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diff --git a/old/14150.txt b/old/14150.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aac167d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14150.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10992 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Light in the Clearing, by Irving +Bacheller, Illustrated by Arthur I. Keller + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Light in the Clearing + +Author: Irving Bacheller + +Release Date: November 25, 2004 [eBook #14150] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIGHT IN THE CLEARING*** + + +E-text prepared by Rick Niles, Charlie Kirschner, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 14150-h.htm or 14150-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/1/5/14150/14150-h/14150-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/1/5/14150/14150-h.zip) + + + + + +THE LIGHT IN THE CLEARING + +A Tale of the North Country in the Time of Silas Wright + +by + +IRVING BACHELLER + +Author of _Eben Holden_, _Keeping Up with Lizzie_, etc. + +Illustrated by Arthur I. Keller. + +1917 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: The Silent Woman stood, pointing at him with her finger] + + + +_The Spirit of Man is the Candle of the Lord_ + --PROVERBS XX, 27 + + +TO MY FRIEND + +THOMAS R. PROCTOR, OF UTICA + +LOVER OF THE TRUE IDEALS OF DEMOCRACY + +WHOSE LIFE HAS BEEN A SHINING EXAMPLE TO ALL MEN OF WEALTH + +HONORED GENTLEMAN AND PHILANTHROPIST + +AT THE GATE OF THE LAND OF + +WHICH I HAVE WRITTEN + +DEDICATE THESE CHRONICLES OF THAT LAND + +AND OF ITS GREAT HERO + + + + +FOREWORD + + +From the memoirs of one who knew Governor Wright and lived through many +of the adventures herein described and whose life ended full of honors +early in the present century. It is understood that he chose the name +Barton to signalize his affection for a friend well known in the land of +which he was writing. + +THE AUTHOR. + + + + +PREFACE + + +The Light in the Clearing shone upon many things and mostly upon those +which, above all others, have impassioned and perpetuated the Spirit of +America and which, just now, seem to me to be worthy of attention. I +believe that spirit to be the very candle of the Lord which, in this +dark and windy night of time, has flickered so that the souls of the +faithful have been afraid. But let us be of good cheer. It is shining +brighter as I write and, under God, I believe it shall, by and by, be +seen and loved of all men. + +One self-contained, Homeric figure, of the remote countryside in which I +was born, had the true Spirit of Democracy and shed its light abroad in +the Senate of the United States and the Capitol at Albany. He carried +the candle of the Lord. It led him to a height of self-forgetfulness +achieved by only two others--Washington and Lincoln. Yet I have been +surprised by the profound and general ignorance of this generation +regarding the career of Silas Wright, of whom Whittier wrote these +lines: + + "Man of the millions thou art lost too soon! + Portents at which the bravest stand aghast + The birth throes of a future strange and vast + Alarm the land. Yet thou so wise and strong + Suddenly summoned to the burial bed, + Lapped in its slumbers deep and ever long, + Hear'st not the tumult surging over head. + Who now shall rally Freedom's scattering host? + Who wear the mantle of the leader lost?" + +The distinguished Senator who served at his side for many years, Thomas +H. Benton of Missouri, has this to say of Silas Wright in his _Thirty +Years' View_: + +"He refused cabinet appointments under his fast friend Van Buren and +under Polk, whom he may be said to have elected. He refused a seat on +the bench of the Supreme Court of the United States; he rejected +instantly the nomination of 1844 for Vice-President; he refused to be +put in nomination for the Presidency. He spent that time in declining +office which others did in winning it. The offices he did accept, it +might well be said, were thrust upon him. He was born great and above +office and unwillingly descended to it." + +So much by way of preparing the reader to meet the great commoner in +these pages. One thing more is necessary to a proper understanding of +the final scenes in the book--a part of his letter written to Judge Fine +just before the Baltimore convention of 1844, to wit: + +"I do not feel at liberty to omit any act which may protect me from +being made the instrument, however honestly and innocently, of further +distractions. + +"Within a few days several too partial friends have suggested to me the +idea that by possibility, in case the opposition to the nomination of +Mr. Van Buren should be found irreconcilable, a compromise might be made +by dropping him and using my name. I need not say to you that a consent +on my part to any such proceeding would justly forfeit my standing with +the democracy of our state and cause my faith and fidelity to my party +to be suspected everywhere.... To consent to the use of my name as a +candidate under any circumstances, would be in my view to invite you to +compromise the expressed wishes and instructions of your constituents +for my personal advancement. I can never consent to place myself in a +position where the suspicion of acting from such a motive can justly +attach to me.... + +"If it were proper I could tell you with the most perfect truth that I +have never been vain enough to dream of the office of President in +connection with my own name, and were not Mr. Van Buren the candidate of +our State, I should find just as little difficulty as I now do, in +telling you that I am not and can not under any circumstances be a +candidate before your convention for that office." + +According to his best biographer, Jabez Hammond, Mr. Wright still +adhered to this high ground in spite of the fact that Mr. Van Buren +withdrew and requested his faithful hand to vote for the Senator. + +There were those who accused Mr. Wright of being a spoilsman, the only +warrant for which claim would seem to be his remark in a letter: "When +our enemies accuse us of feeding our friends instead of them never let +them lie in telling the story." + +He was, in fact, a human being, through and through, but so upright that +they used to say of him that he was "as honest as any man under heaven +or in it" + +For my knowledge of the color and spirit of the time I am indebted to a +long course of reading in its books, newspapers and periodicals, notably +_The North American Review, The United States Magazine and Democratic +Review, The New York Mirror, The Knickerbocker, The St. Lawrence +Republican_, Benton's _Thirty Years' View_, Bancroft's _Life of Martin +Van Buren_, histories of Wright and his time by Hammond and Jenkins, and +to many manuscript letters of the distinguished commoner in the New York +Public Library and in the possession of Mr. Samuel Wright of Weybridge, +Vermont. + +To any who may think that they discover portraits in these pages I +desire to say that all the characters--save only Silas Wright and +President Van Buren and Barton Baynes--are purely imaginary. However, +there were Grimshaws and Purvises and Binkses and Aunt Deels and Uncle +Peabodys in almost every rustic neighborhood those days, and I regret to +add that Roving Kate was on many roads. The case of Amos Grimshaw bears +a striking resemblance to that of young Bickford, executed long ago in +Malone, for the particulars of which case I am indebted to my friend, +Mr. H.L. Ives of Potsdam. + +THE AUTHOR. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK ONE + +WHICH IS THE STORY OF THE CANDLE AND COMPASS + +CHAPTER + I The Melon Harvest + II I Meet the Silent Woman and Silas Wright, Jr. + III We Go to Meeting and See Mr. Wright Again + IV Our Little Strange Companion + V In the Light of the Candles + VI The Great Stranger + VII My Second Peril + VIII My Third Peril + + +BOOK TWO + +WHICH IS THE STORY OF THE PRINCIPAL WITNESS + + IX In Which I Meet Other Great Men + X I Meet President Van Buren and Am Cross-Examined by Mr. Grimshaw + XI A Party and--My Fourth Peril? + XII The Spirit of Michael Henry and Others + XIII The Thing and Other Things + XIV The Bolt Falls + + +BOOK THREE + +WHICH IS THE STORY OF THE CHOSEN WAYS + + XV Uncle Peabody's Way and Mine + XVI I Use My Own Compass at a Fork in the Road + XVII The Man with the Scythe +XVIII I Start in a Long Way + XIX On the Summit + Epilogue + + + + +BOOK ONE + +Which is the Story of the Candle and the Compass + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MELON HARVEST + + +Once upon a time I owned a watermelon. I say once because I never did it +again. When I got through owning that melon I never wanted another. The +time was 1831; I was a boy of seven and the melon was the first of all +my harvests. Every night and morning I watered and felt and surveyed my +watermelon. My pride grew with the melon and, by and by, my uncle tried +to express the extent and nature of my riches by calling me a +mellionaire. + +I didn't know much about myself those days except the fact that my name +was Bart Baynes and, further, that I was an orphan who owned a +watermelon and a little spotted hen and lived on Rattle road in a +neighborhood called Lickitysplit. I lived with my Aunt Deel and my +Uncle Peabody Baynes on a farm. They were brother and sister--he about +thirty-eight and she a little beyond the far-distant goal of forty. + +My father and mother died in a scourge of diphtheria that swept the +neighborhood when I was a boy of five. For a time my Aunt Deel seemed to +blame me for my loss. + +"No wonder they're dead," she used to say, when out of patience with me +and--well I suppose that I must have had an unusual talent for all the +noisy arts of childhood when I broke the silence of that little home. + +The word "dead" set the first mile-stone in the long stretch of my +memory. That was because I tried so hard to comprehend it and further +because it kept repeating its challenge to my imagination. I often +wondered just what had become of my father and mother and I remember +that the day after I went to my aunt's home a great idea came to me. It +came out of the old dinner-horn hanging in the shed. I knew the power of +its summons and I slyly captured the horn and marched around the house +blowing it and hoping that it would bring my father up from the fields. +I blew and blew and listened for that familiar halloo of his. When I +paused for a drink of water at the well my aunt came and seized the horn +and said it was no wonder they were dead. She knew nothing of the +sublime bit of necromancy she had interrupted--poor soul! + +I knew that she had spoken of my parents for I supposed that they were +the only people in the world who were dead, but I did not know what it +meant to be dead. I often called to them, as I had been wont to do, +especially in the night, and shed many tears because they came no more +to answer me. Aunt Deel did not often refer directly to my talents, but +I saw, many times, that no-wonder-they-died look in her face. + +Children are great rememberers. They are the recording angels--the +keepers of the book of life. Man forgets--how easily!--and easiest of +all, the solemn truth that children do _not_ forget. + +A few days after I arrived in the home of my aunt and uncle I slyly +entered the parlor and climbed the what-not to examine some white +flowers on its top shelf and tipped the whole thing over, scattering its +burden of albums, wax flowers and sea shells on the floor. My aunt came +running on her tiptoes and exclaimed: "Mercy! Come right out o' here +this minute--you pest!" + +I took some rather long steps going out which were due to the fact that +Aunt Deel had hold of my hand. While I sat weeping she went back into +the parlor and began to pick up things. + +"My wreath! my wreath!" I heard her moaning. + +How well I remember that little assemblage of flower ghosts in wax! They +had no more right to associate with human beings than the ghosts of +fable. Uncle Peabody used to call them the "Minervy flowers" because +they were a present from his Aunt Minerva. When Aunt Deel returned to +the kitchen where I sat--a sorrowing little refugee hunched up in a +corner--she said: "I'll have to tell your Uncle Peabody--ayes!" + +"Oh please don't tell my Uncle Peabody," I wailed. + +"Ayes! I'll have to tell him," she answered firmly. + +For the first time I looked for him with dread at the window and when he +came I hid in a closet and heard that solemn and penetrating note in her +voice as she said: + +"I guess you'll have to take that boy away--ayes!" + +"What now?" he asked. + +"My stars! he sneaked into the parlor and tipped over the what-not and +smashed that beautiful wax wreath!" + +Her voice trembled. + +"Not them Minervy flowers?" he asked in a tone of doleful incredulity. + +"Ayes he did!" + +"And tipped over the hull what-not?" + +"Ayes!" + +"Jerusalem four-corners!" he exclaimed. "I'll have to--" + +He stopped as he was wont to do on the threshold of strong opinions and +momentous resolutions. + +The rest of the conversation was drowned in my own cries and Uncle +Peabody came and lifted me tenderly and carried me up-stairs. + +He sat down with me on his lap and hushed my cries. Then he said very +gently: + +"Now, Bub, you and me have got to be careful. What-nots and albums and +wax flowers and hair-cloth sofys are the most dang'rous critters in St. +Lawrence County. They're purty savage. Keep your eye peeled. You can't +tell what minute they'll jump on ye. More boys have been dragged away +and tore to pieces by `em than by all the bears and panthers in the +woods. When I was a boy I got a cut acrost my legs that made a scar ye +can see now, and it was a hair-cloth sofy that done it. Keep out o' that +old parlor. Ye might as well go into a cage o' wolves. How be I goin' to +make ye remember it?" + +"I don't know," I whimpered and began to cry out in fearful +anticipation. + +He set me in a chair, picked up one of his old carpet-slippers and began +to thump the bed with it. He belabored the bed with tremendous vigor. +Meanwhile he looked at me and exclaimed: "You dreadful child!" + +I knew that my sins were responsible for this violence. It frightened me +and my cries increased. + +The door at the bottom of the stairs opened suddenly. + +Aunt Deel called: + +"Don't lose your temper, Peabody. I think you've gone fur 'nough--ayes!" + +Uncle Peabody stopped and blew as if he were very tired and then I +caught a look in his face that reassured me. + +He called back to her: "I wouldn't 'a' cared so much if it hadn't 'a' +been the what-not and them Minervy flowers. When a boy tips over a +what-not he's goin' it purty strong." + +"Well don't be too severe. You'd better come now and git me a pail o' +water--ayes, I think ye had." + +Uncle Peabody did a lot of sneezing and coughing with his big, red +handkerchief over his face and I was not old enough then to understand +it. He kissed me and took my little hand in his big hard one and led me +down the stairs. + +After that in private talks uncle and I always referred to our parlor as +the wolf den and that night, after I had gone to bed, he lay down beside +me and told the story of a boy who, having been left alone in his +father's house one day, was suddenly set upon and roughly handled by a +what-not, a shaggy old hair-cloth sofy and an album. The sofy had begun +it by scratchin' his face and he had scratched back with a shingle nail. +The album had watched its chance and, when he stood beneath it, had +jumped off a shelf on to his head. Suddenly he heard a voice calling +him: + +"Little boy, come here," it said, and it was the voice of the what-not. + +"Just step up on this lower shelf," says the old what-not. "I want to +show ye somethin'." + +The what-not was all covered with shiny things and looked as innocent as +a lamb. + +He went over and stepped on the lower shelf and then the savage thing +jumped right on top of him, very supple, and threw him on to the floor +and held him there until his mother came. + +I dreamed that night that a long-legged what-not, with a wax wreath in +its hands, chased me around the house and caught and bit me on the neck. +I called for help and uncle came and found me on the floor and put me +back in bed again. + +For a long time I thought that the way a man punished a boy was by +thumping his bed. I knew that women had a different and less +satisfactory method, for I remembered that my mother had spanked me and +Aunt Deel had a way of giving my hands and head a kind of watermelon +thump with the middle finger of her right hand and with a curious look +in her eyes. Uncle Peabody used to call it a "snaptious look." Almost +always he whacked the bed with his slipper. There were exceptions, +however, and, by and by, I came to know in each case the destination of +the slipper for if I had done anything which really afflicted my +conscience that strip of leather seemed to know the truth, and found its +way to my person. + +My Uncle Peabody was a man of a thousand. I often saw him laughing and +talking to himself and strange fancies came into my head about it. + +"Who be you talkin' to?" I asked. + +"Who be I talkin' to, Bub? Why I'm talkin' to my friends." + +"Friends?" I said. + +"The friends I orto have had but ain't got. When I git lonesome I just +make up a lot o' folks and some of 'em is good comp'ny." + +He loved to have me with him, as he worked, and told me odd tales and +seemed to enjoy my prattle. I often saw him stand with rough fingers +stirring his beard, just beginning to show a sprinkle of white, while he +looked down at me as if struck with wonder at something I had said. + +"Come and give me a kiss, Bub," he would say. As he knelt down, I would +run to his arms and I wondered why he always blinked his gray eyes after +he had kissed me. + +He was a bachelor and for a singular reason. I have always laid it to +the butternut trousers--the most sacred bit of apparel of which I have +any knowledge. + +"What have you got on them butternut trousers for?" I used to hear Aunt +Deel say when he came down-stairs in his first best clothes to go to +meeting or "attend" a sociable--those days people just went to meeting +but they always "attended" sociables--"You're a wearin' `em threadbare, +ayes! I suppose you've sot yer eyes on some one o' the girls. I can +always tell--ayes I can! When you git your long legs in them butternut +trousers I know you're warmin' up--ayes!" + +I had begun to regard those light brown trousers with a feeling of awe, +and used to put my hand upon them very softly when uncle had them on. +They seemed to rank with "sofys," albums and what-nots in their capacity +for making trouble. + +Uncle Peabody rarely made any answer, and for a time thereafter Aunt +Deel acted as if she were about done with him. She would go around with +a stern face as if unaware of his presence, and I had to keep out of her +way. In fact I dreaded the butternut trousers almost as much as she +did. + +Once Uncle Peabody had put on the butternut trousers, against the usual +protest, to go to meeting. + +"Ayes! you've got 'em on ag'in," said Aunt Deel. "I suppose your black +trousers ain't good 'nough. That's 'cause you know Edna Perry is goin' +to be there--ayes!" + +Edna Perry was a widow of about his age who was visiting her sister in +the neighborhood. + +Aunt Deel wouldn't go to church with us, so we went off together and +walked home with Mrs. Perry. As we passed our house I saw Aunt Deel +looking out of the window and waved my hand to her. + +When we got home at last we found my aunt sitting in her armchair by the +stove. + +"You did it--didn't ye?--ayes," she demanded rather angrily as we came +in. + +"Done what?" asked Uncle Peabody. + +"Shinin' up to that Perry woman--ain't ye?--ayes! I see you're bound to +git married--ayes!" + +I had no idea what it meant to get married but I made up my mind that it +was something pretty low and bad. For the moment I blamed Uncle Peabody. + +Aunt Deel's voice and manner seemed to indicate that she had borne with +him to the limit of her patience. + +"Delia," said my uncle, "I wouldn't be so--" + +Again he checked himself for fear of going too far, I suppose. + +"My heart! my heart!" Aunt Deel exclaimed and struggled to her feet +sobbing, and Uncle Peabody helped her to the lounge. She was so ill the +rest of the day that my uncle had to go for the doctor while I bathed +her forehead with cold water. + +Poor Uncle Peabody! Every step toward matrimony required such an outlay +of emotion and such a sacrifice of comfort that I presume it seemed to +be hardly worth while. + +Yet I must be careful not to give the reader a false impression of my +Aunt Deel. She was a thin, pale woman, rather tall, with brown hair and +blue eyes and a tongue--well, her tongue has spoken for itself. I +suppose that she will seem inhumanly selfish with this jealousy of her +brother. + +"I promised ma that I would look after you and I'm a-goin' to do +it--ayes!" I used to hear her say to my uncle. + +There were not many married men who were so thoroughly looked after. +This was due in part to her high opinion of the Baynes family, and to a +general distrust of women. In her view they were a designing lot. It was +probably true that Mrs. Perry was fond of show and would have been glad +to join the Baynes family, but those items should not have been set down +against her. There was Aunt Deel's mistake. She couldn't allow any +humanity in other women. + +She toiled incessantly. She washed and scrubbed and polished and dusted +and sewed and knit from morning until night. She lived in mortal fear +that company would come and find her unprepared--Alma Jones or Jabez +Lincoln and his wife, or Ben and Mary Humphries, or "Mr. and Mrs. Horace +Dunkelberg." These were the people of whom she talked when the neighbors +came in and when she was not talking of the Bayneses. I observed that +she always said "Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg." They were the +conversational ornaments of our home. "As Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg says," +or, "as I said to Mr. Horace Dunkelberg," were phrases calculated to +establish our social standing. I supposed that the world was peopled by +Joneses, Lincolns, Humphries and Dunkelbergs, but mostly by Dunkelbergs. +These latter were very rich people who lived in Canton village. + +I know, now, how dearly Aunt Deel loved her brother and me. I must have +been a great trial to that woman of forty unused to the pranks of +children and the tender offices of a mother. Naturally I turned from her +to my Uncle Peabody as a refuge and a help in time of trouble with +increasing fondness. He had no knitting or sewing to do and when Uncle +Peabody sat in the house he gave all his time to me and we weathered +many a storm together as we sat silently in his favorite corner, of an +evening, where I always went to sleep in his arms. + +He and I slept in the little room up-stairs, "under the shingles"--as +uncle used to say. I in a small bed, and he in the big one which had +been the receiver of so much violence. So I gave her only a qualified +affection until I could see beneath the words and the face and the +correcting hand of my Aunt Deel. + +Uncle made up the beds in our room. Often his own bed would go unmade. +My aunt would upbraid him for laziness, whereupon he would say that when +he got up he liked the feel of that bed so much that he wanted to begin +next night right where he had left off. + +I was seven years old when Uncle Peabody gave me the watermelon seeds. I +put one of them in my mouth and bit it. + +"It appears to me there's an awful draft blowin' down your throat," said +Uncle Peabody. "You ain't no business eatin' a melon seed." + +"Why?" was my query. + +"'Cause it was made to put in the ground. Didn't you know it was alive?" + +"Alive!" I exclaimed. + +"Alive," said he, "I'll show ye." + +He put a number of the seeds in the ground and covered them, and said +that that part of the garden should be mine. I watched it every day and +by and by two vines came up. One sickened and died in dry weather. Uncle +Peabody said that I must water the other every day. I did it faithfully +and the vine throve. + +"What makes it grow?" I asked. + +"The same thing that makes you grow," said Uncle Peabody. "You can do +lots of things but there's only one thing that a watermelon can do. It +can just grow. See how it reaches out toward the sunlight! If we was to +pull them vines around and try to make 'em grow toward the north they +wouldn't mind us. They'd creep back and go reachin' toward the sunlight +ag'in just as if they had a compass to show 'em the way." + +It was hard work, I thought, to go down into the garden, night and +morning, with my little pail full of water, but uncle said that I should +get my pay when the melon was ripe. I had also to keep the wood-box full +and feed the chickens. They were odious tasks. When I asked Aunt Deel +what I should get for doing them she answered quickly: + +"Nospanks and bread and butter--ayes!" + +When I asked what were "nospanks" she told me that they were part of the +wages of a good child. I was better paid for my care of the watermelon +vine, for its growth was measured with a string every day and kept me +interested. One morning I found five blossoms on it. I picked one and +carried it to Aunt Deel. Another I destroyed in the tragedy of catching +a bumblebee which had crawled into its cup. In due time three small +melons appeared. When they were as big as a baseball I picked two of +them. One I tasted and threw away as I ran to the pump for relief. The +other I hurled at a dog on my way to school. + +So that last melon on the vine had my undivided affection. It grew in +size and reputation, and soon I learned that