur -a while, and they will both try and figger out what he orter go to work -at. It was the fall of the year, and they was purty good hunting around -there where Colonel Tom lived, and Dave hadn't never been South any, and -so he goes. He figgers he better take a good, long vacation, anyhow. Fur -if he goes to work that winter or the next spring, and ties up with some -job that keeps him in an office, there may be months and months pass by -before he has another chance at a vacation. That is the worst part of a -job--I found that out myself--you never can tell when you are going to -get shut of it, once you are fool enough to start in. - -In Tennessee he had met Miss Lucy. Which her wedding to Prent McMakin -was billed fur to come off about the first of November, jest a month -away. - -"I don't know whether I ever told you or not," says the doctor, "but I -was engaged to be married myself, Tom, when I went down to your place. -That was what started all the trouble. - -"You know engagements are like vaccination--sometimes they take, and -sometimes they don't. Of course, I had thought at one time I was in love -with this girl I was engaged to. When I found out I wasn't, I should -have told her so right away. But I didn't. I thought that she would -get tired of me after a while and turn me loose. I gave her plenty of -chances to turn me loose. I wanted her to break the engagement instead -of me. But she wouldn't take the hints. She hung on like an Ohio Grand -Army veteran to a country post-office. About half the time I didn't read -her letters, and about nineteen twentieths of the time I didn't answer -them. They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But it isn't -so--it makes them all the fonder of you. I got into the habit of -thinking that while Emma might be engaged to me, I wasn't engaged to -Emma. Not but what Emma was a nice girl, you know, but-- - -"Well, I met Lucy. We fell in love with each other. It just happened. -I kept intending to write to the other girl and tell her plainly that -everything was off. But I kept postponing it. It seemed like a deuce of -a hard job to tackle. - -"But, finally, I did write her. That was the very day Lucy promised to -throw Prent McMakin over and marry me. You know how determined all your -people were that Lucy should marry McMakin, Tom. They had brought her up -with the idea that she was going to, and, of course, she was bored with -him for that reason. - -"We decided the best plan would be to slip away quietly and get married. -We knew it would raise a row. But there was bound to be a row anyhow -when they found she intended to marry me instead of McMakin. So we -figured we might just as well be away from there. - -"We left your place early on the morning of October 31, 1888--do you -remember the date, Tom? We took the train for Clarksville, Tennessee, -and got there about two o'clock that afternoon. I suppose you have been -in that interesting centre of the tobacco industry. If you have you may -remember that the courthouse of Montgomery County is right across the -street from the best hotel. I got a license and a preacher without any -trouble, and we were married in the hotel parlour that afternoon. One of -the hotel clerks and the county clerk himself were the witnesses. - -"We went to Cincinnati and from there to Chicago. There we got rooms out -on the South Side--Hyde Park, they called it. And I got me a job. I had -some money left, but not enough to buy kohinoors and race-horses with. -Beside, I really wanted to get to work--wanted it for the first time -in my life. You remember young Clayton in our class? He and some other -enterprising citizens had a building and loan association. Such things -are no doubt immoral, but I went to work for him. - -"We had been in Chicago a week when Lucy wrote home what she had done, -and begged forgiveness for being so abrupt about it. At least, I suppose -that is what she wrote. It was--" - -"I remember exactly what she wrote," says Colonel Tom. - -"I never knew exactly," says the doctor. "The same mail that brought -word from you that your grandfather had had some sort of a stroke, as a -consequence of our elopement, brought also two letters from Emma. They -had been forwarded from New York to Tennessee, and you had forwarded -them to Chicago. - -"Those letters began the trouble. You see, I hadn't told Emma when I -wrote breaking off the engagement that I was going to get married the -next day. And Emma hadn't received my letter, or else had made up her -mind to ignore it. Anyhow, those letters were regular love-letters. - -"I hadn't really read one of Emma's letters for months. But somehow -I couldn't help reading these. I had forgotten what a gift for the -expression of sentiment Emma had. She fairly revelled in it, Tom. Those -letters were simply writhing with clinging female adjectives. They -_squirmed_ with affection. - -"You may remember that Lucy was a rather jealous sort of a person. -Right in the midst of her alarm and grief and self-reproach over her -grandfather, and in the midst of my efforts to comfort her, she spied -the feminine handwriting on those two letters. I had glanced through -them hurriedly, and laid them on the table. - -"Tom, I was in bad. The dates on them, you know, were so _recent_. I -didn't want Lucy to read them. But I didn't dare to _act_ as if I didn't -want her to. So I handed them over. - -"I suppose--to a bride who had only been married a little more than a -week--and who had hurt her grandfather nearly to death in the marrying, -those letters must have sounded rather odd. I tried to explain. But -all my explanations only seemed to make the case worse for me. Lucy was -furiously jealous. We really had a devil of a row before we were through -with it. I tried to tell her that I loved no one but her. She pointed -out that I must have said much the same sort of thing to Emma. She said -she was almost as sorry for Emma as she was for herself. When Lucy -got through with me, Tom, I looked like thirty cents and felt like -twenty-five of that was plugged. - -"I didn't have sense enough to know that it was most of it grief over -her grandfather, and nerves and hysteria, and the fact that she was -only eighteen years old and lonely, and that being a bride had a certain -amount to do with it. She had told me that I was a beast, and made me -feel like one; and I took the whole thing hard and believed her. I made -a fine, five-act tragedy out of a jealous fit I might have softened into -comedy if I had had the wit. - -"I wasn't so very old myself, and I hadn't ever been married