a reputation is about the +worst thing that a watermelon can acquire while it is on the vine. I +invited everybody that came to the house to go and see my watermelon. +They looked it over and said pleasant things about it. When I was a boy +people used to treat children and watermelons with a like solicitude. +Both were a subject for jests and both produced similar reactions in the +human countenance. + +Aunt Deel often applied the watermelon test to my forehead and +discovered in me a capacity for noise which no melon could rival. That +act became very familiar to me, for when my melon was nearing the summit +of its fame and influence, all beholders thumped its rounded side with +the middle finger of the right hand, and said that they guessed they'd +steal it. I knew that this was some kind of a joke and a very idle one +for they had also threatened to steal me and nothing had come of it. + +At last Uncle Peabody agreed with me that it was about time to pick the +melon. I decided to pick it immediately after meeting on Sunday, so that +I could give it to my aunt and uncle at dinner-time. When we got home I +ran for the garden. My feet and those of our friends and neighbors had +literally worn a path to the melon. In eager haste I got my little +wheelbarrow and ran with it to the end of that path. There I found +nothing but broken vines! The melon had vanished. I ran back to the +house almost overcome by a feeling of alarm, for I had thought long of +that hour of pride when I should bring the melon and present it to my +aunt and uncle. + +"Uncle Peabody," I shouted, "my melon is gone." + +"Well I van!" said he, "somebody must 'a' stole it." + +"Stole it?" I repeated the words without fully comprehending what they +meant. + +"But it was my melon," I said with a trembling voice. + +"Yes and I vum it's too bad! But, Bart, you ain't learned yit that there +are wicked people in the world who come and take what don't belong to +'em." + +There were tears in my eyes when I asked: + +"They'll bring it back, won't they?" + +"Never!" said Uncle Peabody, "I'm afraid they've et it up." + +He had no sooner said it than a cry broke from my lips, and I sank down +upon the grass moaning and sobbing. I lay amidst the ruins of the simple +faith of childhood. It was as if the world and all its joys had come to +an end. + +"You can't blame the boy," I heard Uncle Peabody saying. "He's fussed +with that melon all summer. He wanted to give it to you for a present." + +"Ayes so he did! Well I declare! I never thought o' that--ayes!" + +Aunt Deel spoke in a low, kindly tone and came and lifted me to my feet +very tenderly. + +"Come, Bart, don't feel so about that old melon," said she, "it ain't +worth it. Come with me. I'm goin' to give you a present--ayes I be!" + +I was still crying when she took me to her trunk, and offered the +grateful assuagement of candy and a belt, all embroidered with blue and +white beads. + +"Now you see, Bart, how low and mean anybody is that takes what don't +belong to 'em--ayes! They're snakes! Everybody hates 'em an' stamps on +'em when they come in sight--ayes!" + +The abomination of the Lord was in her look and manner. How it shook my +soul! He who had taken the watermelon had also taken from me something I +was never to have again, and a very wonderful thing it was--faith in +the goodness of men. My eyes had seen evil. The world had committed its +first offense against me and my spirit was no longer the white and +beautiful thing it had been. Still, therein is the beginning of wisdom +and, looking down the long vista of the years, I thank God for the great +harvest of the lost watermelon. Better things had come in its +place--understanding and what more, often I have vainly tried to +estimate. For one thing that sudden revelation of the heart of childhood +had lifted my aunt's out of the cold storage of a puritanic spirit, and +warmed it into new life and opened its door for me. + +In the afternoon she sent me over to Wills' to borrow a little tea. I +stopped for a few minutes to play with Henry Wills--a boy not quite a +year older than I. While playing there I discovered a piece of the rind +of my melon in the dooryard. On that piece of rind I saw the cross which +I had made one day with my thumb-nail. It was intended to indicate that +the melon was solely and wholly mine. I felt a flush of anger. + +"I hate you," I said as I approached him. + +"I hate you," he answered. + +"You're a snake!" I said. + +We now stood, face to face and breast to breast, like a pair of young +roosters. He gave me a shove and told me to go home. I gave him a shove +and told him I wouldn't. I pushed up close to him again and we glared +into each other's eyes. + +Suddenly he spat in my face. I gave him a scratch on the forehead with +my finger-nails. Then we fell upon each other and rolled on the ground +and hit and scratched with feline ferocity. + +Mrs. Wills ran out of the house and parted us. Our blood was hot, and +leaking through the skin of our faces a little. + +"He pitched on me," Henry explained. + +I couldn't speak. + +"Go right home--this minute--you brat!" said Mrs. Wills in anger. +"Here's your tea. Don't you ever come here again." + +I took the tea and started down the road weeping. What a bitter day that +was for me! I dreaded to face my aunt and uncle. Coming through the +grove down by our gate I met Uncle Peabody. With the keen eyesight of +the father of the prodigal son he had seen me coming "a long way off" +and shouted: + +"Well here ye be--I was kind o' worried, Bub." + +Then his eye caught the look of dejection in my gait and figure. He +hurried toward me. He stopped as I came sobbing to his feet. + +"Why, what's the matter?" he asked gently, as he took the tea cup from +my hand, and sat down upon his heels. + +I could only fall into his arms and express myself in the grief of +childhood. He hugged me close and begged me to tell him what was the +matter. + +"That Wills boy stole my melon," I said, and the words came slow with +sobs. + +"Oh, no he didn't," said Uncle Peabody. + +"Yes he did. I saw a piece o' the rin'." + +"Well by--" said Uncle Peabody, stopping, as usual, at the edge of the +precipice. + +"He's a snake," I added. + +"And you fit and he scratched you up that way?" + +"I scratched him, too." + +"Don't you say a word about it to Aunt Deel. Don't ever speak o' that +miserable melon ag'in to anybody. You scoot around to the barn, an' I'll +be there in a minute and fix ye up." + +He went by the road with the tea and I ran around to the lane and up to +the stable. Uncle Peabody met me there in a moment and brought a pail of +water and washed my face so that I felt and looked more respectable. + +"If Aunt Deel asks ye about them scratches you just tell her that you +and Hen had a little disagreement," said my uncle. + +She didn't ask me, probably because Uncle Peabody had explained in his +own way, and requested her to say nothing. + +The worst was over for that day but the Baynes-Wills feud had begun. It +led to many a fight in the school yard and on the way home. We were so +evenly matched that our quarrel went on for a long time and gathered +intensity as it continued. + +One day Uncle Peabody had given me an egg and, said that there was a +chicken in it. + +"All ye have to do is to keep it warm an' the chicken will come to life, +and when the hen is off the nest some day it will see light through the +shell and peck its way out," he explained. + +He marked my initials on the egg and put it under a hen and by and by a +little chicken came out of the shell. I held it in my palm--a quivering, +warm handful of yellow down. Its helplessness appealed to me and I fed +and watched it every day. Later my uncle told me that it was a hen chick +and would be laying eggs in four months. He added: + +"It's the only thing it can do, an' if it's let alone it'll be sure to +do it. Follows a kind of a compass that leads to the nest every time." + +This chicken grew into a little spotted hen. She became my sole +companion in many a lonely hour when Uncle Peabody had gone to the +village, or was working in wet ground, or on the hay rack, or the mowing +machine where I couldn't be with him. She was an amiable, confiding +little hen who put her trust in me and kept it unto the day of her +death, which came not until she had reached the full dignity of mature +henhood. + +She was like many things on the farm--of great but unconsidered beauty. +No far-fetched pheasant was half so beautiful as she. I had always +treated her with respect, and she would let me come and sit beside her +while she rolled in the dust and permit me to stroke her head and +examine her wonderful dress of glossy mottled satin. She would spread +her glowing sleeves in the sunlight, and let me feel their downy lining +with my fingers and see how their taut snug-fitting plumes were set. + +I remember a day when she was sitting on her nest with that curious +expression in her eyes which seemed to say, "Please don't bother me now +for this is my busy time," I brought three little kittens from their +basket in the wood-shed and put them under her. The kittens felt the +warmth of her body and began to mew and stir about. I shall never forget +the look of astonishment in the little hen as she slowly rose in her +nest and peered beneath her body at the kittens. She looked at me as if +to say that she really couldn't be bothered with those furry things any +longer--they made her so nervous. She calmly took hold of one of them +with her bill and lifted it out of the nest. She continued this process +of eviction until they were all removed, when she quietly sat down +again. + +[Illustration: Slowly her right hand rose above her] + +I mention this only to show that the hen and I had come to terms of +intimacy and mutual understanding. So when I saw Wills' dog catch and +kill her in the field one day, where she was hunting for grasshoppers, I +naturally entertained a feeling of resentment. I heard the cries of the +hen and ran through the orchard and witnessed the end of the tragedy and +more. Away down in the meadow I saw the dog and farther away "the Wills +boy," as we then called him, running toward his home. The dog had run +away as I approached and when I picked up the lifeless body of my little +friend the hills seemed to lift up their heads and fall upon me. Of +course that Wills boy had set the dog on her. I shall write no more of +that hour of trial. Such little things make history, and it is necessary +that the reader should understand me. + +One June day of the next summer Uncle Peabody and I, from down in the +fields, saw a fine carriage drive in at our gate. He stopped and looked +intently. + +"Jerusalem four-corners!" he exclaimed. "It's Mr. and Mrs. Horace +Dunkelberg." + +My heart beat fast at thought of the legendary Dunkelbergs. Uncle looked +me over from top to toe. "Heavens!" he exclaimed. "Go down to the brook +and wash the mud off yer feet an' legs." + +I ran for the brook and before I had returned to my uncle I heard the +horn blow. + +"The Dunkelbergs!--the Dunkelbergs! Come quick!" it seemed to say. + +Uncle had tied a red handkerchief around his neck and was readjusting +his galluses when I returned. In silence we hurried to the house. As we +drew near I heard the voice of Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg and that of +another woman quite as strange to my ear--a high-pitched voice of +melting amiability. It was the company voice of my Aunt Deel. I had +observed just a faint suggestion of it when the neighbors came, or when +meeting was over, but I had never before heard the full-fledged +angelicity of her company voice. It astonished me and I began to regard +her as a very promising old lady. Uncle Peabody, himself, had undergone +a change in the presence of the Dunkelbergs. He held his neck straighter +and smiled more and spoke with greater deliberation. + +Mr. Dunkelberg was a big, broad-shouldered, solemn-looking man. Somehow +his face reminded me of a lion's which I had seen in one of my +picture-books. He had a thick, long, outstanding mustache and side +whiskers, and deep-set eyes and heavy eyebrows. He stood for half a +moment looking down at me from a great height with his right hand in his +pocket. I heard a little jingle of coins down where his hand was. It +excited my curiosity. He took a step toward me and I retreated. I +feared, a little, this big, lion-like man. My fears left me suddenly +when he spoke in a small squeaky voice that reminded me of the chirping +of a bird. + +"Little boy, come here and I will make you a present," said he. + +It reminded me of my disappointment when uncle tried to shoot his gun at +a squirrel and only the cap cracked. + +I went to him and he laid a silver piece in the palm of my hand. Aunt +Deel began to hurry about getting dinner ready while Uncle Peabody and I +sat down on the porch with our guests, among whom was a pretty blue-eyed +girl of about my own age, with long, golden-brown hair that hung in +curls. + +"Sally, this is Barton Baynes--can't you shake hands with him?" said +Mrs. Dunkelberg. + +With a smile the girl came and offered me her hand and made a funny bow +and said that she was glad to see me. I took her hand awkwardly and made +no reply. I had never seen many girls and had no very high opinion of +them. + +My attentive ears and eyes began to gather facts in the history of the +Dunkelbergs. Mr. Dunkelberg had throat trouble, and bought butter and +cheese and sent it to Boston, and had busted his voice singing tenor, +and was very rich. I knew that he was rich because he had a gold watch +and chain, and clothes as soft and clean as the butternut trousers, and +a silver ring on his finger, and such a big round stomach. That stomach +was the most convincing feature of all and, indeed, I have since learned +that the rounded type of human architecture is apt to be more expensive +than the angular. + +As we sat there I heard the men talking about the great Silas Wright, +who had just returned to his home in Canton. He had not entered my +consciousness until then. + +While I sat listening I felt a tweak of my hair, and looking around I +saw the Dunkelberg girl standing behind me with a saucy smile on her +face. + +"Won't you come and play with me?" she asked. + +I took her out in the garden to show her where my watermelon had lain. +At the moment I couldn't think of anything else to show her. As we +walked along I observed that her feet were in dainty shiny button-shoes. +Suddenly I began to be ashamed of my feet that were browned by the +sunlight and scratched by the briers. The absent watermelon didn't seem +to interest her. + +"Let's play house in the grove," said she, and showed me how to build a +house by laying rows of stones with an opening for a door. + +"Now you be my husband," said she. + +Oddly enough I had heard of husbands but had only a shadowy notion of +what they were. I knew that there was none in our house. + +"What's that?" I asked. + +She laughed and answered: "Somebody that a girl is married to." + +"You mean a father?" + +"Yes." + +"Once I had a father," I boasted. + +"Well, we'll play we're married and that you have just got home from a +journey. You go out in the woods and then you come home and I'll meet +you at the door." + +I did as she bade me but I was not glad enough to see her. + +"You must kiss me," she prompted in a whisper. + +I kissed her very swiftly and gingerly--like one picking up a hot +coal--and she caught me in her arms and kissed me three times while her +soft hair threw its golden veil over our faces. + +"Oh I'm so glad to see you," she said as she drew away from me and shook +back her hair. + +"Golly! this is fun!" I said. + +"Ask: 'How are the babies?'" she whispered. + +"How are the babies?" I asked, feeling rather silly. + +"They're fine. I'm just putting them to bed." + +We sat on the grass and she had a stick which she pretended to be +dressing and often, after she had spanked the stick a little, she made a +noise through closed lips like that of a child crying. + +"Now go to sleep and I'll tell you a story," said she. + +Then she told pretty tales of fairies and of grand ladies and noble +gentlemen who wore gold coats and swords and diamonds and silks, and +said wonderful words in such a wonderful way. I dare say it prospered +all the better in my ears because of the mystery by which its meanings +were partly hidden. I had many questions to ask and she told me what +were fairies and silks and diamonds and grand ladies and noble +gentlemen. + +We sat down to one of our familiar dinners of salt pork and milk gravy +and apple pie now enriched by sweet pickles and preserves and frosted +cake. + +A query had entered my mind and soon after we began eating I asked: + +"Aunt Deel, what is the difference between a boy and a girl?" + +There was a little silence in which my aunt drew in her breath and +exclaimed, "W'y!" and turned very red and covered her face with her +napkin. Uncle Peabody laughed so loudly that the chickens began to +cackle. Mr. and Mrs. Dunkelberg also covered their faces. Aunt Deel rose +and went to the stove and shoved the teapot along, exclaiming: + +"Goodness, gracious sakes alive!" + +The tea slopped over on the stove. Uncle Peabody laughed louder and Mr. +Dunkelberg's face was purple. Shep came running into the house just as +I ran out of it. I had made up my mind that I had done something worse +than tipping over a what-not. Thoroughly frightened I fled and took +refuge behind the ash-house, where Sally found me. I knew of one thing I +would never do again. She coaxed me into the grove where we had another +play spell. + +I needed just that kind of thing, and what a time it was for me! A +pleasant sadness comes when I think of that day--it was so long ago. As +the Dunkelbergs left us I stood looking down the road on which they were +disappearing and saw in the sky and the distant, purple hills and +sloping meadows the beauty of the world. The roaring aeroplane of a +humming bird whirled about me and sped through the hollyhock towers. I +followed and watched the tiny air-ship sticking its prow in their tops, +as if it would have me see how wonderful they were, before it sped away. +Breast deep in the flowers I forgot my loneliness for a few minutes. But +that evening my ears caught a note of sadness in the voice of the +katydids, and memory began to play its part with me. Best of all I +remembered the kisses and the bright blue eyes and the soft curly hair +with the smell of roses in it. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +I MEET THE SILENT WOMAN AND SILAS WRIGHT, JR. + + +Amos Grimshaw was there in our dooryard the day that the old ragged +woman came along and told our fortunes--she that was called Rovin' Kate, +and was said to have the gift of "second sight," whatever that may be. +It was a bright autumn day and the leaves lay deep in the edge of the +woodlands. She spoke never a word but stood pointing at her palm and +then at Amos and at me. + +I was afraid of the old woman--she looked so wild and ragged. I have +never seen a human being whose look and manner suggested a greater +capacity for doing harm. Yet there was a kindly smile on her tanned face +when she looked at me. Young as I was, the truth came home to me, +somehow, that she was a dead but undeparted spirit and belonged to +another world. I remember the tufts of gray hair above her blue eyes; +the mole on the side of her aquiline nose; her pointed chin and small +mouth. She carried a cane in her bony right hand and the notion came to +me that she was looking for bad boys who deserved a cudgeling. + +Aunt Deel nodded and said: + +"Ayes, Kate--tell their fortunes if ye've anything to say--ayes!" + +She brought two sheets of paper and the old woman sat down upon the +grass and began to write with a little stub of a pencil. I have now +those fateful sheets of paper covered by the scrawls of old Kate. I +remember how she shook her head and sighed and sat beating her forehead +with the knuckles of her bony hands after she had looked at the palm of +Amos. Swiftly the point of her pencil ran over and up and down the sheet +like the movements of a frightened serpent. In the silence how loudly +the pencil seemed to hiss in its swift lines and loops. + +My aunt exclaimed "Mercy!" as she looked at the sheet; for while I knew +not, then, the strange device upon the paper, I knew, by and by, that it +was a gibbet. Beneath it were the words: "Money thirst shall burn like a +fire in him." + +She rose and smiled as she looked into my face. I saw a kind, gentle +glow in her eyes that reassured me. She clapped her hands with joy. She +examined my palm and grew serious and stood looking thoughtfully at the +setting sun. + +I see, now, her dark figure standing against the sunlight as it stood +that day with Amos in its shadow. What a singular eloquence in her pose +and gestures and in her silence! I remember how it bound our +tongues--that silence of hers! She covered her eyes with her left hand +as she turned away from us. Slowly her right hand rose above her head +with its index finger extended and slowly came down to her side. It rose +again with two fingers showing and descended as before. She repeated +this gesture until her four bony fingers had been spread in the air +above her. How it thrilled me! Something jumped to life in my soul at +the call of her moving hand. I passed a new gate of my imagination, I +fancy, and if I have a way of my own in telling things it began that +moment. + +The woman turned with a kindly smile and sat down in the grass again and +took the sheet of paper and resting it on a yellow-covered book began to +write these words: + + "I see the longing of the helper. One, two, three, four great + perils shall strike at him. He shall not be afraid. God shall fill + his heart with laughter. I hear guns, I hear many voices. His name + is in them. He shall be strong. The powers of darkness shall fear + him, he shall be a lawmaker and the friend of God and of many + people, and great men shall bow to his judgment and he shall--" + +She began shaking her head thoughtfully and did not finish the sentence, +and by and by the notion came to me that some unpleasant vision must +have halted her pencil. + +Aunt Deel brought some luncheon wrapped in paper and the old woman took +it and went away. My aunt folded the sheets and put them in her trunk +and we thought no more of them until--but we shall know soon what +reminded us of the prophet woman. + +The autumn passed swiftly. I went to the village one Saturday with Uncle +Peabody in high hope of seeing the Dunkelbergs, but at their door we +learned that they had gone up the river on a picnic. What a blow it was +to me! Tears flowed down my cheeks as I clung to my uncle's hand and +walked back to the main street of the village. A squad of small boys +jeered and stuck out their tongues at me. It was pity for my sorrows, no +doubt, that led Uncle Peabody to take me to the tavern for dinner, where +they were assuaged by cakes and jellies and chicken pie. + +When we came out of the tavern we saw Benjamin Grimshaw and his son Amos +sitting on the well curb. Each had a half-eaten doughnut in one hand and +an apple in the other. I remember that Mr. Grimshaw said in a scolding +manner which made me dislike him: + +"Baynes, I'm glad to see you're so prosperous. Only the rich can afford +to eat in taverns. Our dinner has cost us just three cents, an' I +wouldn't wonder if I was worth about as much as you are." + +My uncle made no reply and we passed on to a store nearly opposite the +well, where I became deeply interested in a man who had tapped me in the +stomach with his forefinger while he made a sound like the squealing of +a rat. Then he said to Uncle Peabody: + +"Look at that man out there by the well! He's the richest man in this +section o' country. He owns half o' this village. I wouldn't wonder if +he was worth fifty thousand dollars at least. What do ye suppose he +spent for his dinner?" + +"Three cents," said my uncle. + +"Guess again--it was a cent and a half. He came in here and asked how +much were the doughnuts. I told him they were a cent a piece. He offered +me three cents for four of them--said it was all the change he had. He +and his boy are eating them with some apples that they had in their +pockets." + +I remember how my uncle and the man laughed as the latter said: "His +wealth costs too much altogether. 'Tain't worth it"--a saying which my +uncle often quoted. + +Thus early I got a notion of the curious extravagance of the money +worshiper. How different was my uncle, who cared too little for money! + +At Christmas I got a picture-book and forty raisins and three sticks of +candy with red stripes on them and a jew's-harp. That was the Christmas +we went down to Aunt Liza's to spend the day and I helped myself to two +pieces of cake when the plate was passed and cried because they all +laughed at my greediness. It was the day when Aunt Liza's boy, Truman, +got a silver watch and chain and her daughter Mary a gold ring, and when +all the relatives were invited to come and be convinced, once and for +all, of Uncle Roswell's prosperity and be filled with envy and +reconciled with jelly and preserves and roast turkey with sage dressing +and mince and chicken pie. What an amount of preparation we had made for +the journey, and how long we had talked about it! When we had shut the +door and were ready to get into the sleigh our dog Shep came whining +around us. I shall never forget how Uncle Peabody talked to him. + +"Go back, Shep--go back to the house an' stay on the piaz," he began. +"Go back I tell ye. It's Christmas day an' we're goin' down to ol' Aunt +Liza's. Ye can't go way down there. No, sir, ye can't. Go back an' lay +down on the piaz." + +Shep was fawning at my uncle's foot and rubbing his neck on his boot and +looking up at him. + +"What's that ye say?" Uncle Peabody went on, looking down and turning +his ear as if he had heard the dog speak and were in some doubt of his +meaning. "Eh? What's that? An empty house makes ye terrible sad on a +Chris'mas day? What's that? Ye love us an' ye'd like to go along down to +Aunt Liza's an' play with the children?" + +It was a clever ruse of Uncle Peabody, for Aunt Deel was softened by his +interpretation of the dog's heart and she proposed: + +"Le's take him along with us--poor dog! ayes!" + +Then Uncle Peabody shouted: + +"Jump right into the sleigh--you ol' skeezucks!