before. I -should have kept my mouth shut until it was all over, and then when she -began to cry I should have coaxed her up and made her feel like I was -the only solid thing to hang on to in the whole world. - -"But the bottom had dropped out of the universe for me. She had said she -hated me. I was fool enough to believe her. I went downtown and began -to drink. I come home late that night. The poor girl had been waiting up -for me--waiting for hours, and becoming more and more frightened when I -didn't show up. She was over her jealous fit, I suppose. If I had come -home in good shape, or in anything like it, we would have made up then -and there. But my condition stopped all that. I wasn't so drunk but that -I saw her face change when she let me in. She was disgusted. - -"In the morning I was sick and feverish. I was more than disgusted with -myself. I was in despair. If she had hated me before--and she had said -she did--what must she do now? It seemed to me that I had sunk so far -beneath her that it would take years to get back. It didn't seem worth -while making any plea for myself. You see, I was young and had serious -streaks all through me. So when she told me that she had written home -again, and was going back--was going to leave me, I didn't see that -it was only a bluff. I didn't see that she was really only waiting to -forgive me, if I gave her a chance. I started downtown to the building -and loan office, wondering when she would leave, and if there was -anything I could do to make her change her mind. I must repeat again -that I was a fool--that I needed only to speak one word, had I but known -it. - -"If I had gone straight to work, everything might have come around all -right even then. But I didn't. I had that what's-the-use feeling. And I -stopped in at the Palmer House bar to get something to sort of pull me -together. - -"While I was there, who should come up to the bar and order a drink but -Prent McMakin." - -"Yes!" says Colonel Tom, as near excited as he ever got. - -"Yes," says Armstrong, "nobody else. We saw each other in the mirror -behind the bar. I don't know whether you ever noticed it or not, Tom, -but McMakin's eyes had a way of looking almost like cross-eyes when he -was startled or excited. They were a good deal too near together at any -time. He gave me such a look when our eyes met in the mirror that, for -an instant, I thought that he intended to do me some mischief--shoot me, -you know, for taking his bride-to-be away from him, or some fool thing -like that. But as we turned toward each other I saw he had no intention -of that sort." - -"Hadn't he?" says Colonel Tom, mighty interested. - -"No," says the doctor, looking at Colonel Tom very puzzled, "did you -think he had?" - -"Yes, I did," says the colonel, right thoughtful. - -"On the contrary," says Armstrong, "we had a drink together. And he -congratulated me. Made me quite a little speech, in fact; one of the -flowery kind, you know, Tom, and said that he bore me no rancour, and -all that." - -"The deuce he did!" says Colonel Tom, very low, like he was talking to -himself. "And then what?" - -"Then," says the doctor, "then--let me see--it's all a long time ago, -you know, and McMakin's part in the whole thing isn't really important." - -"I'm not so sure it isn't important," says the colonel, "but go on." - -"Then," says Armstrong, "we had another drink together. In fact, a -lot of them. We got awfully friendly. And like a fool I told him of my -quarrel with Lucy." - -"_Like_ a fool," says Colonel Tom, nodding his head. "Go on." - -"There isn't much more to tell," says the doctor, "except that I made -a worse idiot of myself yet, and left McMakin about two o'clock in the -afternoon, as near as I can recollect. Somewhere about ten o'clock that -night I went home. Lucy was gone. I haven't seen her since." - -"Dave," says Colonel Tom, "did McMakin happen to mention to you, that -day, just why he was in Chicago?" - -"I suppose so," says the doctor. "I don't know. Maybe not. That was -twenty years ago. Why?" - -"Because," says Colonel Tom, very grim and quiet, "because your first -thought as to his intention when he met you in the bar was _my_ idea -also. I thought he went to Chicago to settle with you. You see, I got to -Chicago that same afternoon." - -"The same day?" - -"Yes. We were to have come together. But I missed the train, and he got -there a day ahead of me. He was waiting at the hotel for me to join him, -and then we were going to look you up together. He found you first and I -never did find you." - -"But I don't exactly understand," says the doctor. "You say he had the -idea of shooting me." - -"I don't understand everything myself," says Colonel Tom. "But I do -understand that Prent McMakin must have played some sort of a two-faced -game. He never said a word to me about having seen you. - -"Listen," he goes on. "When you and Lucy ran away it nearly killed our -grandfather. In fact, it finally did kill him. When we got Lucy's letter -that told you were in Chicago I went up to bring her back home. We -didn't know what we were going to do, McMakin and I, but we were both -agreed that you needed killing. And he swore that he would marry Lucy -anyhow, even--" - -"_Marry her!_" sings out the doctor, "but we _were_ married." - -"Dave," Colonel Tom says very slow and steady, "you keep _saying_ you were -married. But it's strange--it's right _strange_ about that marriage." - -And he looked at the doctor hard and close, like he would drag the truth -out of him, and the doctor met his look free and open. You would of -thought Colonel Tom was saying with his look: "You _must_ tell me the -truth." And the doctor with his was answering: "I _have_ told you the -truth." - -"But, Tom," says the doctor, "that letter she wrote you from Chicago -must--" - -"Do you know what Lucy wrote?" interrupts Colonel Tom. "I remember -exactly. It was simply: '_Forgive me. I loved him so. I am happy. I know -it is wrong, but I love him so you must forgive me_.'" - -"But couldn't you tell from _that_ we were married?" cries out the doctor. - -"She didn't mention it," says Colonel Tom. - -"She supposed that her own family had enough faith in her to take it for -granted," says the doctor, very scornful, his face getting red. - -"But wait, Dave," says Colonel Tom, quiet and cool. "Don't bluster with -me. There are still a lot of things to be explained. And that marriage -is one of them. - -"To go back a bit. You say you got to the house somewhere around ten -o'clock that evening and found Lucy gone. Do you remember the day of the -month?" - -"It was November 14, 1888." - -"Exactly," says Colonel Tom. "I got to Chicago at six o'clock of that -very day. And I went at once to the address in Lucy's letter. I got -there between seven and eight o'clock. She was gone. My thought was that -you must have got wind of my coming and persuaded her to leave with you -in order to avoid me--although I didn't see how you could know when I -would get there, either, when I thought it over." - -"And you have never seen her since," says Armstrong, pondering. - -"I _have_ seen her since," says Colonel Tom, "and that is one thing that -makes me say your story needs further explanation." - -"But where--when--did you see her?" asts the doctor, mighty excited. - -"I am coming to that. I went back home again. And in July of the next -year I heard from her." - -"Heard from her?" - -"By letter. She was in Galesburg, Illinois, if you know where that is. -She was living there alone. And she was almost destitute. I wrote her to -come home. She would not. But she had to live. I got rid of some of our -property in Tennessee, and took enough cash up there with me to fix her, -in a decent sort of way, for the rest of her life, and put it in the -bank. I was with her there for ten days; then I went back home to get -Aunt Lucy Davis to help me in another effort to persuade her to return. -But when I got back North with Aunt Lucy she had gone." - -"Gone?" - -"Yes, and when we returned without her to Tennessee there was a letter -telling us not to try to find her. We thought--I thought--that she might -have taken up with you once again." - -"But, my God! Tom," the doctor busts out, "you were with her ten days -there in Galesburg! Didn't she tell you then--couldn't you tell from the -way she acted--that she had married me?" - -"That's the odd thing, Dave," says the colonel, very slow and -thoughtful. "That's what is so very strange about it all. I merely -assumed by my attitude that you were not married, and she let me assume -it without a protest." - -"But did you ask her?" - -"Ask her? No. Can't you see that there was no reason why I should ask -her? I was sure. And being sure of it, naturally I didn't talk about it -to her. You can understand that I wouldn't, can't you? In fact, I never -mentioned you to her. She never mentioned you to me." - -"You must have mistaken her, Tom." - -"I don't think it's possible, Dave," said the colonel. "You can mistake -words and explanations a good deal easier than you can mistake an -atmosphere. No, Dave, I tell you that there's something odd about -it--married or not, Lucy didn't _believe_ herself married the last time I -saw her." - -"But she _must_ have known," says the doctor, as much to himself as to the -colonel. "She _must_ have known." Any one could of told by the way he said -it that he wasn't lying. I could see that Colonel Tom believed in him, -too. They was both sicking their intellects onto the job of figgering -out how it was Lucy didn't know. Finally the doctor says very -thoughtful: - -"Whatever became of Prentiss McMakin, Tom?" - -"Dead," says Colonel Tom, "quite a while ago." - -"H-m," says the doctor, still thinking hard. And then looks at Colonel -Tom like they was an idea in his head. Which he don't speak her out. But -Colonel Tom seems to understand. - -"Yes," he says, nodding his head. "I think you are on the right track -now. Yes--I shouldn't wonder." - -Well, they puts this and that together, and they agrees that whatever -happened to make things hard to explain must of happened on that day -that Prentiss McMakin met the doctor in the bar-room, and didn't shoot -him, as he had made his brags he would. Must of happened between the -time that afternoon when Prentiss McMakin left the doctor and the time -Colonel Tom went out to see his sister and found she had went. Must of -happened somehow through Prent McMakin. - -We goes home with Colonel Tom that night. And the next day all three of -us is on our way to Athens, Indiany, where I had seen Miss Lucy at. - - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -Fur my part, as the train kept getting further and further north, my -feelings kept getting more and more mixed. It come to me that I might be -steering straight fur a bunch of trouble. The feeling that sadness and -melancholy and seriousness was laying ahead of me kept me from really -enjoying them dollar-apiece meals on the train. It was Martha that done -it. All this past and gone love story I had been hearing about reminded -me of Martha. And I was steering straight toward her, and no way out of -it. How did I know but what that there girl might be expecting fur to -marry me, or something like that? Not but what I was awful in love with -her whilst we was together. But it hadn't really set in on me very -deep. I hadn't forgot about her right away. But purty soon I had got to -forgetting her oftener than I remembered her. And now it wasn't no use -talking--I jest wasn't in love with Martha no more, and didn't have -no ambition to be. I had went around the country a good bit, and got -intrusted in other things, and saw several other girls I liked purty -well. Keeping steady in love with jest one girl is mighty hard if you -are moving around a good bit. - -But I was considerable worried about Martha. She was an awful romanceful -kind of girl. And even the most sensible kind is said to be fools about -getting their hearts broke and pining away and dying over a feller. I -would hate to think Martha had pined herself sick. - -I couldn't shut my eyes to the fact we was engaged to each other legal, -all right. And if she wanted to act mean about it and take it to a court -it would likely be binding on me. Then I says to myself is she is mean -enough to do that I'll be derned if I don't go to jail before I marry -her, and stay there. - -And then my conscience got to working inside of me agin. And a picture -of her getting thin and not eating her vittles regular and waiting and -waiting fur me to show up, and me never doing it, come to me. And I felt -sorry fur poor Martha, and thought mebby I would marry her jest to keep -her from dying. Fur you would feel purty tough if a girl was to get so -stuck on you it killed her. Not that I ever seen that really happen, -either; but first and last there has been considerable talk about it. - -It wasn't but what I liked Martha well enough. It was the idea of -getting married, and staying married, made me feel so anxious. Being -married may work out all right fur some folks. But I knowed it never -would work any with me. Or not fur long. Because why should I want to be -tied