--an' I'll cover ye up +with a hoss blanket. Git in here. We ain't goin' to leave nobody alone +on Chris'mas day that loves us--not by a jug full--no, sir! I wouldn't +wonder if Jesus died for dogs an' hosses as well as for men." + +Shep had jumped in the back of the sleigh at the first invitation and +lay quietly under his blanket as we hurried along in the well-trod snow +and the bells jingled. It was a joyful day and old Shep was as merry and +well fed as the rest of us. + +How cold and sad and still the house seemed when we got back to it in +the evening! We had to drive to a neighbor's and borrow fire and bring +it home with us in a pail of ashes as we were out of tinder. I held the +lantern for my uncle while he did the chores and when we had gone to bed +I fell asleep hearing him tell of Joseph and Mary going to pay their +taxes. + +In the spring my uncle hired a man to work for us--a noisy, brawny, +sharp-featured fellow with keen gray eyes, of the name of Dug Draper. +Aunt Deel hated him. I feared him but regarded him with great hope +because he had a funny way of winking at me with one eye across the +table and, further, because he could sing and did sing while he +worked--songs that rattled from his lips in a way that amused me +greatly. Then, too, he could rip out words that had a new and wonderful +sound in them. I made up my mind that he was likely to become a valuable +asset when I heard Aunt Deel say to my Uncle Peabody: + +"You'll have to send that loafer away, right now, ayes I guess you +will." + +"Why?" + +"Because this boy has learnt to swear like a pirate--ayes--he has!" + +Uncle Peabody didn't know it but I myself had begun to suspect it, and +that hour the man was sent away, and I remember that he left in anger +with a number of those new words flying from his lips. A forced march to +the upper room followed that event. Uncle Peabody explained that it was +wicked to swear--that boys who did it had very bad luck, and mine came +in a moment. I never had more of it come along in the same length of +time. + +One day in the spring when the frogs were chanting in the swamp land, +they seemed to be saying, "Dunkelberg, Dunkelberg, Dunkelberg, +Dunkelberg," from morning to bedtime. I was helping Uncle Peabody to fix +the fence when he said: + +"Hand me that stake, Bub. Don't be so much of a gentleman." + +I handed the stake to him and then I said: + +"Uncle Peabody, I want to be a gentleman." + +"A gentleman!" he exclaimed as he looked down at me thoughtfully. + +"A grand, noble gentleman with a sword and a gold watch and chain and +diamonds on," I exclaimed. + +He leaned against the top rail of the fence and looked down at me and +laughed. + +"Whatever put that in yer head?" he asked. + +"Oh, I don't know--how do ye be it?" I demanded. + +"They's two ways," said he. "One is to begin 'fore you're born and pick +out the right father. T'other is to begin after you're born and pick out +the right son. You can make yerself whatever you want to be. It's all +inside of a boy and it comes out by and by--swords and gold and +diamonds, or rags an' dirt an' shovels an' crowbars." + +I wondered what I had inside of me. + +"I guess I ain't got any sword in me," I said. + +"When you've been eating green apples and I wouldn't wonder," he +answered as he went on with his work. + +"Once I thought I heard a watch tickin' in my throat," I said hopefully. + +"I don't mean them things is really in ye, but the power to git 'em is +in ye," said Uncle Peabody. "That's what I mean--power. Be a good boy +and study yer lessons and never lie, and the power'll come into ye jest +as sure as you're alive." + +I began to watch myself for symptoms of power. + +After I ceased to play with the Wills boy Uncle Peabody used to say, +often, it was a pity that I hadn't somebody of my own age for company. +Every day I felt sorry that the Wills boy had turned out so badly, and I +doubt not the cat and the shepherd dog and the chickens and Uncle +Peabody also regretted his failures, especially the dog and Uncle +Peabody, who bore all sorts of indignities for my sake. + +In the circumstances I had to give a good deal of time to the proper +education of my uncle. Naturally he preferred to waste his time with +shovels and rakes. But he soon learned how to roll a hoop and play tag +and ball and yard off and how to run like a horse when I sat on his +shoulders. It was rather hard on him, after his work in the fields, but +he felt his responsibility and applied himself with due diligence and +became a very promising child. I also gave strict attention to his +talent for story-telling. It improved rapidly. Being frank in my +criticism he was able to profit by all his failures in taste and method, +so that each story had a fierce bear in it and a fair amount of growling +by and by. But I could not teach him to sing, and it was a great sorrow +to me. I often tried and he tried, but I saw that it wasn't going to +pay. He couldn't make the right kind of a noise. Through all this I did +not neglect his morals. If he said an improper word--and I regret to say +that he did now and then--I promptly corrected him and reported his +conduct to Aunt Deel, and if she was inclined to be too severe I took +his part and, now and then, got snapped on the forehead for the vigor of +my defense. On the whole it is no wonder that Uncle Peabody wearied of +his schooling. + +One day when Uncle Peabody went for the mail he brought Amos Grimshaw to +visit me. I had not seen him since the day he was eating doughnuts in +the village with his father. He was four years older than I--a freckled, +red-haired boy with a large mouth and thin lips. He wore a silver watch +and chain, which strongly recommended him in my view and enabled me to +endure his air of condescension. + +He let me feel it and look it all over and I slyly touched the chain +with my tongue just to see if it had any taste to it, and Amos told me +that his grandfather had given it to him and that it always kept him +"kind o' scairt." + +"Why?" + +"For fear I'll break er lose it an' git licked," he answered. + +We went and sat down on the hay together, and I showed him the pennies I +had saved and he showed me where his father had cut his leg that morning +with a blue beech rod. + +"Don't you ever git licked?" he asked. + +"No," I answered. + +"I guess that's because you ain't got any father," he answered. "I wish +I hadn't. There's nobody so mean as a father. Mine makes me work every +day an' never gives me a penny an' licks me whenever I do anything that +I want to. I've made up my mind to run away from home." + +After a moment of silence he exclaimed: + +"Gosh! It's awful lonesome here! Gee whittaker! this is the worst place +I ever saw!" + +I tried to think of something that I could say for it. + +"We have got a new corn sheller," I said, rather timidly. + +"I don't care about your corn shellers," he answered with a look of +scorn. + +He took a little yellow paper-covered book from his pocket and began to +read to himself. + +I felt thoroughly ashamed of the place and sat near him and, for a time, +said nothing as he read. + +"What's that?" I ventured to ask by and by. + +"A story," he answered. "I met that ragged ol' woman in the road t'other +day an' she give me a lot of 'em an' showed me the pictures an' I got to +readin' 'em. Don't you tell anybody 'cause my ol' dad hates stories an' +he'd lick me 'til I couldn't stan' if he knew I was readin' 'em." + +I begged him to read out loud and he read from a tale of two robbers +named Thunderbolt and Lightfoot who lived in a cave in the mountains. +They were bold, free, swearing men who rode beautiful horses at a wild +gallop and carried guns and used them freely and with unerring skill, +and helped themselves to what they wanted. + +He stopped, by and by, and confided to me the fact that he thought he +would run away and join a band of robbers. + +"How do you run away?" I asked. + +"Just take the turnpike and keep goin' toward the mountains. When ye +meet a band o' robbers give 'em the sign an' tell 'em you want to join." + +He went on with the book and read how the robbers had hung a captive who +had persecuted them and interfered with their sport. The story explained +how they put the rope around the neck of the captive and threw the +other end of it over the limb of a tree and pulled the man into the air. + +He stopped suddenly and demanded: "Is there a long rope here?" + +I pointed to Uncle Peabody's hay rope hanging on a peg. + +"Le's hang a captive," he proposed. + +At first I did not comprehend his meaning. He got the rope and threw its +end over the big beam. Our old shepherd dog had been nosing the mow near +us for rats. Amos caught the dog who, suspecting no harm, came passively +to the rope's end. He tied the rope around the dog's neck. + +"We'll draw him up once--it won't hurt him any," he proposed. + +I looked at him in silence. My heart smote me, but I hadn't the courage +to take issue with the owner of a silver watch. When the dog began to +struggle I threw my arms about him and cried. Aunt Deel happened to be +near. She came and saw Amos pulling at the rope and me trying to save +the dog. + +"Come right down off'm that mow--this minute," said she. + +When we had come down and the dog had followed pulling the rope after +him, Aunt Deel was pale with anger. + +"Go right home--right home," said she to Amos. + +"Mr. Baynes said that he would take me up with the horses," said Amos. + +"Ye can use shank's horses--ayes!--they're good enough for you," Aunt +Deel insisted, and so the boy went away in disgrace. + +I blushed to think of the poor opinion he would have of the place now. +It seemed to me a pity that it should be made any worse, but I couldn't +help it. + +"Where are your pennies?" Aunt Deel said to me. + +I felt in my pockets but couldn't find them. + +"Where did ye have `em last?" my aunt demanded. + +"On the haymow." + +"Come an' show me." + +We went to the mow and search for the pennies, but not one of them could +we find. + +I remembered that when I saw them last Amos had them in his hand. + +"I'm awful 'fraid for him--ayes I be!" said Aunt Deel. "I'm 'fraid +Rovin' Kate was right about him--ayes!" + +"What did she say?" I asked. + +"That he was goin' to be hung--ayes! You can't play with him no more. +Boys that take what don't belong to `em--which I hope he didn't--ayes I +hope it awful--are apt to be hung by their necks until they are +dead--jest as he was goin' to hang ol' Shep--ayes!--they are!" + +Again I saw the dark figure of old Kate standing in the sunlight and +her ragged garments and bony hands and heard the hiss of her flying +pencil point. I clung to my aunt's dress for a moment and then I found +old Shep and sat down beside him with my arm around his neck. I did not +speak of the story because I had promised not to and felt sure that Amos +would do something to me if I did. + +Uncle Peabody seemed to feel very badly when he learned how Amos had +turned out. + +"Don't say a word about it," said he. "Mebbe you lost the pennies. Don't +mind 'em." + +Soon after that, one afternoon, Aunt Deel came down in the field where +we were dragging. While she was talking with Uncle Peabody an idea +occurred to me and the dog and I ran for the house. There was a pan of +honey on the top shelf of the pantry and ever since I had seen it put +there I had cherished secret designs. + +I ran into the deserted house, and with the aid of a chair climbed to +the first shelf and then to the next, and reached into the pan and drew +out a comb of honey, and with no delay whatever it went to my mouth. +Suddenly it seemed to me that I had been hit by lightning. It was the +sting of a bee. I felt myself going and made a wild grab and caught the +edge of the pan and down we came to the floor--the pan and I--with a +great crash. + +I discovered that I was in desperate pain and trouble and I got to my +feet and ran. I didn't know where I was going. It seemed to me that any +other place would be better than that. My feet took me toward the barn +and I crawled under it and hid there. My lip began to feel better, by +and by, but big and queer. It stuck out so that I could see it. I heard +my uncle coming with the horses. I concluded that I would stay where I +was, but the dog came and sniffed and barked at the hole through which I +had crawled as if saying, "Here he is!" My position was untenable. I +came out. Shep began trying to clean my clothes with his tongue. Uncle +Peabody stood near with the horses. He looked at me. He stuck his finger +into the honey on my coat and smelt it. + +"Well, by--" he stopped and came closer and asked. + +"What's happened?" + +"Bee stung me," I answered. + +"Where did ye find so much honey that ye could go swimmin' in it?" he +asked. + +I heard the door of the house open suddenly and the voice of Aunt Deel. + +"Peabody! Peabody! come here quick," she called. + +Uncle Peabody ran to the house, but I stayed out with the dog. + +Through the open door I heard Aunt Deel saying: "I can't stan' it any +longer and I won't--not another day--ayes, I can't stan' it. That boy is +a reg'lar pest." + +They came out on the veranda. Uncle Peabody said nothing, but I could +see that he couldn't stand it either. My brain was working fast. + +"Come here, sir," Uncle Peabody called. + +I knew it was serious, for he had never called me "sir" before. I went +slowly to the steps. + +"My lord!" Aunt Deel exclaimed. "Look at that lip and the honey all over +him--ayes! I tell ye--I can't stan' it." + +"Say, boy, is there anything on this place that you ain't tipped over?" +Uncle Peabody asked in a sorrowful tone. "Wouldn't ye like to tip the +house over?" + +I was near breaking down in this answer: + +"I went into the but'ry and that pan jumped on to me." + +"Didn't you taste the honey?" + +"No," I drew in my breath and shook my head. + +"Liar, too!" said Aunt Deel. "I can't stan' it an' I won't." + +Uncle Peabody was sorely tried, but he was keeping down his anger. His +voice trembled as he said: + +"Boy, I guess you'll have to--" + +Uncle Peabody stopped. He had been driven to the last ditch, but he had +not stepped over it. However, I knew what he had started to say and sat +down on the steps in great dejection. Shep followed, working at my coat +with his tongue. + +I think that the sight of me must have touched the heart of Aunt Deel. + +"Peabody Baynes, we mustn't be cruel," said she in a softer tone, and +then she brought a rag and began to assist Shep in the process of +cleaning my coat. "Good land! He's got to stay here--ayes!--he ain't got +no other place to go to." + +"But if you can't stan' it," said Uncle Peabody. + +"I've got to stan' it--ayes!--I can't stan' it, but I've got to--ayes! +So have you." + +Aunt Deel put me to bed although it was only five o'clock. As I lay +looking up at the shingles a singular resolution came to me. It was born +of my longing for the companionship of my kind and of my resentment. I +would go and live with the Dunkelbergs. I would go the way they had gone +and find them. I knew it was ten miles away, but of course everybody +knew where the Dunkelbergs lived and any one would show me. I would run +and get there before dark and tell them that I wanted to live with them, +and every day I would play with Sally Dunkelberg. Uncle Peabody was not +half as nice to play with as she was. + +I heard Uncle Peabody drive away. I watched him through the open +window. I could hear Aunt Deel washing the dishes in the kitchen. I got +out of bed very slyly and put on my Sunday clothes. I went to the open +window. The sun had just gone over the top of the woods. I would have to +hurry to get to the Dunkelbergs' before dark. I crept out on the top of +the shed and descended the ladder that leaned against it. I stood a +moment listening. The dooryard was covered with shadows and very still. +The dog must have gone with Uncle Peabody. I ran through the garden to +the road and down it as fast as my bare feet could carry me. In that +direction the nearest house was almost a mile away. I remember I was out +of breath, and the light growing dim before I got to it. I went on. It +seemed to me that I had gone nearly far enough to reach my destination +when I heard a buggy coming behind me. + +"Hello!" a voice called. + +I turned and looked up at Dug Draper, in a single buggy, dressed in his +Sunday suit. + +"Is it much further to where the Dunkelbergs live?" I asked. + +"The Dunkelbergs? Who be they?" + +It seemed to me very strange that he didn't know the Dunkelbergs. + +"Where Sally Dunkelberg lives." + +That was a clincher. He laughed and swore and said: + +"Git in here, boy. I'll take ye there." + +I got into the buggy, and he struck his horse with the whip and went +galloping away in the dusk. + +"I reckon you're tryin' to git away from that old pup of an aunt," said +he. "I don't wonder. I rather live with a she bear." + +I have omitted and shall omit the oaths and curses with which his talk +was flavored. + +"I'm gittin' out o' this country myself," said he. "It's too pious for +me." + +By and by we passed Rovin' Kate. I could just discern her ragged form by +the roadside and called to her. He struck his horse and gave me a rude +shake and bade me shut up. + +It was dark and I felt very cold and began to wish myself home in bed. + +"Ain't we most to the Dunkelbergs'?" I asked. + +"No--not yet," he answered. + +I burst into tears and he hit me a sounding whack in the face with his +hand. + +"No more whimperin'," he shouted. "Do ye hear me?" + +He hurt me cruelly and I was terribly frightened and covered my face and +smothered my cries and was just a little quaking lump of misery. + +He shook me roughly and shoved me down on the buggy floor and said: + +"You lay there and keep still; do you hear?" + +"Yes," I sobbed. + +I lay shaking with fear and fighting my sorrow and keeping as still as I +could with it, until, wearied by the strain, I fell asleep. + +What an angel of mercy is sleep! Down falls her curtain and away she +leads us--delivered! free!--into some magic country where are the things +we have lost--perhaps even joy and youth and strength and old +friendships. + +What befell me that night while I dreamed of playing with the +sweet-faced girl I have wondered often. Some time in the night Dug +Draper had reached the village of Canton, and got rid of me. He had +probably put me out at the water trough. Kind hands had picked me up and +carried me to a little veranda that fronted the door of a law office. +There I slept peacefully until daylight, when I felt a hand on my face +and awoke suddenly. I remember that I felt cold. A kindly faced man +stood leaning over me. + +"Hello, boy!" said he. "Where did you come from?" + +I was frightened and confused, but his gentle voice reassured me. + +"Uncle Peabody!" I called, as I arose and looked about me and began to +cry. + +The man lifted me in his arms and held me close to his breast and tried +to comfort me. I remember seeing the Silent Woman pass while I was in +his arms. + +"Tell me what's your name," he urged. + +"Barton Baynes," I said as soon as I could speak. + +"Where is your father?" + +"In Heaven," I answered, that being the place to which he had moved, as +I understood it. + +"Where do you live?" + +"In Lickitysplit." + +"How did you get here?" + +"Dug Draper brought me. Do you know where Sally Dunkelberg lives?" + +"Is she the daughter of Horace Dunkelberg?" + +"Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg," I amended. + +"Oh, yes, I know her. Sally is a friend of mine. We'll get some +breakfast and then we'll go and find her." + +He carried me through the open door of his office and set me down at his +desk. The cold air of the night had chilled me and I was shivering. + +"You sit there and I'll have a fire going in a minute and get you warmed +up." + +He wrapped me in his coat and went into the back room and built a fire +in a small stove and brought me in and set me down beside it. He made +some porridge in a kettle while I sat holding my little hands over the +stove to warm them, and a sense of comfort grew in me. Soon a boy came +bringing a small pail of fresh milk and a loaf of bread. I remember how +curiously the boy eyed me as he said to my new friend: + +"Captain Moody wants to know if you'll come up to dinner?" + +There was a note of dignity in the reply which was new to me, and for +that reason probably I have always remembered it. + +"Please present my thanks to the Captain and tell him that I expect to +go up to Lickitysplit in the town of Ballybeen." + +He dipped some porridge into bowls and put them on a small table. My +eyes had watched him with growing interest and I got to the table about +as soon as the porridge and mounted a chair and seized a spoon. + +"One moment, Bart," said my host. "By jingo! We've forgotten to wash, +and your face looks like the dry bed of a river. Come here a minute." + +He led me out of the back door, where there were a wash-stand and a pail +and a tin basin and a dish of soft soap. He dipped the pail in a rain +barrel and filled the basin, and I washed myself and waited not upon my +host, but made for the table and began to eat, being very hungry, after +hastily drying my face on a towel. In a minute he came and sat down to +his own porridge and bread and butter. + +"Bart, don't dig so fast," said he. "You're down to hard pan now. Never +be in a hurry to see the bottom of the bowl." + +I have never forgotten the look of amusement in his big, smiling, gray +eyes as they looked down upon me out of his full, ruddy, smooth-shaven +face. It inspired confidence and I whispered timidly: + +"Could I have some more?" + +"All you want," he answered, as he put another ladle full in my bowl. + +When we had finished eating he set aside the dishes and I asked: + +"Now could I go and see Sally Dunkelberg?" + +"What in the world do you want of Sally Dunkelberg?" he asked. + +"Oh, just to play with her," I said as I showed him how I could sit on +my hands and raise myself from the chair bottom. + +"Haven't you any one to play with at home?" + +"Only my Uncle Peabody." + +"Don't you like to play with him?" + +"Oh, some, but he can't stand me any longer. He's all tired out, and my +Aunt Deel, too. I've tipped over every single thing on that place. I +tipped over the honey yesterday--spillt it all over everything and +rooend my clothes. I'm a reg'lar pest. So I want to play with Sally +Dunkelberg. She knows all kinds o' riddles and games and all about +grand ladies and gentlemen and she wears shiny shoes and her hair smells +just like roses, and I want to play with her a little while--just a wee +little while." + +I had unburdened my soul. The above words are quoted not from my memory, +but from his, which has always been most reliable. I remember well my +thoughts and feelings but not many of my words on a day so distant. + +"Forward, march!" said he and away we started for the home of the +Dunkelbergs. The village interested me immensely. I had seen it only +twice before. People were moving about in the streets. One thing I did +not fail to notice. Every man we met touched his hat as he greeted my +friend. + +"Good morning, Sile," some said, as we passed them, or, "How are you, +Comptroller?" + +It was a square, frame house--that of the Dunkelbergs--large for that +village, and had a big dooryard with trees in it. As we came near the +gate I saw Sally Dunkelberg playing with other children among the trees. +Suddenly I was afraid and began to hang back. I looked down at my bare +feet and my clothes, both of which were dirty. Sally and her friends had +stopped their play and were standing in a group looking at us. I heard +Sally whisper: + +"It's that Baynes boy. Don't he look dirty?" + +I stopped and withdrew my hand from that of my guide. + +"Come on, Bart," he said. + +I shook my head and stood looking over at that little, hostile tribe +near me. + +"Go and play with them while I step into the house," he urged. + +Again I shook my head. + +"Well, then, you wait here a moment," said my new-found friend. + +He left me and I sat down upon the ground, thoughtful and silent. + +He went to the children and kissed Sally and whispered in her ear and +passed on into the house. The children walked over to me. + +"Hello, Bart!" said Sally. + +"Hello!" I answered. + +"Wouldn't you like to play with us?" + +I shook my head. + +Some of them began to whisper and laugh. I remember how beautiful the +girls looked with their flowing hair and ribbons and pretty dresses. +What happy faces they had! I wonder why it all frightened and distressed +me so. + +In a moment my friend came out with Mrs. Dunkelberg, who kissed me, and +asked me to tell how I happened to be there. + +"I just thought I would come," I said as I twisted a button on my coat, +and would say no more to her. + +"Mr. Wright, you're going to take him home, are you?" Mrs. Dunkelberg +asked. + +"Yes. I'll start off with him in an hour or so," said my friend. "I am +interested in this boy and I want to see his aunt and uncle." + +"Let him stay here with us until you're ready to go." + +"I don't want to stay here," I said, seizing my friend's hand. + +"Well, Sally, you go down to the office and stay with Bart until they +go." + +"You'd like that wouldn't you?" the man asked of me. + +"I don't know," I said. + +"That means yes," said the man. + +Sally and another little girl came with us and passing a store I held +back to look at many beautiful things in a big window. + +"Is there anything you'd like there, Bart?" the man asked. + +"I wisht I had a pair o' them shiny shoes with buttons on," I answered +in a low, confidential tone, afraid to express, openly, a wish so +extravagant. + +"Come right in," he said, and I remember that when we entered the store +I could hear my heart beating. + +He bought a pair of shoes for me and I would have them on at once, and +that made it necessary for him to buy a pair of socks also. After the +shoes were buttoned on my feet I saw little of Sally Dunkelberg or the +other people of the village, my eyes being on my feet most of the time. + +The man took us into his office and told us to sit down until he could +write a letter. + +I remember how, as he wrote, I stood by his chair and examined the +glazed brown buttons on his coat and bit one of them to see how hard it +was, while Sally was feeling his gray hair and necktie. He scratched +along with his quill pen as if wholly unaware of our presence. + +Soon a horse and buggy came for us and I briefly answered Sally's +good-by before the man drove away with me. I remember telling him as we +went on over the rough road, between fields of ripened grain, of my +watermelon and my dog and my little pet hen. + +I shall not try to describe that home coming. We found Aunt Deel in the +road five miles from home. She had been calling and traveling from house +to house most of the night, and I have never forgotten her joy at seeing +me and her tender greeting. She got into the buggy and rode home with +us, holding me in her lap. Uncle Peabody and one of our neighbors had +been out in the woods all night with pine torches. I recall how, +although excited by my return, he took off his hat at the sight of my +new friend and said: + +"Mr. Wright, I never wished that I lived in a palace until now." + +He didn't notice me until I held up both feet and called: "Look a' +there, Uncle Peabody." + +Then he came and took me out of the buggy and I saw the tears in his +eyes when he kissed me. + +The man told of finding me on his little veranda, and I told of my ride +with Dug Draper, after which Uncle Peabody said: + +"I'm goin' to put in your hoss and feed him, Comptroller." + +"And I'm goin' to cook the best dinner I ever cooked in my life," said +Aunt Deel. + +I knew that my new friend must be even greater than the Dunkelbergs, for +there was a special extravagance in their tone and manner toward him +which I did not fail to note. His courtesy and the distinction of his +address, as he sat at our table, were not lost upon me, either. During +the meal I heard that Dug Draper had run off with a neighbor's horse and +buggy and had not yet returned. Aunt Deel said that he had taken me with +him out of spite, and that he would probably never come back--a +suspicion justified by the facts of history. + +When the great man had gone Uncle Peabody took me in his lap and said +very gently and with a serious look: + +"You didn't think I meant it, did ye?--that you would have to go 'way +from here?" + +"I don't know," was my answer. + +"Course I didn't mean that. I just wanted ye to see that it wa'n't goin' +to do for you to keep on tippin' things over so." + +I sat telling them of my adventures and answering questions, flattered +by their tender interest, until milking time. I thoroughly enjoyed all +that. When I rose to go out with Uncle Peabody, Aunt Deel demanded my +shoes. + +"Take 'em right off," said she. "It ain't a goin' to do to wear 'em +common--no, sir-ee! They're for meetin' or when company comes--ayes!" + +I regretfully took off the shoes and gave them to her, and thereafter +the shoes were guarded as carefully as the butternut trousers. + +That evening as I was about to go up-stairs to bed, Aunt Deel said to my +uncle: + +"Do you remember what ol' Kate wrote down about him? This is his first +peril an' he has met his first great man an' I can see that Sile Wright +is kind o' fond o' him." + +I went to sleep that night thinking of the strange, old, ragged, silent +woman. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +WE GO TO MEETING AND SEE MR. WRIGHT AGAIN + + +I had a chill that night and in the weeks that followed I was nearly +burned up with lung fever. Doctor Clark came from Canton to see me every +other day for a time, and one evening Mr. Wright came with him and +watched all night near my bedside. He gave me medicine every hour, and I +remember how gently he would speak and raise my head when he came with +the spoon and the draft. It grieved me to hear him say, as he raised me +in his arms, that I wasn't bigger than "a cock mosquito." + +I would lie and watch him as he put a stick on the fire and tiptoed to +his armchair by the table, on which three lighted candles were burning. +Then he would adjust his spectacles, pick up his book, and begin to +read, and I would see him smile or frown or laugh until I wondered what +was between the black covers of the book to move him so. In the morning +he said that he could come the next Tuesday night, if we needed him, and +set out right after breakfast, in the dim dawn light, to walk to Canton. + +"Peabody Baynes," said my Aunt Deel as she stood looking out of the +window at Mr. Wright, "that is one of the grandest, splendidest men that +I ever see or heard of. He's an awful smart man, an' a day o' his time +is worth more'n a month of our'n, but he comes away off here to set up +with a sick young one and walks back. Does beat all--don't it?--ayes!" + +"If any one needs help Sile Wright is always on hand," said Uncle +Peabody. + +I was soon out of bed and he came no more to sit up with me. + +When I was well again Aunt Deel said one day "Peabody Baynes, I ain't +heard no preachin' since Mr Pangborn died. I guess we better go down to +Canton to meetin' some Sunday. If there ain't no minister Sile Wright +always reads a sermon, if he's home, and the paper says he don't go 'way +for a month yit. I kind o' feel the need of a good sermon--ayes!" + +"All right. I'll hitch up the hosses and we'll go. We can start at eight +o'clock and take a bite with us an' git back here by three." + +"Could I wear my new shoes and trousers?" I asked joyfully. + +"Ayes I guess ye can if you're a good boy--ayes!" said Aunt Deel. + +I had told Aunt Deel what Sally had said of my personal appearance. + +"Your coat is good enough for anybody--ayes!" said she. "I'll make you +a pair o' breeches an' then I guess you won't have to be 'shamed no +more." + +She had spent several evenings making them out of an old gray flannel +petticoat of hers and had put two pockets in them of which I was very +proud. They came just to the tops of my shoes, which pleased me, for +thereby the glory of my new shoes suffered no encroachment. + +The next Sunday after they were finished we had preaching in the +schoolhouse and I was eager to go and wear my wonderful trousers. Uncle +Peabody said that he didn't know whether his leg would hold out or not +"through a whole meetin'." His left leg was lame from a wrench and +pained him if he sat long in one position. I greatly enjoyed this first +public exhibition of my new trousers. I remember praying in silence, as +we sat down, that Uncle Peabody's leg would hold out. Later, when the +long sermon had begun to weary me, I prayed that it would not. + +I decided that meetin's were not a successful form of entertainment. +Indeed, Sunday was for me a lost day. It was filled with shaving and +washing and reading and an overwhelming silence. Uncle Peabody always +shaved after breakfast and then he would sit down to read the _St. +Lawrence Republican_. Both occupations deprived him utterly of his +usefulness as an uncle. I remember that I regarded the razor and the +_Republican_ as my worst enemies. The _Republican_ earned my keenest +dislike, for it always put my uncle to sleep and presently he would +stretch out on the lounge and begin to puff and snore and then Aunt Deel +always went around on her tiptoes and said sh-h-h! She spent the greater +part of the forenoon in her room washing and changing her clothes and +reading the Bible. How loudly the clock ticked that day! How defiantly +the cock crew! It seemed as if he were making special efforts to start +up the life of the farm. How shrill were the tree crickets! Often Shep +and I would steal off into the back lot trying to scare up a squirrel +and I would look longingly down the valley, and could dimly see the +roofs of houses where there were other children. I would gladly have +made friends with the Wills boy, but he would have nothing to do with +me, and soon his people moved away. My uncle said that Mr. Grimshaw had +foreclosed their mortgage. + +The fields were so still that I wondered if the grass grew on Sunday. +The laws of God and nature seemed to be in conflict, for our livers got +out of order and some one of us always had a headache in the afternoon. +It was apt to be Uncle Peabody, as I had reason to know, for I always +begged him to go in swimmin' with me in the afternoon. + +It was a beautiful summer morning as we drove down the hills and from +the summit of the last high ridge we could see the smoke of a steamer +looming over the St. Lawrence and the big buildings of Canton on the +distant flats below us. My heart beat fast when I reflected that I +should soon see Mr. Wright and the Dunkelbergs. I had lost a little of +my interest in Sally. Still I felt sure that when she saw my new +breeches she would conclude that I was a person not to be trifled with. + +When we got to Canton people were flocking to the big stone Presbyterian +Church. We drove our horses under the shed of the tavern and Uncle +Peabody brought them water from the pump and fed them, out of our own +bag under the buggy seat, before we went to the church. + +It was what they called a "deacon meeting." I remember that Mr. Wright +read from the Scriptures, and having explained that there was no +minister in the village, read one of Mr. Edwards' sermons, in the course +of which I went to sleep on the arm of my aunt. She awoke me when the +service had ended, and whispered: + +"Come, we're goin' down to speak to Mr. Wright." + +We saw Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg in the aisle, who said that they +would wait for us outside the church. + +I remember that Mr. Wright kissed me and said: + +"Hello! Here's my boy in a new pair o' trousers!" + +"Put yer hand in there," I said proudly, as I took my own out of one of +my pockets, and pointed the way. + +He did not accept the invitation, but laughed heartily and gave me a +little hug. + +When we went out of the church there stood Mr. and Mrs. Horace +Dunkelberg, and Sally and some other children. It was a tragic moment +for me when Sally laughed and ran behind her mother. Still worse was it +when a couple of boys ran away crying, "Look at the breeches!" + +I looked down at my breeches and wondered what was wrong with them. They +seemed very splendid to me and yet I saw at once that they were not +popular. I went close to my Aunt Deel and partly hid myself in her +cloak. I heard Mrs. Dunkelberg say: + +"Of course you'll come to dinner with us?" + +For a second my hopes leaped high. I was hungry and visions of jelly +cake and preserves rose before me. Of course there were the trousers, +but perhaps Sally would get used to the trousers and ask me to play with +her. + +"Thank ye, but we've got a good ways to go and we fetched a bite with +us--ayes!" said Aunt Deel. + +Eagerly I awaited an invitation from the great Mrs. Dunkelberg that +should be decisively urgent, but she only said: + +"I'm very sorry you can't stay." + +My hopes fell like bricks and vanished like bubbles. + +The Dunkelbergs left us with pleasant words. They had asked me to shake +hands with Sally, but I had clung to my aunt's cloak and firmly refused +to make any advances. Slowly and without a word we walked across the +park toward the tavern sheds. Hot tears were flowing down my +cheeks--silent tears! for I did not wish to explain them. Furtively I +brushed them away with my hand. The odor of frying beef steak came out +of the open doors of the tavern. It was more than I could stand. I +hadn't tasted fresh meat since Uncle Peabody had killed a deer in +midsummer. He gave me a look of understanding, but said nothing for a +minute. Then he proposed: + +"Mebbe we better git dinner here?" + +Aunt Deel hesitated at the edge of the stable yard, surrounded as she +was by the aroma of the fleshpots, then: + +"I guess we better go right home and save our money, Peabody--ayes!" +said she. "We told Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg that we was goin' home +and they'd think we was liars." + +"We orto have gone with `em," said Uncle Peabody as he unhitched the +horses. + +"Well, Peabody Baynes, they didn't appear to be very anxious to have +us," Aunt Deel answered with a sigh. + +We had started away up the South road when, to my surprise, Aunt Deel +mildly attacked the Dunkelbergs. + +"These here village folks like to be waited on--ayes!--an' they're awful +anxious you should come to see 'em when ye can't--ayes!--but when ye git +to the village they ain't nigh so anxious--no they ain't!" + +Uncle Peabody made no answer, but sat looking forward thoughtfully and +tapping the dashboard with his whipstock, and we rode on in a silence +broken only by the creak of the evener and the sound of the horses' +hoofs in the sand. + +In the middle of the great cedar swamp near Little River Aunt Deel got +out the lunch basket and I sat down on the buggy bottom between their +legs and leaning against the dash. So disposed we ate our luncheon of +fried cakes and bread and butter and maple sugar and cheese. The road +was a straight alley through the evergreen forest, and its grateful +shadow covered us. When we had come out into the hot sunlight by the +Hale farm both my aunt and uncle complained of headache. What an +efficient cure for good health were the doughnuts and cheese and sugar, +especially if they were mixed with the idleness of a Sunday. I had a +headache also and soon fell asleep. + +The sun was low when they awoke me in our dooryard. + +"Hope it'll be some time 'fore ye feel the need of another sermon," said +Uncle Peabody as Aunt Deel got out of the buggy. "I ain't felt so wicked +in years." + +I was so sick that Aunt Deel put me to bed and said that she would feed +the pigs and the chickens. Sick as he was, Uncle Peabody had to milk the +cows. How relentless were the cows! + +I soon discovered that the Dunkelbergs had fallen from their high estate +in our home and that Silas Wright, Jr., had taken their place in the +conversation of Aunt Deel. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +OUR LITTLE STRANGE COMPANION + + +In the pathless forest we had a little companion that always knew its +way. No matter how strange and remote the place might be or how black +the night its tiny finger always pointed in the same direction. By the +light of the torch at midnight, in blinding darkness, I have seen it +sway and settle toward its beloved goal. It seemed to be thinking of +some far country which it desired to recommend to us. + +It seemed to say: "Look! I know not which way is yours, but this--this +is my way and all the little cross roads lead off it." + +What a wonderful wisdom it had! I remember it excited a feeling of awe +in me as if it were a spirit and not a tool. + +The reader will have observed that my uncle spoke of the compass as if +it directed plant and animal in achieving their purposes. From the +beginning in the land of my birth it had been a thing as familiar as the +dial and as necessary. The farms along our road were only stumpy +recesses in the wilderness, with irregular curving outlines of thick +timber--beech and birch and maple and balsam and spruce and pine and +tamarack--forever whispering of the unconquered lands that rolled in +great billowy ridges to the far horizon. + +We were surrounded by the gloom and mystery of the forest. If one left +the road or trail for even a short walk he needed a compass to guide +him. That little brass box with its needle, swaying and seeming to +quiver with excitement as it felt its way to the north side of the +circle and pointed unerringly at last toward its favorite star, filled +me with wonder. + +"Why does it point toward the north star?" I used to ask. + +"That's a secret," said Uncle Peabody. "I wouldn't wonder if the gate o' +heaven was up there. Maybe it's a light in God's winder. Who knows? I +kind o' mistrust it's the direction we're all goin' in." + +"You talk like one o' them Universalists," said Aunt Deel. "They're +gettin' thick as flies around here." + +"Wal, I kind o' believe--" he paused at the edge of what may have been a +dangerous opinion. + +I shook the box and the needle swung and quivered back and forth and +settled with its point in the north again. Oh, what a mystery! My eyes +grew big at the thought of it. + +"Do folks take compasses with 'em when they die?" I asked. + +"No, they don't need 'em then," said Uncle Peabody. "Everybody has a +kind of a compass in his own heart--same as watermelons and chickens +have. It shows us the way to be useful, and I guess the way o' +usefulness is the way to heaven every time." + +"An' the way o' uselessness is the way to hell," Aunt Deel added. + +One evening in the early summer the great Silas Wright had come to our +house from the village of Russell, where he had been training a company +of militia. + +I remember that as he entered our door he spoke in this fashion: +"Baynes, le's go fishing. All the way down the road I've heard the call +o' the brooks. I stopped on the Dingley Bridge and looked down at the +water. The trout were jumping so I guess they must 'a' got sunburnt and +freckled and sore. I can't stand too much o' that kind o' thing. It +riles me. I heard, long ago, that you were a first-class fisherman, so I +cut across lots and here I am." + +His vivid words touched my imagination and I have often recalled them. + +"Well, now by mighty! I--" Uncle Peabody drew the rein upon his +imagination at the very brink of some great extravagance and after a +moment's pause added: "We'll start out bright an' early in the mornin' +an' go up an' git Bill Seaver. He's got a camp on the Middle Branch, an' +he can cook almost as good as my sister." + +"Is your spring's work done?" + +"All done, an' I was kind o' thinkin'," said Uncle Peabody with a little +shake of his head. He didn't say of what he had been thinking, that +being unnecessary. + +"Bart, are you with us?" said Mr. Wright as he gave me a playful poke +with his hand. + +"May I go?" I asked my uncle. + +"I wouldn't wonder--go an' ask yer aunt," said Uncle Peabody. + +My soul was afire with eagerness. My feet shook the floor and I tipped +over a chair in my hurry to get to the kitchen, whither my aunt had gone +soon after the appearance of our guest. She was getting supper for Mr. +Wright. + +"Aunt Deel, I'm goin' fishin'," I said. + +"Fishin'! I guess not--ayes I do," she answered. + +It was more than I could stand. A roar of distress and disappointment +came from my lips. + +Uncle Peabody hurried into the kitchen. + +"The Comptroller wants him to go," said he. + +"He does?" she repeated as she stood with her hands on her hips looking +up at her brother. + +"He likes Bart and wants to take him along." + +"Wal, then, you'll have to be awful careful of him," said Aunt Deel. +"I'm 'fraid he'll plague ye--ayes!" + +"No, he won't--we'll love to have him." + +"Wal, I guess you could git Mary Billings to come over and stay with me +an' help with the chores--ayes, I wouldn't wonder!" + +I could contain my joy no longer, but ran into the other room on tiptoe +and announced excitedly that I was going. Then I rushed out of the open +door and rolled and tumbled in the growing grass, with the dog barking +at my side. In such times of joyful excitement I always rolled and +tumbled in the grass. It was my way of expressing inexpressible delight. + +I felt sorry for the dog. Poor fellow! He couldn't go fishing. He had to +stay home always. I felt sorry for the house and the dooryard and the +cows and the grindstone and Aunt Deel. The glow of the candles and the +odor of ham and eggs drew me into the house. Wistfully I watched the +great man as he ate his supper. I was always hungry those days. Mr. +Wright asked me to have an egg, but I shook my head and said "No, thank +you" with sublime self-denial. At the first hint from Aunt Deel I took +my candle and went up to bed. + +"I ain't afraid o' bears," I heard myself whispering as I undressed. I +whispered a good deal as my imagination ran away into the near future. + +Soon I blew out my candle and got into bed. The door was open at the +foot of the stairs. I could see the light and hear them talking. It had +been more than a year since Uncle Peabody had promised to take me into +the woods fishing, but most of our joys were enriched by long +anticipation filled with talk and fancy. + +I lay planning my behavior in the woods. It was to be helpful and polite +and generally designed to show that I could be a man among men. I lay a +long time whispering over details. There was to be no crying, even if I +did get hurt a little once in a while. Men never cried. Only babies +cried. I could hear Mr. Wright talking about Bucktails and Hunkers below +stairs and I could hear the peepers down in the marsh. + +Peepers and men who talked politics were alike to me those days. They +were beyond my understanding and generally put me to sleep--especially +the peepers. In my childhood the peepers were the bells of dream-land +calling me to rest. The sweet sound no sooner caught my ear than my +thoughts began to steal away on tiptoe and in a moment the house of my +brain was silent and deserted, and thereafter, for a time, only fairy +feet came into it. So even those happy thoughts of a joyous holiday soon +left me and I slept. + +I was awakened by a cool, gentle hand on my brow. I opened my eyes and +saw the homely and beloved face of Uncle Peabody smiling down at me. +What a face it was! It welcomed me, always, at the gates of the morning +and I saw it in the glow of the candle at night as I set out on my +lonely, dreaded voyage into dream-land. Do you wonder that I stop a +moment and wipe my glasses when I think of it? + +"Hello, Bart!" said he. "It's to-morrer." + +I sat up. The delicious odor of frying ham was in the air. The glow of +the morning sunlight was on the meadows. + +"Come on, ol' friend! By mighty! We're goin' to--" said Uncle Peabody. + +Happy thoughts came rushing into my brain again. What a tumult! I leaped +out of bed. + +"I'll be ready in a minute, Uncle Peabody," I said as, yawning, I drew +on my trousers. + +"Don't tear yer socks," he cautioned as I lost patience with their +unsympathetic behavior. + +He helped me with my boots, which were rather tight, and I flew +down-stairs with my coat half on and ran for the wash-basin just outside +the kitchen door. + +"Hello, Bart! If the fish don't bite to-day they ought to be ashamed o' +themselves," said Mr. Wright, who stood in the dooryard in an old suit +of clothes which belonged to Uncle Peabody. + +The sun had just risen over the distant tree-tops and the dew in the +meadow grass glowed like a net of silver and the air was chilly. The +chores were done. Aunt Deel appeared in the open door as I was wiping my +face and hands and said in her genial, company voice: + +"Breakfast is ready." + +Aunt Deel never shortened her words when company was there. Her respect +was always properly divided between her guest and the English language. + +How delicious were the ham, smoked in our own barrels, and the eggs +fried in its fat and the baked potatoes and milk gravy and the buckwheat +cakes and maple syrup, and how we ate of them! Two big pack baskets +stood by the window filled with provisions and blankets, and the black +bottom of Uncle Peabody's spider was on the top of one of them, with its +handle reaching down into the depths of the basket. The musket and the +powder horn had been taken down from the wall and the former leaned on +the window-sill. + +"If we see a deer we ain't goin' to let him bite us," said Uncle +Peabody. + +Aunt Deel kept nudging me under the table and giving me sharp looks to +remind me of my manners, for now it seemed as if a time had come when +eating was a necessary evil to be got through with as soon as possible. +Even Uncle Peabody tapped his cup lightly with his teaspoon, a familiar +signal of his by which he indicated that I was to put on the brakes. + +To Aunt Deel men-folks were a careless, irresponsible and mischievous +lot who had to be looked after all the time or there was no telling what +would happen to them. She slipped some extra pairs of socks and a bottle +of turpentine into the pack basket and told us what we were to do if we +got wet feet or sore throats or stomach ache. + +Aunt Deel kissed me lightly on the cheek with a look that seemed to say, +"There, I've done it at last," and gave me a little poke with her hand +(I remember thinking what an extravagant display of affection it was) +and many cautions before I got into the wagon with Mr. Wright, and my +uncle. We drove up the hills and I heard little that the men said for my +thoughts were busy. We arrived at the cabin of Bill Seaver that stood on +the river bank just above Rainbow Falls. Bill stood in his dooryard and +greeted us with a loud "Hello, there!" + +"Want to go fishin'?" Uncle Peabody called. + +"You bet I do. Gosh! I ain't had no fun since I went to Joe