down to one place, or have a steady job? That would be a mean way -to live. - -Of course, with a person that was the doctor's age it would be -different. He had done his running around and would be willing to settle -down now, I guessed. That is, if he could get his differences with this -here Buckner family patched up satisfactory. I wondered whether he would -be able to or not. Him and Colonel Tom were talking constant on the -train all the way up. From the little stretches of their talk I couldn't -help hearing, I guessed each one was telling the other all that had -happened to him in the time that had passed by. Colonel Tom what kind -of a life he had lived, and how he had married and his wife had died and -left him a widower without any kids. And the doctor--it was always -hard fur me to get to calling him anything but Doctor Kirby--how he had -happened to start out with a good chancet in life and turn into jest a -travelling fakir. - -Well, I thinks to myself now that he has got to be that, mebby her and -him won't suit so well now, even if they does get their differences -patched up. Fur all the forgiving in the world ain't going to change -things, or make them no different. But, so long as the doctor appeared -to want to find her so derned bad, I was awful glad I had been the means -of getting him and Miss Lucy together. He had done a lot fur me, first -and last, the doctor had, and I felt like it helped pay him a little. -Though if they was to settle down like married folks I would feel like a -good old sport was spoiled in the doctor, too. - -We had to change cars at Indianapolis to get to that there little town. -We was due to reach it about two o'clock in the afternoon. And the -nearer we got to the place the nervouser and nervouser all three of us -become. And not owning we was. The last hour before we hit the place, I -took a drink of water every three minutes, I was so nervous. And when -we come into the town I was already standing out onto the platform. I -wouldn't of been surprised to find Martha and Miss Lucy down there to -the station. But, of course, they wasn't. Fur some reason I felt glad -they wasn't. - -"Now," I says to them two, as we got off the train, "foller me and I -will show you the house." - -Everybody rubbers at strangers in a country town, and wonders why they -have come, and what they is selling, and if they are mebby going to -start a new grain elevator, or buy land, or what. The usual ones around -the depot rubbered at us, and I hearn one geezer say to another: - -"See that big feller there? He was through here a year or two ago -selling patent medicine." - -[Illustration: 0353] - -"You don't say so!" says the other one, like it was something important, -like a president or a circus had come, and his eyes a-bugging out. And -the doctor hearn them, too. Fur some reason or other he flushed up and -cut a look out of the corner of his eye at Colonel Tom. - -We went right through the main street and out toward the edge of town, -by the crick, where Miss Lucy's house was. And, if anything, all of us -feeling nervouser yet. And saying nothing and not looking at each other. -And Colonel Tom rolling cigarettes and fumbling fur matches and lighting -them and slinging them away. Fur how does anybody know how women is -going to take even the most ordinary little things? - -I knowed the way well enough, and where the house was, but as we went -around the turn in the road I run acrost a surprised feeling. I come -onto the place where our campfire had been them nights we was there. -Looey had drug an old fence post onto the fire one night, and the post -had only burned half up. The butt end of it, all charred and flaked, -was still laying in the grass and weeds there. It hit me with a queer -feeling--like it was only yesterday that fire had been lit there. And -yet I knowed it had been a year and a half ago. - -Well, it has always been my luck to run into things without the right -kind of a lie fixed up ahead of time. They was three or four purty good -stories I had been trying over in my head to tell Martha when I seen -her. Any one of them stories might of done all right; but I hadn't -decided _which_ one to use. And, of course, I run plumb into Martha. She -was standing by the gate, which was about twenty yards from the veranda. -And all four lies popped into my head at oncet, and got so mixed up -with one another there, I seen right off it was useless to try to tell -anything that sounded straight. Besides, when you are in the fix I was -in, what can you tell a girl anyhow? - -So I jest says to her: - -"Hullo!" - -Martha, she had been fussing around some flower bushes with a pair of -shears and gloves on. She looks up when I says that, and she sizes us -all up standing by the gate, and her eyes pops open, and so does her -mouth, and she is so surprised to see me she drops her shears. - -And she looks scared, too. - -"Is Miss Buckner at home?" asts Colonel Tom, lifting his hat very -polite. - -"Miss B-B-Buckner?" Martha stutters, very scared-like, and not taking -her eyes off of me to answer him. - -"Miss Hampton, Martha," I says. - -"Y-y-y-es, s-sh-she is," says Martha. I wondered what was the matter -with her. - -It is always my luck to get left all alone with my troubles. The doctor -and the colonel, they walked right past us when she said yes, and up -toward the house, and left her and me standing there. I could of went -along and butted in, mebby. But I says to myself I will have the derned -thing out here and now, and know the worst. And I was so interested in -my trouble and Martha that I didn't even notice if Miss Lucy met 'em at -the door, and if so, how she acted. When I next looked up they was all -in the house. - -"Martha--" I begins. But she breaks in. - -"Danny," she says, looking like she is going to cry, "don't l-l-look at -me l-l-like that. If you knew _all_ you wouldn't blame me. You--" - -"Wouldn't blame you fur what?" I asts her. - -"I know it's wrong of me," she says, begging-like. - -"Mebby it is and mebby it ain't," I says. "But what is it?" - -"But you never wrote to me," she says. - -"You never wrote to me," I says, not wanting her to get the best of me, -whatever it was she might be talking about. - -"And then _he_ came to town!--" - -"Who?" I asts her. - -"Don't you know?" she says. "The man I am going to marry." - -When she said that I felt, all of a sudden, like when you are broke and -hungry and run acrost a half dollar you had forgot about in your other -pants. I was so glad I jumped. - -"Great guns!" I says. - -I had never really knowed what being glad was before. - -"Oh, Danny, Danny," she says, putting her hands in front of her face, -"and here you have come to claim me for your bride!" - -Which showed me why she had looked so scared. That there girl had went -and got engaged to another feller. And had been laying awake nights -suffering fur fear I would turn up agin. And now I had. Looey, he always -said never to trust a woman! - -"Martha," I says, "you ain't acted right with me." - -"Oh, Danny, Danny," she says, "I know it! I know it!" - -"Some fellers in my place," I says, "would raise a dickens of a row." - -"I _did_ love you once," she says, looking at me from between her fingers. - -"Yes," says I, acting real melancholy, "you did. And now you've quit it, -they don't seem to me to be nothing left to live fur." Martha, she was -an awful romanceful girl. I got the notion that mebby she was enjoying -her own remorsefulness a little bit. I fetched a deep sigh and I says: - -"Some fellers would kill theirselves on the spot!" - -"Oh!--Oh!--Oh!--" says Martha. - -"But, Martha," says I, "I ain't that mean. I ain't going to do that." - -That dern girl ackshellay give me a disappointed look! If anything, she -was jest a bit _too_ romanceful, Martha was. - -"No," says I, cheering up a little, "I am going to do something they -ain't many fellers would do, Martha. I'm going to forgive you. Free and -fair and open. And give you back my half of that ring, and--" - -Dern it! I had forgot I had lost that half of that there ring! I -remembered so quick it stopped me. - -"You always kept it, Danny?" she asts me, very soft-spoken, so as not to -give pain to one so faithful and so noble as what I was. "Let me see it, -Danny." - -I made like I was feeling through all my pockets fur it. But that -couldn't last forever. I run out of pockets purty soon. And her face -begun to show she was smelling a rat. Finally I says: - -"These ain't my other clothes--it must be in them." - -"Danny," she says, "I believe you _lost_ it." - -"Martha," I says, taking a chancet, "you know you lost _your_ half!" - -She owns up she has lost it a long while ago. And when she lost it, she -says, she knowed that was fate and that our love was omened in under an -evil star. And who was she, she says, to struggle agin fate? - -"Martha," I says, "I'll be honest with you. Fate got away with my -half too one day when I didn't know they was crooks like her sticking -around." - -Well, I seen that girl seen through me then. Martha was awful smart -sometimes. And each one was so derned tickled the other one wasn't going -to do any pining away we like to of fell into love all over agin. But -not quite. Fur neither one would ever trust the other one agin. So we -felt more comfortable with each other. You ain't never comfortable with -a person you know is more honest than you be. - -"But," says Martha, after a minute, "if you didn't come back to make me -marry you, what does Doctor Kirby want to see Miss Hampton about? And -who was that with him?" - -I had been nigh to forgetting the main thing we had all come here fur, -in my gladness at getting rid of any danger of marrying Martha. But it -come to me all to oncet I had been missing a lot that must be taking -place inside that house. I had even missed the way they first looked -when she met 'em at the door, and I wouldn't of missed that fur a lot. -And I seen all to oncet what a big piece of news it will be to Martha. - -"Martha," I says, "they ain't no Dr. Hartley L. Kirby. The man known as -such is David Armstrong!" - -I never seen any one so peetrified as Martha was fur a minute. - -"Yes," says I, "and the other one is Miss Lucy's brother. And they -are all three in there straightening themselves out and finding where -everybody gets off at, and why. One of these here serious times you read -about. And you and me are missing it all, like a couple of gumps. How -can we hear?" - -Martha says she don't know. - -"You _think_," I told her. "We've wasted five good minutes already. I've -_got_ to hear the rest of it. Where would they be?" - -Martha guesses they will all be in the sitting room, which has got the -best chairs in it. - -"What is next to it? A back parlour, or a bedroom, or what?" I was -thinking of how I happened to overhear Perfessor Booth and his fambly -that-a-way. - -Martha says they is nothing like that to be tried. - -"Martha," I says, "this is serious. This here story they are thrashing -out in there is the only derned sure-enough romanceful story either -you or me is ever lible to run up against personal in all our lives. It -would of been a good deal nicer if they had ast us in to see the wind-up -of it. Fur, if it hadn't of been fur me, they never would of been -reunited and rejuvenated the way they be. But some people get stingy -streaks with their concerns. You think!" - -Martha, she says: "Danny, it wouldn't be honourable to listen." - -"Martha," I tells her, "after the way you and me went and jilted each -other, what kind of senses of honour have _we_ got to brag about?" - -She remembers that the spare bedroom is right over the sitting room. -The house is heated with stoves in the winter time. There is a register -right through the floor of the spare bedroom and the ceiling of -the sitting room. Not the kind of a register that comes from a -twisted-around shaft in a house that uses furnace heat. But jest really -a hole in the floor, with a cast-iron grating, to let the heat from -the room below into the one above. She says she guesses two people that -wasn't so very honourable might sneak into the house the back way, and -up the back stairs, and into the spare bedroom, and lay down on their -stummicks on the floor, being careful to make no noise, and both see and -hear through that register. Which we done it. - - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -I could hear well enough, but at first I couldn't see any of them. But -I gathered that Miss Lucy was standing up whilst she was talking, and -moving around a bit now and then. I seen one of her sleeves, and then a -wisp of her hair. Which was aggervating, fur I wanted to know what she -was like. But her voice was so soft and quiet that you kind of knowed -before you seen her how she orter look. - -"Prentiss McMakin came to me that day," she was saying, "with an -appeal--I hardly know how to tell you." She broke off. - -"Go ahead, Lucy," says Colonel Tom's voice. - -"He was insulting," she said. "He had been drinking. He wanted me -to--to--he appealed to me to run off with him. - -"I was furious--_naturally_." Her voice changed as she said it enough so -you