Brown's +funeral an' that day I enjoyed myself--damned if I didn't! Want to go up +the river?" + +"We thought we'd go up to your camp and fish a day or two." + +"All right! We'll hitch in the hosses. My wife'll take care of 'em 'til +we git back. Say it looks as fishy as hell, don't it?" + +"This is Mr. Silas Wright--the Comptroller," said Uncle Peabody. + +"It is! Gosh almighty! I ought to have knowed it," said Bill Seaver, his +tone and manner having changed like magic to those of awed respect. "I +see ye in court one day years ago. If I'd knowed 'twas you I wouldn't +'a' swore as I did." The men began laughing and then he added: "Damned +if I would!" + +"It won't hurt me any--the boy is the one," said Mr. Wright as he took +my hand and strolled up the river bank with me. I rather feared and +dreaded those big roaring men like Bill Seaver. + +The horses were hitched in and the canoes washed out. Then we all turned +to and dug some angle-worms. The poles were brought--lines, hooks and +sinkers were made ready and in an hour or so we were on our way up the +river, Mr. Wright and I and Uncle Peabody being in one of the canoes, +the latter working the paddle. + +I remember how, as we went along, Mr. Wright explained the fundamental +theory of his politics. I gave strict attention because of my pride in +the fact that he included me in the illustration of his point. This in +substance is what he said, for I can not pretend to quote his words +with precision although I think they vary little from his own, for here +before me is the composition entitled "The Comptroller," which I wrote +two years later and read at a lyceum in the district schoolhouse. + +"We are a fishing party. There are four of us who have come together +with one purpose--that of catching fish and having a good time. We have +elected Bill guide because he knows the river and the woods and the fish +better than we do. It's Bill's duty to give us the benefit of his +knowledge, and to take us to and from camp and out of the woods at our +pleasure and contribute in all reasonable ways to our comfort. He is the +servant of his party. Now if Bill, having approved our aim and accepted +the job from us, were to try to force a new aim upon the party and +insist that we should all join him in the sport of catching butterflies, +we would soon break up. If we could agree on the butterfly program that +would be one thing, but if we held to our plan and Bill stood out, he +would be a traitor to his party and a fellow of very bad manners. As +long as the aims of my party are, in the main, right, I believe its +commands are sacred. Always in our country the will of the greatest +number ought to prevail--right or wrong. It has a right even to make +mistakes, for through them it should learn wisdom and gradually adjust +itself to the will of its greatest leaders." + +It is remarkable that the great commoner should have made himself +understood by a boy of eight, but in so doing he exemplified the gift +that raised him above all the men I have met--that of throwing light +into dark places so that all could see the truth that was hidden there. + +Now and then we came to noisy water hills slanting far back through +rocky timbered gorges, or little foamy stairways in the river leading up +to higher levels. The men carried the canoes around these places while I +followed gathering wild flowers and watching the red-winged black birds +that flew above us calling hoarsely across the open spaces. Now and +then, a roaring veering cloud of pigeons passed in the upper air. The +breath of the river was sweet with the fragrance of pine and balsam. + +We were going around a bend when we heard the voice of Bill shouting +just above us. He had run the bow of his canoe on a gravel beach just +below a little waterfall and a great trout was flopping and tumbling +about in the grass beside him. + +"Yip!" he shouted as he held up the radiant, struggling fish that +reached from his chin to his belt. "I tell ye boys they're goin' to be +sassy as the devil. Jump out an' go to work here." + +With what emotions I leaped out upon the gravel and watched the +fishing! A new expression came into the faces of the men. Their mouths +opened. There was a curious squint in their eyes. Their hands trembled +as they baited their hooks. The song of the river, tumbling down a rocky +slant, filled the air. I saw the first bite. How the pole bent! How the +line hissed as it went rushing through the water out among the spinning +bubbles! What a splash as the big fish in his coat of many colors broke +through the ripples and rose aloft and fell at my feet throwing a spray +all over me as he came down! That was the way they fished in those days. +They angled with a stout pole of seasoned tamarack and no reel, and +catching a fish was like breaking a colt to halter. + +While he was fishing Mr. Wright slipped off the rock he stood on and +sank shoulder deep in the water. I ran and held out my hand crying +loudly. Uncle Peabody helped him ashore with his pole. Tears were +flowing down my cheeks while I stood sobbing in a kind of juvenile +hysterics. + +"What's the matter?" Uncle Peabody demanded. + +"I was 'fraid--Mr. Wright--was goin' to be drownded," I managed to say. + +The Comptroller shook his arms and came and knelt by my side and kissed +me. + +"God bless the dear boy!" he exclaimed. "It's a long time since any one +cried for me. I love you, Bart." + +When Bill swore after that the Comptroller raised his hand and shook his +head and uttered a protesting hiss. + +We got a dozen trout before we resumed our journey and reached camp soon +after one o'clock very hungry. It was a rude bark lean-to, and we soon +made a roaring fire in front of it. What a dinner we had! the bacon and +the fish fried in its fat and the boiled potatoes and the flapjacks and +maple sugar! All through my long life I have sought in vain for a dinner +like it. I helped with the washing of the dishes and, that done, Bill +made a back for his fire of green beech logs, placed one upon the other +and held in place by stakes driven in the ground. By and by Mr. Wright +asked me if I would like to walk over to Alder Brook with him. + +"The fish are smaller there and I guess you could catch 'em," said he. + +The invitation filled me with joy and we set out together through the +thick woods. The leaves were just come and their vivid, glossy green +sprinkled out in the foliage of the little beeches and the woods smelt +of new things. The trail was overgrown and great trees had fallen into +it and we had to pick our way around them. The Comptroller carried me on +his back over the wet places and we found the brook at last and he +baited my hook while I caught our basket nearly full of little trout. +Coming back we lost the trail and presently the Comptroller stopped and +said: + +"Bart, I'm 'fraid we're going wrong. Let's sit down here and take a look +at the compass." + +He took out his compass and I stood by his knee and watched the +quivering needle. + +"Yes, sir," he went on. "We just turned around up there on the hill and +started for Alder Brook again." + +As we went on he added: "When you're in doubt look at the compass. It +always knows its way." + +"How does it know?" I asked. + +"It couldn't tell ye how and I couldn't. There are lots o' things in the +world that nobody can understand." + +The needle now pointed toward its favorite star. + +"My uncle says that everything and everybody has compasses in 'em to +show 'em the way to go," I remarked thoughtfully. + +"He's right," said the Comptroller. "I'm glad you told me for I'd never +thought of it. Every man has a compass in his heart to tell which way is +right. I shall always remember that, partner." + +He gave me a little hug as we sat together and I wondered what a partner +might be, for the word was new to me. + +"What's partner?" I asked. + +"Somebody you like to have with you." + +Always when we were together after that hour the great man called me +"partner." + +We neared camp in the last light of the day. Mr. Wright stopped to clean +our fish at a little murmuring brook and I ran on ahead for I could hear +the crackling of the camp-fire and the voice of Bill Seaver. I thought +in whispers what I should say to my Uncle Peabody and they were brave +words. I was close upon the rear of the camp when I checked my eager +pace and approached on tiptoe. I was going to surprise and frighten my +uncle and then embrace him. Suddenly my heart stood still, for I heard +him saying words fit only for the tongue of a Dug Draper or a Charley +Boyce--the meanest boy in school--low, wicked words which Uncle Peabody +himself had taught me to fear and despise. My Uncle Peabody! Once I +heard a man telling of a doomful hour in which his fortune won by years +of hard work, broke and vanished like a bubble. The dismay he spoke of +reminded me of my own that day. My Aunt Deel had told me that the devil +used bad words to tempt his victims into a lake of fire where they +sizzled and smoked and yelled forever and felt worse, every minute, than +one sitting on a hot griddle. To save me from such a fate my uncle had +nearly blistered me with his slipper. How was I to save him? I stood +still for a moment of confusion and anxiety, with my hand over my mouth, +while a strange sickness came upon me. A great cold wave had swept in +off the uncharted seas and flooded my little beach, and covered it with +wreckage. What was I to do? I knew that I couldn't punish him. I +couldn't bear to speak to him even, so I turned and walked slowly away. + +My dear, careless old uncle was in great danger. As I think of it now, +what a whited sepulchre he had become in a moment! Had I better consult +Mr. Wright? No. My pride in my uncle and my love for him would not +permit it. I must bear my burden alone until I could tell Aunt Deel. She +would know what to do. Mr. Wright came along and found me sitting in +deep dejection on a bed of vivid, green moss by an old stump at the +trail-side. + +"What ye doing here?" he asked in surprise. + +"Nothing," I answered gravely. + +The Comptroller must have observed the sorrow in my face, for he asked: + +"What's the matter?" + +"Nothing," I lied, and then my conscience caught up with my tongue and I +added: "It's a secret." + +Fearing that my uncle would disgrace himself in the hearing of Mr. +Wright, I said something--I do not remember what, save that it related +to the weather--in a loud voice by way of warning. + +They noticed the downcast look of me when we entered camp. + +"Why, Bub, you look tired," said Uncle Peabody as he gave me that +familiar hug of his. + +I did not greet him with the cheerful warmth which had characterized our +meetings, and seeing the disappointment in his look I kissed him rather +flippantly. + +"Lay down on this old sheep skin and take a nap," said he. "It's warm in +here." + +He spread the sheep skin on the balsam boughs back under the lean-to and +I lay down upon it and felt the glow of the fire and heard the talk of +the men but gave no heed to it. I turned my face away from them and lay +as if asleep, but with a mind suddenly estranged and very busy. + +Now I know what I knew not then, that my soul was breaking camp on the +edge of the world and getting ready to move over the line. Still no +suspicion of the truth reached me that since I came to live with him my +uncle had been bitting and breaking his tongue. It occurred to me that +Bill Seaver, whom I secretly despised, had spoilt him and that I had +done wrong in leaving him all the afternoon defenseless in bad company. + +I wondered if he were beyond hope or if he would have to fry and smoke +and yell forever. But I had hope. My faith in Aunt Deel as a corrector +and punisher was very great. She would know what to do. I heard the men +talking in low voices as they cooked the supper and the frying of the +fish and bacon. It had grown dark. Uncle Peabody came and leaned over me +with a lighted candle and touched my face with his hand. I lay still +with closed eyes. He left me and I heard him say to the others: + +"He's asleep and his cheeks are wet. Looks as if he'd been cryin' all to +himself there. I guess he got too tired." + +Then Mr. Wright said: "Something happened to the boy this afternoon. I +don't know what. I stopped at the brook to clean the fish and he ran on +toward the camp to surprise you. I came along soon and found him sitting +alone by the trail out there. He looked as if he hadn't a friend in the +world. I asked him what was the matter and he said it was a secret." + +"Say, by--" Uncle Peabody paused. "He must a stole up here and heard me +tellin' that--" he paused again and went on: "Say, I wouldn't 'a' had +him hear that for a thousan' dollars. I don't know how to behave myself +when I get in the woods. If you're goin' to travel with a boy like that +you've got to be good all the time--ye can't take no rest or vacation at +all whatever." + +"You've got to be sound through and through or they'll find it out," +said the Comptroller. "You can't fool 'em long." + +"He's got a purty keen edge on him," said Bill Seaver. + +"On the whole I think he's the most interesting child I ever saw," said +Mr. Wright. + +I knew that these words were compliments but their meaning was not quite +clear to me. The words, however, impressed and pleased me deeply and I +recalled them often after that night. I immediately regretted them, for +I was hungry and wanted to get up and eat some supper but had to lie a +while longer now so they would not know that my ears had been open. +Nothing more was said and I lay and listened to the wind in the +tree-tops and the crackling of the fire, and suddenly the day ended. + +I felt the gentle hand of Uncle Peabody on my face and I heard him speak +my name very tenderly. I opened my eyes. The sun was shining. It was a +new day. Bill Seaver had begun to cook the breakfast. I felt better and +ran down to the landing and washed. My uncle's face had a serious look +in it. So had Mr. Wright's. I was happy but dimly conscious of a change. + +I remember how Bill beat the venison steak, which he had brought in his +pack basket, with the head of his ax, adding a strip of bacon and a +pinch of salt, now and then, until the whole was a thick mass of pulp +which he broiled over the hot coals. I remember, too, how delicious it +was. + +We ate and packed and got into the boats and fished along down the +river. At Seaver's we hitched up our team and headed homeward. When we +drove into the dooryard Aunt Deel came and helped me out of the buggy +and kissed my cheek and said she had been "terrible lonesome." Mr. +Wright changed his clothes and hurried away across country with his +share of the fish on his way to Canton. + +"Well, I want to know!--ayes! ain't they beautiful! ayes!" Aunt Deel +exclaimed as Uncle Peabody spread the trout in rows on the wash-stand by +the back door. + +"I've got to tell you something," I said. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +"I heard him say naughty words." + +"What words?" + +"I--I can't say `em. They're wicked. I'm--I'm 'fraid he's goin' to be +burnt up," I stammered. + +"It's so. I said 'em," my uncle confessed. + +Aunt Deel turned to me and said: "Bart, you go right down to the barn +and bring me a strap--ayes!--you bring me a strap--right away." + +I walked slowly toward the barn. For the moment, I was sorry that I had +told on my uncle. Scalding tears began to flow down my cheeks. I sat on +the steps to the hay loft for a moment to collect my thoughts. + +Then I heard Aunt Deel call to me: "Hurry up, Bart." + +I rose and picked out the smallest strap I could find and walked slowly +back to the house. I said, in a trembling voice, as I approached them, +"I--I don't think he meant it." + +"He'll have to be punished--just the same--ayes--he will." + +We went into the house together, I sniffling, but curious to see what +was going to happen. Uncle Peabody, by prearrangement, as I know now, +lay face downward on the sofa, and Aunt Deel began to apply the strap. +It was more than I could bear, and I threw myself between my beloved +friend and the strap and pleaded with loud cries for his forgiveness. + +Uncle Peabody rose and walked out of the house without a word and with a +sterner look in his face than I had ever seen there. I searched for him +as soon as my excitement had passed, but in vain. I went out back of the +cow barn and looked away down across the stumpy flats. Neither he nor +Shep were in sight. All that lonely afternoon I watched for him. The sun +fell warm but my day was dark. Aunt Deel found me in tears sitting on +the steps of the cheese house and got her Indian book out of her trunk +and, after she had cautioned me to be very careful of it, let me sit +down with it by myself alone, and look at the pictures. + +I had looked forward to the time when I could be trusted to sit alone +with the Indian book. In my excitement over the picture of a red man +tomahawking a child I turned a page so swiftly that I put a long tear in +it. My pleasure was gone. I carefully joined the torn edges and closed +the book and put it on the table and ran and hid behind the barn. + +By and by I saw Uncle Peabody coming down the lane with the cows, an ax +on his shoulder. I ran to meet him with a joy in my heart as great as +any I have ever known. He greeted me with a cheerful word and leaned +over me and held me close against his legs and looked into my eyes and +asked: + +"Are you willin' to kiss me?" + +I kissed him and then he said: + +"If ye ever hear me talk like that ag'in, I'll let the stoutest man in +Ballybeen hit me with his ax." + +I was not feeling well and went to bed right after supper. As I was +undressing I heard Aunt Deel exclaim: "My heavens! See what that boy has +done to my Indian book--ayes! Ain't that awful!--ayes!" + +"Pretend ye ain't noticed it," said Uncle Peabody. "He's had trouble +enough for one day." + +A deep silence followed in which I knew that Aunt Deel was probably +wiping tears from her eyes. I went to bed feeling better. + +Next day the stage, on its way to Ballybeen, came to our house and left +a box and a letter from Mr. Wright, addressed to my uncle, which read: + + "DEAR SIR--I send herewith a box of books and magazines in the hope + that you or Miss Baynes will read them aloud to my little partner + and in doing so get some enjoyment and profit for yourselves. + + "Yours respectfully, + S. WRIGHT, JR. + + "P.S.--When the contents of the box has duly risen into your minds, + will you kindly see that it does a like service to your neighbors + in School District No. 7? S.W., JR." + +"I guess Bart has made a friend o' this great man--sartin ayes!" said +Aunt Deel. "I wonder who'll be the next one." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +IN THE LIGHT OF THE CANDLES + + +I remember that I tried to walk and talk like Silas Wright after that +day. He had a way of twisting little locks of his hair between his thumb +and finger when he sat thinking. I practised that trick of his when I +was alone and unobserved. + +One day I was walking up and down, as I had seen Mr. Wright do, and +talking to my friend "Baynes," when Aunt Deel called to me that I should +bring the candle molds from the shed. I was keeper of the molds and +greatly enjoyed the candle-making. First we strung the wicks on slender +wooden rods--split and whittled by Uncle Peabody and me as we sat down +by the stove in the evening. Then the wicks were let down into tin +molds, each of which ended in a little inverted cone with a hole through +its point. We carefully worked the wick ends through these perforations +and drew them tight. When the mold was ready we poured in the melted +tallow, which hardened in a few minutes. Later, by pulling the wooden +rods, we loosened the candles and drew them out of the molds. They were +as smooth and white as polished alabaster. With shears we trimmed the +wick ends. The iron candlesticks were filled and cleaned of drippings +and set on the little corner shelf above the sink. + +When night fell again and the slender white shaft, rising above its base +of iron, was crowned with yellow flame, I can think of nothing more +beautiful in color, shape and symbolism. It was the torch of liberty and +learning in the new world--a light-house on the shore of the great deep. + +The work of the day ended, the candles were grouped near the edge of the +table and my aunt's armchair was placed beside them. Then I sat on Uncle +Peabody's lap by the fire or, as time went on, in my small chair beside +him, while Aunt Deel adjusted her spectacles and began to read. + +At last those of wearied bones and muscles had sat down to look abroad +with the mind's eye. Their reason began to concern itself with problems +beyond the narrow limits of the house and farm; their imaginations took +the wings of the poet and rose above all their humble tasks. + +I recall how, when the candles were lighted, storyteller, statesman, +explorer, poet and preacher came from the far ends of the earth and +poured their souls into ours. It was a dim light--that of the +candles--but even to-day it shines through the long alley of these many +years upon my pathway. I see now what I saw not then in the +candle-light, a race marching out of darkness, ignorance and poverty +with our little party in the caravan. Crowding on, they widened the +narrow way of their stern religion. + +At first we had only _The Horse Farrier, The Cattle Book, The Story of +the Indian Wars_--a book which had been presented to Aunt Deel by her +grandmother, and which in its shroud of white linen lay buried in her +trunk most of the time for fear harm would come to it, as it did, +indeed, when in a moment of generosity she had loaned it to me. The +Bible and the _St. Lawrence Republican_ were always with us. + +Many a night, when a speech of Daniel Webster or Henry Clay or Dewitt +Clinton had pushed me to the edge of unconsciousness, while I resisted +by counting the steel links in the watch chain of Uncle Peabody--my +rosary in every time of trouble--I had been bowled over the brink by +some account of horse colic and its remedy, or of the proper treatment +of hoof disease in sheep. I suffered keenly from the horse colic and +like troubles and from the many hopes and perils of democracy in my +childhood. I found the Bible, however, the most joyless book of all, +Samson being, as I thought, the only man in it who amounted to much. A +shadow lay across its pages which came, I think, from the awful +solemnity of my aunt when she opened them. It reminded me of a dark +rainy day made fearful by thunder and lightning. It was not the cheerful +thing, illumined by the immortal faith of man which, since then, I have +found it to be. The box of books changed the whole current of our lives. + +I remember vividly that evening when we took out the books and tenderly +felt their covers and read their titles. There were _Cruikshanks' Comic +Almanac_ and _Hood's Comic Annual_; tales by Washington Irving and James +K. Paulding and Nathaniel Hawthorne and Miss Mitford and Miss Austin; +the poems of John Milton and Felicia Hemans. Of the treasures in the box +I have now; in my possession: A life of Washington, _The Life and +Writings of Doctor Duckworth_, _The Stolen Child_, by "John Galt, Esq."; +_Rosine Laval_, by "Mr. Smith"; _Sermons and Essays_, by William Ellery +Channing. We found in the box, also, thirty numbers of the _United +States Magazine and Democratic Review_ and sundry copies of the _New +York Mirror_. + +"Ayes! I declare! What do you think o' this, Peabody Baynes!" Aunt Deel +exclaimed as she sat turning the pages of a novel. "Ye know Aunt Minervy +used to say that a novel was a fast horse on the road to +perdition--ayes!" + +"Well she wasn't--" Uncle Peabody began and stopped suddenly. What he +meant to say about her will never be definitely known. In half a moment +he added: + +"I guess if Sue Wright recommends 'em they won't hurt us any." + +"Ayes! I ain't afraid--we'll wade into 'em," she answered recklessly. +"Ayes! we'll see what they're about." + +Aunt Deel began with _The Stolen Child_. She read slowly and often +paused for comment or explanation or laughter or to touch the corner of +an eye with a corner of her handkerchief in moments when we were all +deeply moved by the misfortunes of our favorite characters, which were +acute and numerous. Often she stopped to spell out phrases of French or +Latin, whereupon Uncle Peabody would exclaim: + +"Call it 'snags' and go on." + +The "snags" were numerous in certain of the books we read, in which case +Uncle Peabody would exclaim: + +"Say, that's purty rough plowin'. Mebbe you better move into another +field." + +How often I have heard Aunt Deel reading when the effect was like this: + +"The Duchess exclaimed with an accent which betrayed the fact that she +had been reared in the French Capital: 'Snags!' Whereupon Sir Roger +rejoined in French equally patrician: 'Snags!" + +Those days certain authors felt it necessary to prove that their +education had not been neglected or forgotten. Their way was strewn with +fragments of classic lore intended to awe and mystify the reader, while +evidences of correct religious sentiment were dropped, here and there, +to reassure him. The newspapers and magazines of the time, like certain +of its books, were salted with little advertisements of religion, and +virtue and honesty and thrift. + +In those magazines we read of the great West--"the poor man's +paradise"--"the stoneless land of plenty"; of its delightful climate, of +the ease with which the farmer prospered on its rich soil. Uncle Peabody +spoke playfully of going West, after that, but Aunt Deel made no answer +and concealed her opinion on that subject for a long time. As for +myself, the reading had deepened my interest in east and west and