could feel how furious Miss Lucy could get. She was like her brother -Tom in some ways. - -"I ordered him out of the house. His answer to that was an offer to -marry me. You can imagine that I was surprised as well as angry--I was -perplexed. - -"'But I _am_ married!' I cried. The idea that any of my own people, or any -one whom I had known at home, would think I wasn't married was too much -for me to take in all at once. - -"'You _think_ you are,' said Prentiss McMakin, with a smile. - -"In spite of myself my breath stopped. It was as if a chilly hand had -taken hold of my heart. I mean, physically, I felt like that. - -"'I _am_ married,' I repeated, simply. - -"I suppose that McMakin had got the story of our wedding from _you_." She -stopped a minute. The doctor's voice answered: - -"I suppose so," like he was a very tired man. - -"Anyhow," she went on, "he knew that we went first to Clarksville. He -said: - -"'You think you are married, Lucy, but you are not.' - -"I wish you to understand that Prentiss McMakin did it all very, very -well. That is my excuse. He acted well. There was something about -him--I scarcely know how to put it. It sounds odd, but the truth is that -Prentiss McMakin was always a more convincing sort of a person when he -had been drinking a little than when he was sober. He lacked warmth--he -lacked temperament. I suppose just the right amount put it into him. It -put the devil into him, too, I reckon. - -"He told me that you and he, Tom, had been to Clarksville, and had made -investigations, and that the wedding was a fraud. And he told it with a -wealth of convincing detail. In the midst of it he broke off to ask to -see my wedding certificate. As he talked, he laughed at it, and tore -it up, saying that the thing was not worth the paper it was on, and he -threw the pieces of paper into the grate. I listened, and I let him do -it--not that the paper itself mattered particularly. But the very fact -that I let him tear it showed me, myself, that I was believing him. - -"He ended with an impassioned appeal to me to go with him. - -"I showed him the door. I pretended to the last that I thought he was -lying to me. But I did not think so. I believed him. He had done it -all very cleverly. You can understand how I might--in view of what had -happened?" - -I wanted to see Miss Lucy--how she looked when she said different -things, so I could make up my mind whether she was forgiving the doctor -or not. Not that I had much doubt but what they would get their personal -troubles fixed up in the end. The iron grating in the floor was held -down by four good-sized screws, one at each corner. They wasn't no -filling at all betwixt it and the iron grating that was in the ceiling -of the room below. The space was hollow. I got an idea and took out my -jack-knife. - -"What are you going to do?" whispers Martha. - -"S-sh-sh," I says, "shut up, and you'll see." - -One of the screws was loose, and I picked her out easy enough. The -second one I broke the point off of my knife blade on. Like you nearly -always do on a screw. When it snapped Colonel Tom he says: - -"What's that?" He was powerful quick of hearing, Colonel Tom was. I laid -low till they went on talking agin. Then Martha slides out on tiptoe and -comes back in three seconds with one of these here little screw-drivers -they use around sewing-machines and the little oil can that goes with -it. I oils them screws and has them out in a holy minute, and lifts the -grating from the floor careful and lays it careful on the rug. - -By doing all of which I could get my head and shoulders down into that -there hole. And by twisting my neck a good deal, see a little ways to -each side into the room, instead of jest underneath the grating. The -doctor I couldn't see yet, and only a little of Colonel Tom, but Miss -Lucy quite plain. - -"You mean thing," Martha whispers, "you are blocking it up so I can't -hear." - -"Keep still," I whispers, pulling my head out of the hole so the sound -wouldn't float downward into the room below. "You are jest like all -other women--you got too much curiosity." - -"How about yourself?" says she. - -"Who was it thought of taking the grating off?" I whispers back to her. -Which settles her temporary, but she says if I don't give her a chancet -at it purty soon she will tickle my ribs. - -When I listens agin they are burying that there Prent McMakin. But -without any flowers. - -Miss Lucy, she was half setting on, half leaning against, the arm of a -chair. Which her head was jest a bit bowed down so that I couldn't see -her eyes. But they was the beginnings of a smile onto her face. It was -both soft and sad. - -"Well," says Colonel Tom, "you two have wasted almost twenty years of -life." - -"There is one good thing," says the doctor. "It is a good thing that -there was no child to suffer by our mistakes." - -She raised her face when he said that, Miss Lucy did, and looked in his -direction. - -"You call that a good thing?" she says, in a kind of wonder. And after -a minute she sighs. "Perhaps," she says, "you are right. Heaven only -knows. Perhaps it _was_ better that he died." - -"_Died!_" sings out the doctor. - -And I hearn his chair scrape back, like he had riz to his feet sudden. -I nearly busted my neck trying fur to see him, but I couldn't. I was all -twisted up, head down, and the blood getting into my head from it so I -had to pull it out every little while. - -"Yes," she says, with her eyes wide, "didn't you know he died?" And then -she turns quick toward Colonel Tom. "Didn't you tell him--" she begins. -But the doctor cuts in. - -"Lucy," he says, his voice shaking and croaking in his throat, "I never -knew there was a child!" - -I hears Colonel Tom hawk in _his_ throat like a man who is either going -to spit or else say something. But he don't do either one. No one says -anything fur a minute. And then Miss Lucy says agin: - -"Yes--he died." - -And then she fell into a kind of a muse. I have been myself in the fix -she looked to be in then--so you forget fur a while where you are, or -who is there, whilst you think about something that has been in the back -part of your mind fur a long, long time. - -What she was musing about was that child that hadn't lived. I could tell -that by her face. I could tell how she must have thought of it, often -and often, fur years and years, and longed fur it, so that it seemed to -her at times she could almost touch it. And how good a mother she would -of been to it. Some women has jest natcherally _got_ to mother something -or other. Miss Lucy was one of that kind. I knowed all in a flash, -whilst I looked at her there, why she had adopted Martha fur her child. - -It was a wonderful look that was onto her face. And it was a wonderful -face that look was onto. I felt like I had knowed her forever when I -seen her there. Like the thoughts of her the doctor had been carrying -around with him fur years and years, and that I had caught him thinking -oncet or twicet, had been my thoughts too, all my life. - -Miss Lucy, she was one of the kind there's no use trying to describe. -The feller that could see her that-a-way and not feel made good by it -orter have a whaling. Not the kind of sticky, good feeling that makes -you uncomfortable, like being pestered by your conscience to jine a -church or quit cussing. But the kind of good that makes you forget they -is anything on earth but jest braveness of heart and being willing to -bear things you can't help. You knowed the world had hurt her a lot when -you seen her standing there; but you didn't have the nerve to pity her -none, either. Fur you could see she had got over pitying herself. Even -when she was in that muse, longing with all her soul fur that child she -had never knowed, you didn't have the nerve to pity her none. - -"He died," she says agin, purty soon, with that gentle kind of smile. - -Colonel Tom, he clears his throat agin. Like when you are awful dry. - -"The truth is--" he begins. - -And then he breaks off agin. Miss Lucy turns toward him when he speaks. -By the strange look that come onto her face there must of been something -right curious in _his_ manner too. I was jest simply laying onto my -forehead mashing one of my dern eyeballs through a little hole in the -grating. But I couldn't, even that way, see fur enough to one side to -see how _he_ looked. - -"The truth is," says Colonel Tom, trying it agin, "that I--well, Lucy, -the child may be dead, but he didn't die when you thought he did." - -There was a flash of hope flared into her face that I hated to see come -there. Because when it died out in a minute, as I expected it would have -to, it looked to me like it might take all her life out with it. Her -lips parted like she was going to say something with them. But she -didn't. She jest looked it. - -"Why did you never tell me this--that there was a child?" says the -doctor, very eager. - -"Wait," says Colonel Tom, "let me tell the story in my own way." - -Which he done it. It seems when he had went to Galesburg this here child -had only been born a few days. And Miss Lucy was still sick. And the kid -itself was sick, and liable to die any minute, by the looks of things. - -Which Colonel Tom wishes that it would die, in his heart. He thinks that -it is an illegitimate child, and he hates the idea of it and he hates -the sight of it. The second night he is there he is setting in his -sister's room, and the woman that has been nursing the kid and Miss Lucy -too is in the next room with the kid. - -She comes to the door and beckons to him, the nurse does. He tiptoes -toward her, and she says to him, very low-voiced, that "it is all over." -Meaning the kid has quit struggling fur to live, and jest natcherally -floated away. The nurse had thought Miss Lucy asleep, but as both her -and Colonel Tom turn quick toward her bed they see that she has heard -and seen, and she turns her face toward the wall. Which he tries fur to -comfort her, Colonel Tom does, telling her as how it is an illegitimate -child, and fur its own sake it was better it was dead before it ever -lived any. Which she don't answer of him back, but only stares in -a wild-eyed way at him, and lays there and looks desperate, and says -nothing. - -In his heart Colonel Tom is awful glad that it is dead. He can't help -feeling that way. And he quits trying to talk to his sister, fur he -suspicions that she will ketch onto the fact that he is glad that it is -dead. He goes on into the next room. - -He finds the nurse looking awful funny, and bending over the dead kid. -She is putting a looking-glass to its lips. He asts her why. - -She says she thought she might be mistaken after all. She couldn't -say jest _when_ it died. It was alive and feeble, and then purty soon it -showed no signs of life. It was like it hadn't had enough strength to -stay and had jest went. I didn't show any pulse, and it didn't appear -to be breathing. And she had watched it and done everything before she -beckoned to Colonel Tom and told him that it was dead. But as she come -back into the room where it was she thought she noticed something that -was too light to be called a real flutter move its eyelids, which she -had closed down over its eyes. It was the ghost of a move, like it had -tried to raise the lids, or they had tried to raise theirselves, and had -been too weak. So she has got busy and wrapped a hot cloth around it, -and got a drop of brandy or two between its lips, and was fighting to -bring it back to life. And thought she was doing it. Thought she had -felt a little flutter in its chest, and was trying if it had breath at -all. - -Colonel Tom thinks of what big folks the Buckner fambly has always been -at home. And how high they had always held their heads. And how none of -the women has ever been like this before. Nor no disgrace of any kind. -And that there kid, if it is alive, is a sign of disgrace. And he hoped -to God, he said, it wasn't alive. - -But he don't say so. He stands there and watches that nurse fight fur to -hold onto the little mist of life she thinks now is still into it. She -unbuttons her dress and lays the kid against the heat of her own breast. -And wills fur it to live, and fights fur it to, and determines that it -must, and jest natcherally tries fur to bullyrag death into going away. -And Colonel Tom watching, and wishing that it wouldn't. But he gets -interested in that there fight, and so purty soon he is hoping both ways -by spells. And the fight all going on without a word spoken. - -But finally the nurse begins fur to cry. Not because she is sure it is -dead. But because she is sure it is coming back. Which it does, slow. - -"'But I have told _her_ that it is dead,'" says Colonel Tom, jerking his -head toward the other room where Miss Lucy is lying. He speaks in a low -voice and closes the door when he speaks. Fur it looks now like it was -getting strong enough so it might even squall a little. - -"I don't know what kind of a look there was on my face," says Colonel -Tom, telling of the story to his sister and the doctor, "but she must -have seen that I was--and heaven help me, but I _was_!