north +and south and in the skies above them. How mysterious and inviting they +had become! + +One evening a neighbor had brought the _Republican_ from the +post-office. I opened it and read aloud these words, in large type at +the top of the page: + + Silas Wright Elected to the U.S. Senate. + +"Well I want to know!" Uncle Peabody exclaimed. "That would make me +forgit it if I was goin' to be hung. Go on and read what it says." + +I read of the choosing of our friend for the seat made vacant by the +resignation of William L. Marcy, who had been elected governor, and the +part which most impressed us were these words from a letter of Mr. +Wright to Azariah Flagg of Albany, written when the former was asked to +accept the place: + + "I am too young and too poor for such an elevation. I have not had + the experience in that great theater of politics to qualify me for + a place so exalted and responsible. I prefer therefore the humbler + position which I now occupy." + +"That's his way," said Uncle Peabody. "They had hard work to convince +him that he knew enough to be Surrogate." + +"Big men have little conceit--ayes!" said Aunt Deel with a significant +glance at me. + +The candles had burned low and I was watching the shroud of one of them +when there came a rap at the door. It was unusual for any one to come to +our door in the evening and we were a bit startled. Uncle Peabody opened +it and old Kate entered without speaking and nodded to my aunt and uncle +and sat down by the fire. Vividly I remembered the day of the +fortune-telling. The same gentle smile lighted her face as she looked at +me. She held up her hand with four fingers spread above it. + +"Ayes," said Aunt Deel, "there are four perils." + +My aunt rose and went into the but'ry while I sat staring at the ragged +old woman. Her hair was white now and partly covered by a worn and faded +bonnet. Forbidding as she was I did not miss the sweetness in her smile +and her blue eyes when she looked at me. Aunt Deel came with a plate of +doughnuts and bread and butter and head cheese and said in a voice full +of pity: + +"Poor ol' Kate--ayes! Here's somethin' for ye--ayes!" + +She turned to, my uncle and said: + +"Peabody Baynes, what'll we do--I'd like to know--ayes! She can't rove +all night." + +"I'll git some blankets an' make a bed for her, good 'nough for anybody, +out in the hired man's room over the shed," said my uncle. + +He brought the lantern--a little tower of perforated tin--and put a +lighted candle inside of it. Then he beckoned to the stranger, who +followed him out of the front door with the plate of food in her hands. + +"Well I declare! It's a long time since she went up this road--ayes!" +said Aunt Deel, yawning as she resumed her chair. + +"Who is ol' Kate?" I asked. + +"Oh, just a poor ol' crazy woman--wanders all 'round--ayes!" + +"What made her crazy?" + +"Oh, I guess somebody misused and deceived her when she was young--ayes! +It's an awful wicked thing to do. Come, Bart--go right up to bed now. +It's high time--ayes!" + +"I want to wait 'til Uncle Peabody comes back," said I. + +"Why?" + +"I--I'm afraid she'll do somethin' to him." + +"Nonsense! Ol' Kate is just as harmless as a kitten. You take your +candle and go right up to bed--this minute--ayes!" + +I went up-stairs with the candle and undressed very slowly and +thoughtfully while I listened for the footsteps of my uncle. I did not +get into bed until I heard him come in and blow out his lantern and +start up the stairway. As he undressed he told me how for many years the +strange woman had been roving in the roads "up hill and down dale, +thousands an' thousands o' miles," and never reaching the end of her +journey. + +In a moment we heard a low wail above the sound of the breeze that shook +the leaves of the old "popple" tree above our roof. + +"What's that?" I whispered. + +"I guess it's ol' Kate ravin'," said Uncle Peabody. + +It touched my heart and I lay listening for a time but heard only the +loud whisper of the popple leaves. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE GREAT STRANGER + + +Some strangers came along the road those days--hunters, peddlers and the +like--and their coming filled me with a joy which mostly went away with +them, I regret to say. None of these, however, appealed to my +imagination as did old Kate. But there was one stranger greater than +she--greater, indeed, than any other who came into Rattleroad. He came +rarely and would not be long detained. How curiously we looked at him, +knowing his fame and power! This great stranger was Money. + +I shall never forget the day that my uncle showed me a dollar bill and a +little shiny, gold coin and three pieces of silver, nor can I forget how +carefully he watched them while they lay in my hands and presently put +them back into his wallet. That was long before the time of which I am +writing. I remember hearing him say, one day of that year, when I asked +him to take us to the Caravan of Wild Beasts which was coming to the +village: + +"I'm sorry, but it's been a hundred Sundays since I had a dollar in my +wallet for more than ten minutes." + +I have his old account book for the years of 1837 and 1838. Here are +some of the entries: + + "Balanced accounts with J. Dorothy and gave him my note for $2.15, + to be paid in salts January 1, 1838. Sold ten bushels of wheat to + E. Miner at 90 cents, to be paid in goods. + + "Sold two sheep to Flavius Curtis and took his note for $6, payable + in boots on or before March the first." + +Only one entry in more than a hundred mentions money, and this was the +sum of eleven cents received in balance from a neighbor. + +So it will be seen that a spirit of mutual accommodation served to help +us over the rough going. Mr. Grimshaw, however, demanded his pay in cash +and that I find was, mainly, the habit of the money-lenders. + +We were poor but our poverty was not like that of these days in which I +am writing. It was proud and cleanly and well-fed. We had in us the best +blood of the Puritans. Our fathers had seen heroic service in the wars +and we knew it. + +There were no farmer-folk who thought more of the virtue of cleanliness. +On this subject my aunt was a deep and tireless thinker. She kept a +watchful eye upon us. In her view men-folks were like floors, furniture +and dishes. They were in the nature of a responsibility--a tax upon +women as it were. Every day she reminded me of the duty of keeping my +body clean. Its members had often suffered the tyranny of the soaped +hand at the side of the rain barrel. I suppose that all the waters of +this world have gone up in the sky and come down again since those far +days, but even now the thought of my aunt brings back the odor of soft +soap and rain barrels. + +She did her best, also, to keep our minds in a cleanly state of +preservation--a work in which the teacher rendered important service. He +was a young man from Canton. + +One day when I had been kept after hours for swearing in a fight and +then denying it, he told me that there was no reason why I shouldn't be +a great man if I stuck to my books and kept my heart clean. I heard with +alarm that there was another part of me to be kept clean. How was it to +be done? + +"Well, just make up your mind that you'll never lie, whatever else you +do," he said. "You can't do anything bad or mean unless you intend to +cover it up with lies." + +What a simple rule was this of the teacher!--and yet--well the very next +thing he said was: + +"Where did you hear all that swearing?" + +How could I answer his question truthfully? I was old enough to know +that the truth would disgrace my Uncle Peabody. I could not tell the +truth, therefore, and I didn't. I put it all on Dug Draper, although his +swearing had long been a dim, indefinite and useless memory. + +As a penalty I had to copy two maxims of Washington five times in my +writing-book. In doing so I put them on the wall of my memory where I +have seen them every day of my life and from which I read as I write. + + "Speak no evil of the absent for it is unjust." + + "Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial + fire called conscience." + +The boys in the school were a sturdy big-boned lot with arms and legs +like the springing bow. Full-lunged, great-throated fellows, they grew +to be, calling the sheep and cattle in the land of far-reaching +pastures. There was an undersized boy three years older who often picked +on me and with whom I would have no peaceful commerce. + +I copy from an old memorandum book a statement of my daily routine just +as I put it down one of those days: + + "My hardest choar is to get up after uncle calls me. I scramble + down stairs and pick up my boots and socks and put them on. Then I + go into the setting room and put on my jacket. I get some brand + for the sheep. Then I put on my cap and mittens and go out and feed + the sheep. Then I get my breakfast. Then I put on my frock, cap, + mittens and fetch in my wood. Then I feed the horses their oats. + Then I lay away my old clothes until night. I put on my best coat + and mittens and tippet and start for school. By the time I get to + Joe's my toes are cold and I stop and warm them. When I get to + school I warm me at the stove. Then I go to my seat and study my + reader, then I take out my arithmetic, then my spelling book, then + comes the hardest study that ever landed on Plymouth Rock. It is + called geography. After the spelling lesson comes noon. The teacher + plays with me cos the other boys are so big. I am glad when I go + home. Then I do my choars again, and hear my aunt read until + bedtime." + +There were girls in the school, but none like Sally. They whispered +together with shy glances in our direction, as if they knew funny +secrets about us, and would then break into noisy jeers. They did not +interest me, and probably because I had seen the lightness and grace and +beauty of Sally Dunkelberg and tasted the sweetness of her fancies. + +There were the singing and spelling schools and the lyceums, but those +nights were few and far between. Not more than four or five in the whole +winter were we out of the joyful candle-light of our own home. Even then +our hands were busy making lighters or splint brooms, or paring and +quartering and stringing the apples or cracking butternuts while Aunt +Deel read. + +After the sheep came we kept only two cows. The absence of cattle was a +help to the general problem of cleanliness. The sheep were out in the +fields and I kept away from them for fear the rams would butt me. I +remember little of the sheep save the washing and shearing and the lambs +which Uncle Peabody brought to our fireside to be warmed on cold +mornings of the early spring. I remember asking where the lambs came +from when I was a small boy, and that Uncle Peabody said they came from +"over the river"--a place regarding which his merry ignorance provoked +me. In the spring they were driven to the deep hole and dragged, one by +one, into the cold water to have their fleeces washed. When the weather +had warmed men came to shear them and their oily white fleeces were +clipped close to the skin and each taken off in one piece like a coat +and rolled up and put on the wool pile. + +I was twelve years old when I began to be the reader for our little +family. Aunt Deel had long complained that she couldn't keep up with her +knitting and read so much. We had not seen Mr. Wright for nearly two +years, but he had sent us the novels of Sir Walter Scott and I had led +them heart deep into the creed battles of Old Mortality. + +Then came the evil days of 1837, when the story of our lives began to +quicken its pace and excite our interest in its coming chapters. It gave +us enough to think of, God knows. + +Wild speculations in land and the American paper-money system had +brought us into rough going. The banks of the city of New York had +suspended payment of their notes. They could no longer meet their +engagements. As usual, the burden fell heaviest on the poor. It was hard +to get money even for black salts. + +Uncle Peabody had been silent and depressed for a month or more. He had +signed a note for Rodney Barnes, a cousin, long before and was afraid +that he would have to pay it. I didn't know what a note was and I +remember that one night, when I lay thinking about it, I decided that it +must be something in the nature of horse colic. My uncle told me that a +note was a trouble which attacked the brain instead of the stomach. I +was with Uncle Peabody so much that I shared his feeling but never +ventured to speak of it or its cause. He didn't like to be talked to +when he felt badly. At such times he used to say that he had the brain +colic. He told me that notes had an effect on the brain like that of +green apples on the stomach. + +One autumn day in Canton Uncle Peabody traded three sheep and twenty +bushels of wheat for a cook stove and brought it home in the big wagon. +Rodney Barnes came with him to help set up the stove. He was a big giant +of a man with the longest nose in the township. I had often wondered how +any one would solve the problem of kissing Mr. Barnes in the immediate +region of his nose, the same being in the nature of a defense. + +I remember that I regarded it with a kind of awe because I had been +forbidden to speak of it. The command invested Mr. Barnes' nose with a +kind of sanctity. Indeed it became one of the treasures of my +imagination. + +That evening I was chiefly interested in the stove. What a joy it was to +me with its damper and griddles and high oven and the shiny edge on its +hearth! It rivaled, in its novelty and charm, any tin peddler's cart +that ever came to our door. John Axtell and his wife, who had seen it +pass their house, hurried over for a look at it. Every hand was on the +stove as we tenderly carried it into the house, piece by piece, and set +it up. Then they cut a hole in the upper floor and the stone chimney and +fitted the pipe. How keenly we watched the building of the fire! How +quickly it roared and began to heat the room! + +When the Axtells had gone away Aunt Deel said: + +"It's grand! It is sartin--but I'm 'fraid we can't afford it--ayes I +be!" + +"We can't afford to freeze any longer. I made up my mind that we +couldn't go through another winter as we have," was my uncle's answer. + +"How much did it cost?" she asked. + +"Not much differ'nt from thirty-four dollars in sheep and grain," he +answered. + +Rodney Barnes stayed to supper and spent a part of the evening with us. + +Like other settlers there, Mr. Barnes was a cheerful optimist. +Everything looked good to him until it turned out badly. He stood over +the stove with a stick of wood and made gestures with it as he told how +he had come from Vermont with a team and a pair of oxen and some bedding +and furniture and seven hundred dollars in money. He flung the stick of +wood into the box with a loud thump as he told how he had bought his +farm of Benjamin Grimshaw at a price which doubled its value. True it +was the price which other men had paid in the neighborhood, but they had +all paid too much. Grimshaw had established the price and called it +fair. He had taken Mr. Barnes to two or three of the settlers on the +hills above Lickitysplit. + +"Tell this man what you think about the kind o' land we got here," +Grimshaw had demanded. + +The tenant recommended it. He had to. They were all afraid of Grimshaw. +Mr. Barnes picked up a flat iron and felt its bottom and waved it in the +air as he alleged that it was a rocky, stumpy, rooty, God-forsaken +region far from church or market or school on a rough road almost +impassable for a third of the year. Desperate economy and hard work had +kept his nose to the grindstone but, thank God, he had nose enough left. + +Now and then Grimshaw (and others like him) loaned money to people, but +he always had some worthless hay or a broken-down horse which you had to +buy before you could get the money. + +Mr. Barnes put down the flat iron and picked up the poker and tried its +strength on his knee as he told how he had heard that it was a growing +country near the great water highway of the St. Lawrence. Prosperous +towns were building up in it. There were going to be great cities in +Northern New York. What they called a railroad was coming. There were +rich stores of lead and iron in the rocks. Mr. Barnes had bought two +hundred acres at ten dollars an acre. He had to pay a fee of five per +cent. to Grimshaw's lawyer for the survey and the papers. This left him +owing fourteen hundred dollars on his farm--much more than it was worth. +One hundred acres of the land had been roughly cleared by Grimshaw and a +former tenant. The latter had toiled and struggled and paid tribute and +given up. + +Our cousin twisted the poker in his great hands until it squeaked as he +stood before my uncle and said: + +"My wife and I have chopped and burnt and pried and hauled rocks an' +shoveled dung an' milked an' churned until we are worn out. For almost +twenty years we've been workin' days an' nights an' Sundays. My mortgage +was over-due, I owed six hundred dollars on it. I thought it all over +one day an' went up to Grimshaw's an' took him by the back of the neck +and shook him. He said he would drive me out o' the country. He gave me +six months to pay up. I had to pay or lose the land. I got the money on +the note that you signed over in Potsdam. Nobody in Canton would 'a' +dared to lend it to me." + +The poker broke and he threw the pieces under the stove. + +"Why?" my uncle asked. + +Mr. Barnes got hold of another stick of wood and went on. + +"'Fraid o' Grimshaw. He didn't want me to be able to pay it. The place +is worth more than six hundred dollars now--that's the reason. I +intended to cut some timber an' haul it to the village this winter so I +could pay a part o' the note an' git more time as I told ye, but the +roads have been so bad I couldn't do any haulin'." + +My uncle went and took a drink at the water pail. I saw by his face that +he was unusually wrought up. + +"My heavens an' earth!" he exclaimed as he sat down again. + +"It's the brain colic," I said to myself as I looked at him. + +Mr. Barnes seemed to have it also. + +"Too much note," I whispered. + +"I'm awful sorry, but I've done everything I could," said Mr. Barnes. + +"Ain't there somebody that'll take another mortgage?--it ought to be +safe now," my uncle suggested. + +"Money is so tight it can't be done. The bank has got all the money an' +Grimshaw owns the bank. I've tried and tried, but I'll make you safe. +I'll give you a mortgage until I can turn 'round." + +So I saw how Rodney Barnes, like other settlers in Lickitysplit, had +gone into bondage to the landlord. + +"How much do you owe on this place?" Barnes asked. + +"Seven hundred an' fifty dollars," said my uncle. + +"Is it due?" + +"It's been due a year an' if I have to pay that note I'll be short my +interest." + +"God o' Israel! I'm scairt," said Barnes. + +Down crashed the stick of wood into the box. + +"What about?" + +Mr. Barnes tackled a nail that stuck out of the woodwork and tried to +pull it between his thumb and finger while I watched the process with +growing interest. + +"It would be like him to put the screws on you now," he grunted, pulling +at the nail. "You've got between him an' his prey. You've taken the +mouse away from the cat." + +I remember the little panic that fell on us then. I could see tears in +the eyes of Aunt Deel as she sat with her head leaning wearily on her +hand. + +"If he does I'll do all I can," said Barnes, "whatever I've got will be +yours." + +The nail came out of the wall. + +"I had enough saved to pay off the mortgage," my uncle answered. "I +suppose it'll have to go for the note." + +Mr. Barnes' head was up among the dried apples on the ceiling. A +movement of his hand broke a string of them. Then he dropped his huge +bulk into a chair which crashed to the floor beneath him. He rose +blushing and said: + +"I guess I better go or I'll break everything you've got here. I kind o' +feel that way." + +Rodney Barnes left us. + +I remember how Uncle Peabody stood in the middle of the floor and +whistled the merriest tune he knew. + +"Stand right up here," he called in his most cheerful tone. "Stand +right up here before me, both o' ye." + +I got Aunt Deel by the hand and led her toward my uncle. We stood facing +him. "Stand straighter," he demanded. "Now, altogether. One, two, three, +ready, sing." + +He beat time with his hand in imitation of the singing master at the +schoolhouse and we joined him in singing an old tune which began: "O +keep my heart from sadness, God." + +This irresistible spirit of the man bridged a bad hour and got us off to +bed in fairly good condition. + +A few days later the note came due and its owner insisted upon full +payment. There was such a clamor for money those days! I remember that +my aunt had sixty dollars which she had saved, little by little, by +selling eggs and chickens. She had planned to use it to buy a tombstone +for her mother and father--a long-cherished ambition. My uncle needed +the most of it to help pay the note. We drove to Potsdam on that sad +errand and what a time we had getting there and back in deep mud and +sand and jolting over corduroys! + +"Bart," my uncle said the next evening, as I took down the book to read. +"I guess we'd better talk things over a little to-night. These are hard +times. If we can find anybody with money enough to buy 'em I dunno but +we better sell the sheep." + +"If you hadn't been a fool," my aunt exclaimed with a look of great +distress--"ayes! if you hadn't been a fool." + +"I'm just what I be an' I ain't so big a fool that I need to be reminded +of it," said my uncle. + +"I'll stay at home an' work," I proposed bravely. + +"You ain't old enough for that," sighed Aunt Deel. + +"I want to keep you in school," said Uncle Peabody, who sat making a +splint broom. + +While we were talking in walked Benjamin Grimshaw--the rich man of the +hills. He didn't stop to knock but walked right in as if the house were +his own. It was common gossip that he held a mortgage on every acre of +the countryside. I had never liked him, for he was a stern-eyed man who +was always scolding somebody, and I had not forgotten what his son had +said of him. + +"Good night!" he exclaimed curtly, as he sat down and set his cane +between his feet and rested his hands upon it. He spoke hoarsely and I +remember the curious notion came to me that he looked like our old ram. +The stern and rugged face of Mr. Grimshaw and the rusty gray of his +homespun and the hoarseness of his tone had suggested this thought to +me. The long silvered tufts above his keen, gray eyes moved a little as +he looked at my uncle. There were deep lines upon his cheeks and chin +and forehead. He wore a thin, gray beard under his chin. His mouth was +shut tight in a long line curving downward a little at the ends. My +uncle used to say that his mouth was made to keep his thoughts from +leaking and going to waste. He had a big body, a big chin, a big mouth, +a big nose and big ears and hands. His eyes lay small in this setting of +bigness. + +"Why, Mr. Grimshaw, it's years since you've been in our house--ayes!" +said Aunt Deel. + +"I suppose it is," he answered rather sharply. "I don't have much time +to get around. I have to work. There's some people seem to be able to +git along without it." + +He drew in his breath quickly and with a hissing sound after every +sentence. + +"How are your folks?" my aunt asked. + +"So's to eat their allowance--there's never any trouble about that," +said Mr. Grimshaw. "I see you've got one o' these newfangled stoves," he +added as he looked it over. "Huh! Rich folks can have anything they +want." + +Uncle Peabody had sat splintering the long stick of yellow birch. I +observed that the jackknife trembled in his hand. His tone had a touch +of unnaturalness, proceeding no doubt from his fear of the man before +him, as he said: + +"When I bought that stove I felt richer than I do now. I had almost +enough to settle with you up to date, but I signed a note for a friend +and had to pay it." + +"Ayuh! I suppose so," Grimshaw answered in a tone of bitter irony which +cut me like a knife-blade, young as I was. "What business have you +signin' notes an' givin' away money which ain't yours to give--I'd like +to know? What business have you actin' like a rich man when you can't +pay yer honest debts? I'd like to know that, too?" + +"If I've ever acted like a rich man it's been when I wa'n't lookin'," +said Uncle Peabody. + +"What business have you got enlargin' yer family--takin' another mouth +to feed and another body to spin for? That costs money. I ain't no +objection if a man can afford it, but the money it costs ain't yours to +give. It looks as if it belonged to me. You spend yer nights readin' +books when ye ought to be to work an' you've scattered that kind o' +foolishness all over the neighborhood. I want to tell you one thing, +Baynes, you've got to pay up or git out o' here." + +He raised his cane and shook it in the air as he spoke. + +"Oh, I ain't no doubt o' that," said Uncle Peabody. "You'll have to have +yer money--that's sure; an' you will have it if I live, every cent of +it. This boy is goin' to be a great help to me--you don't know what a +good boy he is and what a comfort he's been to us!" + +I had understood that reference to me in Mr. Grimshaw's complaint and +these words of my beloved uncle uncovered my emotions so that I put my +elbow on the wood-box and leaned my head upon it and sobbed. + +"I tell ye I'd rather have that boy than all the money you've got, Mr. +Grimshaw," Uncle Peabody added. + +My aunt came and patted my shoulder and said: "Sh--sh--sh! Don't you +care, Bart! You're just the same as if you was our own boy--ayes!--you +be." + +"I ain't goin' to be hard on ye, Baynes," said Mr. Grimshaw as he rose +from his chair; "I'll give ye three months to see what you can do. I +wouldn't wonder if the boy would turn out all right. He's big an' cordy +of his age an' a purty likely boy they tell me. He'd 'a' been all right +at the county house until he was old enough to earn his livin', but you +was too proud for that--wasn't ye? I don't mind pride unless it keeps a +man from payin' his honest debts. You ought to have better sense." + +"An' you ought to keep yer breath to cool yer porridge," said Uncle +Peabody. + +Mr. Grimshaw opened the door and stood for a moment looking at us and +added in a milder tone: "You've got one o' the best farms in this town +an' if ye work hard an' use common sense ye ought to be out o' debt in +five years--mebbe less." + +He closed the door and went away. + +Neither of us moved or spoke as we listened to his footsteps on the +gravel path that went down to the road and to the sound of his buggy as +he drove away. Then Uncle Peabody broke the silence by saying: + +"He's the dam'dest--" + +He stopped, set the half-splintered stick aside, closed his jackknife +and went to the water-pail to cool his emotions with a drink. + +Aunt Deel took up the subject where he had dropped it, as if no +half-expressed sentiment would satisfy her, saying: + +"--old skinflint that ever lived in this world, ayes! I ain't goin' to +hold down my opinion o' that man no longer, ayes! I can't. It's too +powerful--ayes!" + +Having recovered my composure I repeated that I should like to give up +school and stay at home and work. + +Aunt Deel interrupted me by saying: + +"I have an idee that Sile Wright will help us--ayes! He's comin' home +an' you better go down an' see him--ayes! Hadn't ye?" + +"Bart an' I'll go down to-morrer," said Uncle Peabody. + +I remember well our silent going to bed that night and how I lay +thinking and praying that I might grow fast and soon be able to take the +test of manhood--that of standing in a half-bushel measure and +shouldering two bushels of corn. By and by a wind began to shake the +popple leaves above us and the sound soothed me like the whispered +"hush-sh" of a gentle mother. + +We dressed with unusual care in the morning. After the chores were done +and we had had our breakfast we went up-stairs to get ready. + +Aunt Deel called at the bottom of the stairs in a generous tone: + +"Peabody, if I was you I'd put on them butternut trousers--ayes! an' yer +new shirt an' hat an' necktie, but you must be awful careful of +'em--ayes." + +The hat and shirt and necktie had been stored in the clothes press for +more than a year but they were nevertheless "new" to Aunt Deel. Poor +soul! She felt the importance of the day and its duties. It was that +ancient, Yankee dread of the poorhouse that filled her heart I suppose. +Yet I wonder, often, why she wished us to be so proudly adorned for such +a crisis. + +Some fourteen months before that day my uncle had taken me to Potsdam +and traded grain and salts for what he called a "rip roarin' fine suit +o' clothes" with boots and cap and shirt and collar and necktie to +match, I having earned them by sawing and cording wood at three +shillings a cord. How often we looked back to those better days! The +clothes had been too big for me and I had had to wait until my growth +had taken up the "slack" in my coat and trousers before I could venture +out of the neighborhood. I had tried them on every week or so for a long +time. Now my stature filled them handsomely and they filled me with a +pride and satisfaction which I had never known before. The collar was +too tight, so that Aunt Deel had to sew one end of it to the neckband, +but my tie covered the sewing. + +Since that dreadful day of the petticoat trousers my wonder had been +regarding all integuments, what Sally Dunkelberg would say to them. At +last I could start for Canton with a strong and capable feeling. If I +chanced to meet Sally Dunkelberg I need not hide my head for shame as I +had done that memorable Sunday. + +"Now may the Lord help ye to be careful--awful, terrible careful o' them +clothes every minute o' this day," Aunt Deel cautioned as she looked at +me. "Don't git no horse sweat nor wagon grease on 'em." + +To Aunt Deel wagon grease was the worst enemy of a happy and respectable +home. + +We hitched our team to the grasshopper spring wagon and set out on our +journey. It was a warm, hazy Indian-summer day in November. My uncle +looked very stiff and sober in his "new" clothes. Such breathless +excitement as that I felt when we were riding down the hills and could +see the distant spires of Canton, I have never known since that day. As +we passed "the mill" we saw the Silent Woman looking out of the little +window of her room above the blacksmith shop--a low, weather-stained, +frame building, hard by the main road, with a narrow hanging stair on +the side of it. + +"She keeps watch by the winder when she ain't travelin'," said Uncle +Peabody. "Knows all that's goin' on--that woman--knows who goes to the +village an' how long they stay. When Grimshaw goes by they say she +hustles off down the road in her rags. She looks like a sick dog +herself, but I've heard that she keeps that room o' hers just as neat as +a pin." + +Near the village we passed a smart-looking buggy drawn by a spry-footed +horse in shiny harness. Then I noticed with a pang that our wagon was +covered with dry mud and that our horses were rather bony and our +harnesses a kind of lead color. So I was in an humble state of mind when +we entered the village. Uncle Peabody had had little to say and I had +kept still knowing that he sat in the shadow of a great problem. + +There was a crowd of men and women in front of Mr. Wright's office and +through its open door I saw many of his fellow townsmen. We waited at +the door for a few minutes. I crowded in while Uncle Peabody stood +talking with a villager. The Senator caught sight of me and came to my +side and put his hand on my head and said: + +"Hello, Bart! How you've grown! and how handsome you look! Where's your +uncle?" + +"He's there by the door," I answered. + +"Well, le's go and see him." + +Then I followed him out of the office. + +Mr. Wright was stouter and grayer and grander than when I had seen him +last. He was dressed in black broadcloth and wore a big beaver hat and +high collar and his hair was almost white. I remember vividly his clear, +kindly, gray eyes and ruddy cheeks. + +"Baynes, I'm glad to see you," he said heartily. "Did ye bring me any +jerked meat?" + +"Didn't think of it," said Uncle Peabody. "But I've got a nice young doe +all jerked an' if you're fond o' jerk I'll bring ye down some +to-morrer." + +"I'd like to take some to Washington but I wouldn't have you bring it so +far." + +"I'd like to bring it--I want a chance to talk with ye for half an hour +or such a matter," said my uncle. "I've got a little trouble on my +hands." + +"There's a lot of trouble here," said the Senator. "I've got to settle a +quarrel between two neighbors and visit a sick friend and make a short +address to the Northern New York Conference at the Methodist Church and +look over a piece of land that I'm intending to buy, and discuss the +plans for my new house with the carpenter. I expect to get through about +six o'clock and right after supper I could ride up to your place with +you and walk back early in the morning. We could talk things over on the +way up." + +"That's first rate," said my uncle. "The chores ain't much these days +an' I guess my sister can git along with 'em." + +The Senator took us into his office and introduced us to the leading men +of the county. There were: Minot Jenison, Gurdon Smith, Ephraim +Butterfield, Lemuel Buck, Baron S. Doty, Richard N. Harrison, John L. +Russell, Silas Baldwin, Calvin Hurlbut, Doctor Olin, Thomas H. Conkey +and Preston King. These were names with which, the _Republican_ had +already made us familiar. + +"Here," said the Senator as he put his hand on my head, "is a coming man +in the Democratic party." + +The great men laughed at my blushes and we came away with a deep sense +of pride in us. At last I felt equal to the ordeal of meeting the +Dunkelbergs. My uncle must have shared my feeling for, to my delight, he +went straight to the basement store above which was the modest sign: "H. +Dunkelberg, Produce." I trembled as we walked down the steps and opened +the door. I saw the big gold watch chain, the handsome clothes, the +mustache and side whiskers and the large silver ring approaching us, +but I was not as scared as I expected to be. My eyes were more +accustomed to splendor. + +"Well I swan!" said the merchant in the treble voice which I remembered +so well. "This is Bart and Peabody! How are you?" + +"Pretty well," I answered, my uncle being too slow of speech to suit my +sense of propriety. "How is Sally?" + +The two men laughed heartily much to my embarrassment. + +"He's getting right down to business," said my uncle. + +"That's right," said Mr. Dunkelberg. "Why, Bart, she's spry as a cricket +and pretty as a picture. Come up to dinner with me and see for +yourself." + +Uncle Peabody hesitated, whereupon I gave him a furtive nod and he said +"All right," and then I had a delicious feeling of excitement. I had +hard work to control my impatience while they talked. I walked on some +butter tubs in the back room and spun around on a whirling stool that +stood in front of a high desk and succeeded in the difficult feat of +tipping over a bottle of ink without getting any on myself. I covered +the multitude of my sins on the desk with a newspaper and sat down +quietly in a chair. + +By and by I asked, "Are you 'most ready to go?" + +"Yes--come on--it's after twelve o'clock," said Mr. Dunkelberg. "Sally +will be back from school now." + +My conscience got the better of me and I confessed about the ink bottle +and was forgiven. + +So we walked to the big house of the Dunkelbergs and I could hear my +heart beating when we turned in at the gate--the golden gate of my youth +it must have been, for after I had passed it I thought no more as a +child. That rude push which Mr. Grimshaw gave me had hurried the +passing. + +I was a little surprised at my own dignity when Sally opened the door to +welcome us. My uncle told Aunt Deel that I acted and spoke like Silas +Wright, "so nice and proper." Sally was different, too--less playful and +more beautiful with long yellow curls covering her shoulders. + +"How nice you look!" she said as she took my arm and led me into her +playroom. + +"These are my new clothes," I boasted. "They are very expensive and I +have to be careful of them." + +I remember not much that we said or did but I could never forget how she +played for me on a great shiny piano--I had never seen one before--and +made me feel very humble with music more to my liking than any I have +heard since--crude and simple as it was--while her pretty fingers ran up +and down the keyboard. + +O magic ear of youth! I wonder how it would sound to me now--the +rollicking lilt of _Barney Leave the Girls Alone_--even if a sweet maid +flung its banter at me with flashing fingers and well-fashioned lips. + +I behaved myself with great care at the table--I remember that--and, +after dinner, we played in the dooryard and the stable, I with a great +fear of tearing my new clothes. I stopped and cautioned her more than +once: "Be careful! For gracious sake! be careful o' my new suit!" + +As we were leaving late in the afternoon she said: + +"I wish you would come here to school." + +"I suppose he will sometime," said Uncle Peabody. + +A new hope entered my breast, that moment, and began to grow there. + +"Aren't you going to kiss her?" said Mr. Dunkelberg with a smile. + +I saw the color in her cheeks deepen as she turned with a smile and +walked away two or three steps while the grown people laughed, and stood +with her back turned looking in at the window. + +"You're looking the wrong way for the scenery," said Mr. Dunkelberg. + +She turned and walked toward me with a look Of resolution in her pretty +face and said: + +"I'm not afraid of him." + +We kissed each other and, again, that well-remembered touch of her hair +upon my face! But the feel of her warm lips upon my own--that was so +different and so sweet to remember in the lonely days that followed! +Fast flows the river to the sea when youth is sailing on it. They had +shoved me out of the quiet cove into the swift current--those dear, +kindly, thoughtless people! Sally ran away into the house as their +laughter continued and my uncle and I walked down the street. How happy +I was! + +We went to the Methodist Church where Mr. Wright was speaking but we +couldn't get in. There were many standing at the door who had come too +late. We could hear his voice and I remember that he seemed to be +talking to the people just as I had heard him talk to my aunt and uncle, +sitting by our fireside, only louder. We were tired and went down to the +tavern and waited for him on its great porch. We passed a number of boys +playing three-old-cat in the school yard. How I longed to be among them! + +I observed with satisfaction that the village boys did not make fun of +me when I passed them as they did when I wore the petticoat trousers. +Mr. and Mrs. Wright came along with the crowd, by and by, and Colonel +Medad Moody. We had supper with them at the tavern and started away in +the dark with the Senator on the seat with us. He and my uncle began to +talk about the tightness of money and the banking laws and I remember a +remark of my uncle, for there was that in his tone which I could never +forget: + +"We poor people are trusting you to look out for us--we poor people are +trusting you to see that we get treated fair. We're havin' a hard time." + +This touched me a little and I was keen to hear the Senator's answer. I +remember so well the sacred spirit of democracy in his words. Long +afterward I asked him to refresh my memory of them and so I am able to +quote him as he would wish. + +"I know it," he answered. "I lie awake nights thinking about it. I am +poor myself, almost as poor as my father before me. I have found it +difficult to keep my poverty these late years but I have not failed. I'm +about as poor as you are, I guess. I could enjoy riches, but I want to +be poor so I may not forget what is due to the people among whom I was +born--you who live in small houses and rack your bones with toil. I am +one of you, although I am racking my brain instead of my bones in our +common interest. There are so many who would crowd us down we must stand +together and be watchful or we shall be reduced to an overburdened, +slavish peasantry, pitied and despised. Our danger will increase as +wealth accumulates and the cities grow. I am for the average man--like +myself. They've lifted me out of the crowd to an elevation which I do +not deserve. I have more reputation than I dare promise to keep. It +frightens me. I am like a child clinging to its father's hand in a place +of peril. So I cling to the crowd. It is my father. I know its needs and +wrongs and troubles. I had other things to do to-night. There were +people who wished to discuss their political plans and ambitions with +me. But I thought I would rather go with you and learn about your +troubles. What are they?" + +My uncle told him about the note and the visit of Mr. Grimshaw and of +his threats and upbraidings. + +"Did he say that in Bart's hearing?" asked the Senator. + +"Ayes!--right out plain." + +"Too bad! I'm going to tell you frankly, Baynes, that the best thing I +know about you is your conduct toward this boy. I like it. The next best +thing is the fact that you signed the note. It was bad business but it +was good Christian conduct to help your friend. Don't regret it. You +were poor and of an age when the boy's pranks were troublesome to both +of you, but you took him in. I'll lend you the interest and try to get +another holder for the mortgage on one condition. You must let me attend +to Bart's schooling. I want to be the boss about that. We have a great +schoolmaster in Canton and when Bart is a little older I want him to go +there to school. I'll try to find him a place where he can work for his +board." + +"We'll miss Bart but we'll be tickled to death--there's no two ways +about that," said Uncle Peabody. + +I had been getting sleepy, but this woke me up. I no longer heard the +monotonous creak of harness and whiffletrees and the rumble of wheels; I +saw no longer the stars and the darkness of the night. My mind had +scampered off into the future. I was playing with Sally or with the boys +in the school yard. + +The Senator tested my arithmetic and grammar and geography as we rode +along in the darkness and said by and by: + +"You'll have to work hard, Bart. You'll have to take your book into the +field as I did. After every row of corn I learned a rule of syntax or +arithmetic or a fact in geography while I rested, and my thought and +memory took hold of it as I plied the hoe. I don't want you to stop the +reading, but from now on you must spend half of every evening on your +lessons." + +We got home at half past eight and found my aunt greatly worried. She +had done the chores and been standing in her hood and shawl on the porch +listening for the sound of the wagon. She had kept our suppers warm but +I was the only hungry one. + +As I was going to bed the Senator called me to him and said: + +"I shall be gone when you are up in the morning. It may be a long time +before I see you; I shall leave something for you in a sealed envelope +with your name on it. You are not to open the envelope until you go away +to school. I know how you will feel that first day. When night falls you +will think of your aunt and uncle and be very lonely. When you go to +your room for the night I want you to sit down all by yourself and open +the envelope and read what I shall write. They will be, I think, the +most impressive words ever written. You will think them over but you +will not understand them for a long time. Ask every wise man you meet to +explain them to you, for all your happiness will depend upon your +understanding of these few words in the envelope." + +In the morning Aunt Deel put it in my hands. + +"I wonder what in the world he wrote there--ayes!" said she. "We must +keep it careful--ayes!--I'll put it in my trunk an' give it to ye when +ye go to Canton to school." + +"Has Mr. Wright gone?" I asked rather sadly. + +"Ayes! Land o' mercy! He went away long before daylight with a lot o' +jerked meat in a pack basket--ayes! Yer uncle is goin' down to the +village to see 'bout the mortgage this afternoon, ayes!" + +It was a Saturday and I spent its hours cording wood in the shed, +pausing now and then for a look into my grammar. It was a happy day, for +the growing cords expressed in a satisfactory manner my new sense of +obligation to those I loved. Imaginary conversations came into my brain +as I worked and were rehearsed in whispers. + +"Why, Bart, you're a grand worker," my uncle would say in my fancy. +"You're as good as a hired man." + +"Oh, that's nothing," I would answer modestly. "I want to be useful so +you won't be sorry you took me and I'm going to study just as Mr. Wright +did and be a great man if I can and help the poor people. I'm going to +be a better scholar than Sally Dunkelberg, too." + +What a day it was!--the first of many like it. I never think of those +days without saying to myself: "What a God's blessing a man like Silas +Wright can be in the community in which his heart and soul are as an +open book!" + +As the evening came on I took a long look at my cords. The shed was +nearly half full of them. Four rules of syntax, also, had been carefully +stored away in my brain. I said them over as I hurried down into the +pasture with old Shep and brought in the cows. I got through milking +just as Uncle Peabody came. I saw with joy that his face was cheerful. + +"Yip!" he shouted as he stopped his team at the barn door where Aunt +Deel and I were standing. "We ain't got much to worry about now. I've +got the interest money right here in my pocket." + +We unhitched and went in to supper. I was hoping that Aunt Deel would +speak of my work but she seemed not to think of it. + +"Had a grand day!" said Uncle Peabody, as he sat down at the table and +began to tell what Mr. Wright and Mr. Dunkelberg had said to him. + +I, too, had had a grand day and probably my elation was greater than +his. I tarried at the looking-glass hoping that Aunt Deel would give me +a chance modestly to show my uncle what I had done. But the talk about +interest and mortgages continued. I went to my uncle and tried to +whisper in his ear a hint that he had better go and look into the +wood-shed. He stopped me before I had begun by saying: + +"Don't bother me now, Bub. I'll git that candy for ye the next time I go +to the village." + +Candy! I was thinking of no such trivial matter as candy. He couldn't +know how the idea shocked me in the exalted state of mind into which I +had risen. He didn't know then of the spiritual change in me and how +generous and great I was feeling and how sublime and beautiful was the +new way in which I had set my feet. + +I went out on the porch and stood looking down with a sad countenance. +Aunt Deel followed me. + +"W'y, Bart!" she exclaimed, "you're too tired to eat--ayes! Be ye sick?" + +I shook my head. + +"Peabody," she called, "this boy has worked like a beaver every minute +since you left--ayes he has! I never see anything to beat it--never! I +want you to come right out into the wood-shed an' see what he's +done--this minute--ayes!" + +I followed them into the shed. + +"W'y of all things!" my uncle exclaimed. "He's worked like a nailer, +ain't he?" + +There were tears in his eyes when he took my hand in his rough palm and +squeezed it and said: + +"Sometimes I wish ye was little ag'in so I could take ye up in my arms +an' kiss ye just as I used to. Horace Dunkelberg says that you're the +best-lookin' boy he ever see." + +"Stop!" Aunt Deel exclaimed with a playful tap on his shoulder. "W'y! ye +mustn't go on like that." + +"I'm tellin' just what he said," my uncle answered. + +"I guess he only meant that Bart looked clean an' decent--that's +all--ayes! He didn't mean that Bart was purty. Land sakes!--no." + +I observed the note of warning in the look she gave my uncle. + +"No, I suppose not," he answered, as he turned away with a smile and +brushed one of his eyes with a rough finger. + +I repeated the rules I had learned as we went to the table. + +"I'm goin' to be like Silas Wright if I can," I added. + +"That's the idee!" said Uncle Peabody. "You keep on as you've started +an' everybody'll milk into your pail." + +I kept on--not with the vigor of that first day with its new +inspiration--but with growing strength and effectiveness. Nights and +mornings and Saturdays I worked with a will and my book in my pocket or +at the side of the field and was, I know, a help of some value on the +farm. My scholarship improved rapidly and that year I went about as far +as I could hope to go in the little school at Leonard's Corners. + +"I wouldn't wonder if ol' Kate was right about our boy," said Aunt Deel +one day when she saw me with my book in the field. + +I began to know then that ol' Kate had somehow been at work in my +soul--subconsciously as I would now put it. I was trying to put truth +into the prophecy. As I look at the whole matter these days I can see +that Mr. Grimshaw himself was a help no less important to me, for it was +a sharp spur with which he continued to prod us. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +MY SECOND PERIL + + +We always thank God for men like Purvis: we never thank them. They are +without honor in their own time, but how they brighten the pages of +memory! How they stimulated the cheerfulness of the old countryside and +broke up its natural reticence! + +Mr. Franklin Purvis was our hired man--an undersized bachelor. He had a +Roman nose, a face so slim that it would command interest and attention +in any company, and a serious look enhanced by a bristling mustache and +a retreating chin. At first and on account of his size I had no very +high opinion of Mr. Purvis. That first evening after his arrival I sat +with him on the porch surveying him inside and out. + +"You don't look very stout," I said. + +"I ain't as big as some, but I'm all gristle from my head to my heels, +inside an' out," he answered. + +I surveyed him again as he sat looking at the ledges. He was not more +than a head taller than I, but if he were "all gristle" he might be +entitled to respect and I was glad to learn of his hidden +resources--glad and a bit apprehensive as they began to develop. + +"I'm as full o' gristle as a goose's leg," he went on. "God never made a +man who could do more damage when he lets go of himself an' do it +faster. There ain't no use o' talkin'." + +There being no use of talking, our new hired man continued to talk while +I listened with breathless interest and growing respect. He took a chew +of tobacco and squinted his eyes and seemed to be studying the wooded +rock ledges across the road as he went on: + +"You'll find me wide awake, I _guess_. I ain't afraid o' anythin' but +lightnin'--no, sir!