--sorry that the -baby was alive. It would have been such an easy way out of it had it -been really dead! - -"'She mustn't know that it is living,' I said to the nurse, finally," -says Colonel Tom, going on with his story. I had been watching Miss -Lucy's face as Colonel Tom talked and she was so worked up by that fight -fur the kid's life she was breathless. But her eyes was cast down, I -guess so her brother couldn't see them. Colonel Tom goes on with his -story: - -"'You don't mean--' said the nurse, startled. - -"'No! No!' I said, 'of course--not that! But--why should she ever know -that it didn't die?'" - -"'It is illegitimate?' asked the nurse. - -"'Yes,' I said." The long and short of it was, Colonel Tom went on to -tell, that the nurse went out and got her mother. Which the two of them -lived alone, only around the corner. And give the child into the keeping -of her mother, who took it away then and there. - -Colonel Tom had made up his mind there wasn't going to be no bastards in -the Buckner fambly. And now that Miss Lucy thought it was dead he would -let her keep on thinking so. And that would be settled for good and all. -He figgered that it wouldn't ever hurt her none if she never knowed it. - -The nurse's mother kept it all that week, and it throve. Colonel Tom was -coaxing of his sister to go back to Tennessee. But she wouldn't go. So -he had made up his mind to go back and get his Aunt Lucy Davis to come -and help him coax. He was only waiting fur his sister to get well enough -so he could leave her. She got better, and she never ast fur the kid, -nor said nothing about it. Which was probable because she seen he hated -it so. He had made up his mind, before he went back after their Aunt -Lucy Davis, to take the baby himself and put it into some kind of an -institution. - -"I thought," he says to Miss Lucy, telling of the story, "that you -yourself were almost reconciled to the thought that it hadn't lived." - -Miss Lucy interrupted him with a little sound. She was breathing hard, -and shaking from head to foot. No one would have thought to look at her -then she was reconciled to the idea that it hadn't lived. It was cruel -hard on her to tear her to pieces with the news that it really had -lived, but had lived away from her all these years she had been longing -fur it. And no chancet fur her ever to mother it. And no way to tell -what had ever become of it. I felt awful sorry fur Miss Lucy then. - -"But when I got ready to leave Galesburg," Colonel Tom goes on, "it -suddenly occurred to me that there would be difficulties in the way of -putting it in a home of any sort. I didn't know what to do with it--" - -"What _did_ you? What _did_ you? _What did you_?" cries out Miss Lucy, -pressing her hand to her chest, like she was smothering. - -"The first thing I did," says Colonel Tom, "was to get you to another -house--you remember, Lucy?" - -"Yes, yes!" she says, excited, "and what then?" - -"Perhaps I did a very foolish thing," says Colonel Tom. - -"After I had seen you installed in the new place and had bidden you -good-bye, I got a carriage and drove by the place where the nurse and -her mother lived. I told the woman that I had changed my mind--that you -were going to raise the baby--that I was going to permit it. I don't -think she quite believed me, but she gave me the baby. What else could -she do? Besides, I had paid her well, when I discharged her, to say -nothing to you, and to keep the baby until I should come for it. They -needed money; they were poor. - -"I was determined that it should never be heard of again. It was about -noon when I left Galesburg. I drove all that afternoon, with the baby -in a basket on the seat of the carriage beside me. Everybody has read -in books, since books were first written--and seen in newspapers, -too--about children being left on door steps. Given an infant to dispose -of, that is perhaps the first thing that occurs to a person. There was -a thick plaid shawl wrapped about the child. In the basket, beside the -baby, was a nursing bottle. About dusk I had it refilled with warm milk -at a farmhouse near--" - -My head was beginning fur to swim. I pulled my head out of that there -hole, and rammed my foot into it. It banged against that grating and -loosened it. It busted loose some plaster, which showered down into the -room underneath. Miss Lucy, she screamed. And the doctor and Colonel Tom -both yelled out to oncet: - -"Who's that?" - -"It's me," I yells, banging that grating agin. "Watch out below there!" -And the third lick I give her she broke loose and clattered down right -onto a centre table and spilled over some photographs and a vase full of -flowers, and bounced off onto the floor. - -"Look out below," I yells, "I'm coming down!" - -I let my legs through first, and swung them so I would land to one side -of the table, and held by my hands, and dropped. But struck the table a -sideways swipe and turned it over, and fell onto the floor. The doctor, -he grabbed me by the collar and straightened me up, and give me a shake -and stood me onto my feet. - -"What do you mean--" he begins. But I breaks in. - -"Now then," I says to Colonel Tom, "did you leave that there child -sucking that there bottle on the doorstep of a blacksmith's house next -to his shop at the edge of a little country town about twenty miles -northeast of Galesburg wrapped up in that there plaid shawl?" - -"I did," says Colonel Tom. - -"Then," says I, turning to Miss Lucy, "I can understand why I have been -feeling drawed to _you_ fur quite a spell. I'm him." - - - - Transcribers Note: The following changes made: - ORIGINAL - PAGE LINE ORIGINAL CHANGED TO - 17 28 Primose, Primrose, - 41 12 jests looks jest looks - 83 14 to, too, - 84 4 jests sets jest sets - 89 28 it it. - 99 13 our fur out fur - 121 4 Chieftan. Chieftain. - 121 16 i it if it - 160 8 them. then. - 183 18 sir fo' sir, fo' - 189 16 shedon' she don' - 207 22 purty seen purty soon - 210 5 They way The way - 212 6 pintetdly pintedly - 251 2 Witherses.' Witherses'. - 251 22 toe hurt to hurt - 269 3 "Gentleman, "Gentlemen, - 276 19 'Will," "Will," - 282 9 won't!" won't - 288 16 real y really - 292 10 t ouble. trouble. - 308 1 al right all right - 316 4 I says," they I says, "they - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Danny's Own Story, by Don Marquis - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANNY'S OWN STORY *** - -***** This file should be named 51925.txt or 51925.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/2/51925/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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