--an' I can hurt hard an' do it rapid when I begin, +but I can be jest as harmless as a kitten. There ain't no man that can +be more harmlesser when he wants to be an' there's any decent chance for +it--none whatsomever! No, sir! I'd rather be harmless than not--a good +deal." + +This relieved, and was no doubt calculated to relieve, a feeling of +insecurity which his talk had inspired. He blew out his breath and +shifted his quid as he sat with his elbows resting on his knees and took +another look at the ledges as if considering how much of his strength +would be required to move them. + +"Have you ever hurt anybody?" I asked. + +"Several," he answered. + +"Did you kill 'em?" + +"No, I never let myself go too fur. Bein' so stout, I have to be kind o' +careful." + +After a moment's pause he went on: + +"A man threatened to lick me up to Seaver's t'other day. You couldn't +blame him. He didn't know me from a side o' sole leather. He just +thought I was one o' them common, every-day cusses that folks use to +limber up on. But he see his mistake in time. I tell ye God was good to +him when he kept him away from me." + +Aunt Deel called us to supper. + +"Le's go in an' squench our hunger," Mr. Purvis proposed as he rose and +shut his jackknife. + +I was very much impressed and called him "Mr. Purvis" after that. I +enjoyed and believed many tales of adventure in which he had been the +hero as we worked together in the field or stable. I told them to my +aunt and uncle one evening, whereupon the latter said: + +"He's a good man to work, but Jerusalem--!" + +He stopped. He always stopped at the brink of every such precipice. I +had never heard him finish an uncomplimentary sentence. + +I began to have doubts regarding the greatness of our hired man. I still +called him "Mr. Purvis," but all my fear of him had vanished. + +One day Mr. Grimshaw came out in the field to see my uncle. They walked +away to the shade of a tree while "Mr. Purvis" and I went on with the +hoeing. I could hear the harsh voice of the money-lender speaking in +loud and angry tones and presently he went away. + +"What's the rip?" I asked as my uncle returned looking very sober. + +"We won't talk about it now," he answered. + +That look and the fears it inspired ruined my day which had begun with +eager plans for doing and learning. In the candle-light of the evening +Uncle Peabody said: + +"Grimshaw has demanded his mortgage money an' he wants it in gold coin. +We'll have to git it some way, I dunno how." + +"W'y of all things!" my aunt exclaimed. "How are we goin' to git all +that money--these hard times?--ayes! I'd like to know?" + +"Well, I can't tell ye," said Uncle Peabody. "I guess he can't forgive +us for savin' Rodney Barnes." + +"What did he say?" I asked. + +"Why, he says we hadn't no business to hire a man to help us. He says +you an' me ought to do all the work here. He thinks I ought to took you +out o' school long ago." + +"I can stay out o' school and keep on with my lessons," I said. + +"Not an' please him. He was mad when he see ye with a book in yer hand +out there in the corn-field." + +What were we to do now? I spent the first sad night of my life undoing +the plans which had been so dear to me but not so dear as my aunt and +uncle. I decided to give all my life and strength to the saving of the +farm. I would still try to be great, but not as great as the Senator. +Purvis stayed with us through the summer and fall. + +After the crops were in we cut and burned great heaps of timber and made +black salts of the ashes by leaching water through them and boiling down +the lye. We could sell the salts at three dollars and a half a hundred +pounds. The three of us working with a team could produce from one +hundred and twenty to one hundred and forty pounds a week. Yet we +thought it paid--there in Lickitysplit. All over the hills men and women +were turning their efforts and strength into these slender streams of +money forever flowing toward the mortgagee. + +Mr. Dunkelberg had seen Benjamin Grimshaw and got him to give us a brief +extension. They had let me stay out of school to work. I was nearly +thirteen years old and rather strong and capable. I think that I got +along in my books about as well as I could have done in our little +school. + +One day in December of that year, I had my first trial in the full +responsibility of man's work. I was allowed to load and harness and +hitch up and go to mill without assistance. My uncle and Purvis were +busy with the chopping and we were out of flour and meal. It took a lot +of them to keep the axes going. So I filled two sacks with corn and two +with wheat and put them into the box wagon, for the ground was bare, and +hitched up my horses and set out. Aunt Deel took a careful look at the +main hitches and gave me many a caution before I drove away. She said it +was a shame that I had to be "Grimshawed" into a man's work at my age. +But I was elated by my feeling of responsibility. I knew how to handle +horses and had driven at the drag and plow and once, alone, to the +post-office, but this was my first long trip without company. I had +taken my ax and a chain, for one found a tree in the road now and then +those days, and had to trim and cut and haul it aside. It was a drive of +six miles to the nearest mill, over a bad road. I sat on two cleated +boards placed across the box, with a blanket over me and my new overcoat +and mittens on, and was very comfortable and happy. + +I had taken a little of my uncle's chewing tobacco out of its paper that +lay on a shelf in the cellarway, for I had observed that my uncle +generally chewed when he was riding. I tried a little of it and was very +sick for a few minutes. + +Having recovered, I sang all the songs I knew, which were not many, and +repeated the names of the presidents and divided the world into its +parts and recited the principal rivers with all the sources and +emptyings of the latter and the boundaries of the states and the names +and locations of their capitals. It amused me in the midst of my +loneliness to keep my tongue busy and I exhausted all my knowledge, +which included a number of declamations from the speeches of Otis, Henry +and Webster, in the effort. Before the journey was half over I had taken +a complete inventory of my mental effects. I repeat that it was +amusement--of the only kind available--and not work to me. + +I reached the mill safely and before the grain was ground the earth and +the sky above it were white with snow driving down in a cold, stiff wind +out of the northwest. I loaded my grists and covered them with a blanket +and hurried away. The snow came so fast that it almost blinded me. There +were times when I could scarcely see the road or the horses. The wind +came colder and soon it was hard work to hold the reins and keep my +hands from freezing. + +Suddenly the wheels began jumping over rocks. The horses were in the +ditch. I knew what was the matter, for my eyes had been filling with +snow and I had had to brush them often. Of course the team had suffered +in a like manner. Before I could stop I heard the crack of a felly and a +front wheel dropped to its hub. I checked the horses and jumped out and +went to their heads and cleared their eyes. The snow was up to my knees +then. + +It seemed as if all the clouds in the sky were falling to the ground and +stacking into a great, fleecy cover as dry as chaff. + +We were there where the road drops into a rocky hollow near the edge of +Butterfield's woods. They used to call it Moosewood Hill because of the +abundance of moosewood around the foot of it. How the thought of that +broken wheel smote me! It was our only heavy wagon, and we having to pay +the mortgage. What would my uncle say? The query brought tears to my +eyes. + +I unhitched and led my horses up into the cover of the pines. How +grateful it seemed, for the wind was slack below but howling in the +tree-tops! I knew that I was four miles from home and knew, not how I +was to get there. Chilled to the bone, I gathered some pitch pine and +soon had a fire going with my flint and tinder. I knew that I could +mount one of the horses and lead the other and reach home probably. But +there was the grist. We needed that; I knew that we should have to go +hungry without the grist. It would get wet from above and below if I +tried to carry it on the back of a horse. I warmed myself by the fire +and hitched my team near it so as to thaw the frost out of their +forelocks and eyebrows. I felt in my coat pockets and found a handful +of nails--everybody carried nails in one pocket those days--and I +remember that my uncle's pockets were a museum of bolts and nuts and +screws and washers. + +The idea occurred to me that I would make a kind of sled which was +called a jumper. + +So I got my ax out of the wagon and soon found a couple of small trees +with the right crook for the forward end of a runner and cut them and +hewed their bottoms as smoothly as I could. Then I made notches in them +near the top of their crooks and fitted a stout stick into the notches +and secured it with nails driven by the ax-head. Thus I got a hold for +my evener. That done, I chopped and hewed an arch to cross the middle of +the runners and hold them apart and used all my nails to secure and +brace it. I got the two boards which were fastened together and +constituted my wagon seat and laid them over the arch and front brace. +How to make them fast was my worst problem. I succeeded in splitting a +green stick to hold the bolt of the evener just under its head while I +heated its lower end in the fire and kept its head cool with snow. With +this I burnt a hole in the end of each board and fastened them to the +front brace with withes of moosewood. + +It was late in the day and there was no time for the slow process of +burning more holes, so I notched the other ends of the boards and +lashed them to the rear brace with a length of my reins. Then I +retempered my bolt and brought up the grist and chain and fastened the +latter between the boards in the middle of the front brace, hitched my +team to the chain and set out again, sitting on the bags. + +It was, of course, a difficult journey, for my jumper was narrow. The +snow heaped up beneath me and now and then I and my load were rolled off +the jumper. When the drifts were more than leg deep I let down the fence +and got around them by going into the fields. Often I stopped to clear +the eyes of the horses--a slow task to be done with the bare hand--or to +fling my palms against my shoulders and thus warm myself a little. + +It was pitch dark and the horses wading to their bellies and the snow +coming faster when we turned into Rattleroad. I should not have known +the turn when we came to it, but a horse knows more than a man in the +dark. Soon I heard a loud halloo and knew that it was the voice of Uncle +Peabody. He had started out to meet me in the storm and Shep was with +him. + +"Thank God I've found ye!" he shouted. "I'm blind and tired out and I +couldn't keep a lantern goin' to save me. Are ye froze?" + +"I'm all right, but these horses are awful tired. Had to let 'em rest +every few minutes." + +I told him about the wagon--and how it relieved me to hear him say: + +"As long as you're all right, boy, I ain't goin' to worry 'bout the ol' +wagon--not a bit. Where'd ye git yer jumper?" + +"Made it with the ax and some nails," I answered. + +I didn't hear what he said about it for the horses were wallowing and we +had to stop and paw and kick the snow from beneath them as best we could +before it was possible to back out of our trouble. Soon we found an +entrance to the fields--our own fields not far from the house--where +Uncle Peabody walked ahead and picked out the best wading. After we got +to the barn door at last he went to the house and lighted his lantern +and came back with it wrapped in a blanket and Aunt Deel came with him. + +How proud it made me to hear him say: + +"Deel, our boy is a man now--made this jumper all 'lone by himself an' +has got through all right." + +She came and held the lantern up to my face and looked at my hands. + +"Well, my stars, Bart!" she exclaimed in a moment. "I thought ye would +freeze up solid--ayes--poor boy!" + +The point of my chin and the lobes of my ears and one finger were +touched and my aunt rubbed them with snow until the frost was out. + +We carried the grist in and Aunt Deel made some pudding. How good it was +to feel the warmth of the fire and of the hearts of those who loved me! +How I enjoyed the pudding and milk and bread and butter! + +"I guess you've gone through the second peril that ol' Kate spoke of," +said Aunt Deel as I went up-stairs. + +Uncle Peabody went out to look at the horses. + +When I awoke in the morning I observed that Uncle Peabody's bed had not +been slept in. I hurried down and heard that our off-horse had died in +the night of colic. Aunt Deel was crying. As he saw me Uncle Peabody +began to dance a jig in the middle of the floor. + +"Balance yer partners!" he shouted. "You an' I ain't goin' to be +discouraged if all the hosses die--be we, Bart?" + +"Never," I answered. + +"That's the talk! If nec'sary we'll hitch Purvis up with t'other hoss +an' git our haulin' done." + +He and Purvis roared with laughter and the strength of the current swept +me along with them. + +"We're the luckiest folks in the world, anyway," Uncle Peabody went on. +"Bart's alive an' there's three feet o' snow on the level an' more +comin' an' it's colder'n Greenland." + +It was such a bitter day that we worked only three hours and came back +to the house and played Old Sledge by the fireside. + +Rodney Barnes came over that afternoon and said that he would lend us a +horse for the hauling. + +When we went to bed that night Uncle Peabody whispered: + +"Say, ol' feller, we was in purty bad shape this mornin'. If we hadn't +'a' backed up sudden an' took a new holt I guess Aunt Deel would 'a' +caved in complete an' we'd all been a-bellerin' like a lot o' lost +cattle." + +We had good sleighing after that and got our bark and salts to market +and earned ninety-eight dollars. But while we got our pay in paper "bank +money," we had to pay our debts in wheat, salts or corn, so that our +earnings really amounted to only sixty-two and a half dollars, my uncle +said. This more than paid our interest. We gave the balance and ten +bushels of wheat to Mr. Grimshaw for a spavined horse, after which he +agreed to give us at least a year's extension on the principal. + +We felt easy then. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MY THIRD PERIL + + +"Mr. Purvis" took his pay in salts and stayed with us until my first +great adventure cut him off. It came one July day when I was in my +sixteenth year. He behaved badly, and I as any normal boy would have +done who had had my schooling in the candle-light. We had kept Grimshaw +from our door by paying interest and the sum of eighty dollars on the +principal. It had been hard work to live comfortably and carry the +burden of debt. Again Grimshaw had begun to press us. My uncle wanted to +get his paper and learn, if possible, when the Senator was expected in +Canton. + +So he gave me permission to ride with Purvis to the post-office--a +distance of three miles--to get the mail. Purvis rode in our only saddle +and I bareback, on a handsome white filly which my uncle had given me +soon after she was foaled. I had fed and petted and broken and groomed +her and she had grown so fond of me that my whistled call would bring +her galloping to my side from the remotest reaches of the pasture. A +chunk of sugar or an ear of corn or a pleasant grooming always rewarded +her fidelity. She loved to have me wash her legs and braid her mane and +rub her coat until it glowed, and she carried herself proudly when I was +on her back. I had named her Sally because that was the only name which +seemed to express my fondness. + +"Mr. Purvis" was not an experienced rider. My filly led him at a swift +gallop over the hills and I heard many a muttered complaint behind me, +but she liked a free head when we took the road together and I let her +have her way. + +Coming back we fell in with another rider who had been resting at +Seaver's little tavern through the heat of the day. He was a traveler on +his way to Canton and had missed the right trail and wandered far +afield. He had a big military saddle with bags and shiny brass trimmings +and a pistol in a holster, all of which appealed to my eye and interest. +The filly was a little tired and the stranger and I were riding abreast +at a walk while Purvis trailed behind us. The sun had set and as we +turned the top of a long hill the dusk was lighted with a rich, golden +glow on the horizon far below us. + +We heard a quick stir in the bushes by the roadside. + +"What's that?" Purvis demanded in a half-whisper of excitement. We +stopped. + +Then promptly a voice--a voice which I did not recognize--broke the +silence with these menacing words sharply spoken: + +"Your money or your life!" + +"Mr. Purvis" whirled his horse and lashed him up the hill. Things +happened quickly in the next second or two. Glancing backward I saw him +lose a stirrup and fall and pick himself up and run as if his life +depended on it. I saw the stranger draw his pistol. A gun went off in +the edge of the bushes close by. The flash of fire from its muzzle +leaped at the stranger. The horses reared and plunged and mine threw me +in a clump of small poppies by the roadside and dashed down the hill. +All this had broken into the peace of a summer evening on a lonely road +and the time in which it had happened could be measured, probably, by +ten ticks of the watch. + +My fall on the stony siding had stunned me and I lay for three or four +seconds, as nearly as I can estimate it, in a strange and peaceful +dream. Why did I dream of Amos Grimshaw coming to visit me, again, and +why, above all, should it have seemed to me that enough things were said +and done in that little flash of a dream to fill a whole day--enough of +talk and play and going and coming, the whole ending with a talk on the +haymow. Again and again I have wondered about that dream. I came to and +lifted my head and my consciousness swung back upon the track of memory +and took up the thread of the day, the briefest remove from where it had +broken. + +I peered through the bushes. The light was unchanged. I could see quite +clearly. The horses were gone. It was very still. The stranger lay +helpless in the road and a figure was bending over him. It was a man +with a handkerchief hanging over his face with holes cut opposite his +eyes. He had not seen my fall and thought, as I learned later, that I +had ridden away. + +His gun lay beside him, its stock toward me. I observed that a piece of +wood had been split off the lower side of the stock. I jumped to my feet +and seized a stone to hurl at him. As I did so the robber fled with gun +in hand. If the gun had been loaded I suppose that this little history +would never have been written. Quickly I hurled the stone at the robber. +I remember it was a smallish stone about the size of a hen's egg. I saw +it graze the side of his head. I saw his hand touch the place which the +stone had grazed. He reeled and nearly fell and recovered himself and +ran on, but the little stone had put the mark of Cain upon him. + +The stranger lay still in the road. I lifted his head and dropped it +quickly with a strange sickness. The feel of it and the way it fell back +upon the ground when I let go scared me, for I knew that he was dead. +The dust around him was wet. I ran down the hill a few steps and stopped +and whistled to my filly. I could hear her answering whinny far down the +dusty road and then her hoofs as she galloped toward me. She came within +a few feet of me and stood snorting. I caught and mounted her and rode +to the nearest house for help. On the way I saw why she had stopped. A +number of horses were feeding on the roadside near the log house where +Andrew Crampton lived. Andrew had just unloaded some hay and was backing +out of his barn. I hitched my filly and jumped on the rack saying: + +"Drive up the road as quick as you can. A man has been murdered." + +What a fearful word it was that I had spoken! What a panic it made in +the little dooryard! The man gasped and jerked the reins and shouted to +his horses and began swearing. The woman uttered a little scream and the +children ran crying to her side. Now for the first time I felt the dread +significance of word and deed. I had had no time to think of it before. +I thought of the robber fleeing, terror-stricken, in the growing +darkness. + +The physical facts which are further related to this tragedy are of +little moment to me now. The stranger was dead and we took his body to +our home and my uncle set out for the constable. Over and over again +that night I told the story of the shooting. We went to the scene of the +tragedy with lanterns and fenced it off and put some men on guard there. + +How the event itself and all that hurrying about in the dark had shocked +and excited me! The whole theater of life had changed. Its audience had +suddenly enlarged and was rushing over the stage and a kind of terror +was in every face and voice. There was a red-handed villain behind the +scenes, now, and how many others, I wondered. Men were no longer as they +had been. Even the God to whom I prayed was different. As I write the +sounds and shadows of that night are in my soul again. I see its +gathering gloom. I hear its rifle shot which started all the galloping +hoofs and swinging lanterns and flitting shadows and hysterical +profanity. In the morning they found the robber's footprints in the damp +dirt of the road and measured them. The whole countryside was afire with +excitement and searching the woods and fields for the highwayman. + +"Mr. Purvis," who had lost confidence suddenly in the whole world, had +been found, soon after daylight next morning, under a haycock in the +field of a farmer who was getting in his hay. Our hired man rose up and +reported in fearful tones. A band of robbers--not one, or two, even, but +a band of them--had chased him up the road and one of their bullets had +torn the side of his trousers, in support of which assertion he showed +the tear. With his able assistance we see at a glance both the quality +and the state of mind prevailing among the humbler citizens of the +countryside. They were, in a way, children whose cows had never +recovered from the habit of jumping over the moon and who still +worshiped at the secret shrine of Jack the Giant Killer. + +The stranger was buried. There was nothing upon him to indicate his name +or residence. Weeks passed with no news of the man who had slain him. I +had told of the gun with a piece of wood broken out of its stock, but no +one knew of any such weapon in or near Lickitysplit. + +One day Uncle Peabody and I drove up to Grimshaw's to make a payment of +money. I remember it was gold and silver which we carried in a little +sack. I asked where Amos was and Mrs. Grimshaw--a timid, tired-looking, +bony little woman who was never seen outside of her own house--said that +he was working out on the farm of a Mr. Beekman near Plattsburg. He had +gone over on the stage late in June to hire out for the haying. I +observed that my uncle looked very thoughtful as we rode back home and +had little to say. + +"You never had any idee who that robber was, did ye?" he asked by and +by. + +"No--I could not see plain--it was so dusk," I said. + +"I think Purvis lied about the gang that chased him," he said. "Mebbe he +thought they was after him. In my opinion he was so scairt he couldn't +'a' told a hennock from a handsaw anyway. I think it was just one man +that did that job." + +How well I remember the long silence that followed and the distant +voices that flashed across it now and then--the call of the mire drum in +the marshes and the songs of the winter wren and the swamp robin. It was +a solemn silence. + +The swift words, "Your money or your life," came out of my memory and +rang in it. I felt its likeness to the scolding demands of Mr. Grimshaw, +who was forever saying in effect: + +"Your money or your home!" + +That was like demanding our lives because we couldn't live without our +home. Our all was in it. Mr. Grimshaw's gun was the power he had over +us, and what a terrible weapon it was! I credit him with never realizing +how terrible. + +We came to the sand-hills and then Uncle Peabody broke the silence by +saying: + +"I wouldn't give fifty cents for as much o' this land as a bird could +fly around in a day." + +Then for a long time I heard only the sound of feet and wheels muffled +in the sand, while my uncle sat looking thoughtfully at the siding. +When I spoke to him he seemed not to hear me. + +Before we reached home I knew what was in his mind, but neither dared to +speak of it. + +People came from Canton and all the neighboring villages to see and talk +with me and among them were the Dunkelbergs. Unfounded tales of my +bravery had gone abroad. + +Sally seemed to be very glad to see me. We walked down to the brook and +up into the maple grove and back through the meadows. + +The beauty of that perfect day was upon her. I remember that her dress +was like the color of its fire-weed blossoms and that the blue of its +sky was in her eyes and the yellow of its sunlight in her hair and the +red of its clover in her cheeks. I remember how the August breezes +played with her hair, flinging its golden curving strands about her neck +and shoulders so that it touched my face, now and then, as we walked! +Somehow the rustle of her dress started a strange vibration in my +spirit. I put my arm around her waist and she put her arm around mine as +we ran along. A curious feeling came over me. I stopped and loosed my +arm. + +"It's very warm!" I said as I picked a stalk of fire-weed. + +What was there about the girl which so thrilled me with happiness? + +She turned away and felt the ribbon by which her hair was gathered at +the back of her head. + +I wanted to kiss her as I had done years before, but I was afraid. + +She turned suddenly and said to me: + +"A penny for your thoughts." + +"You won't laugh at me?" + +"No." + +"I was thinking how beautiful you are and how homely I am." + +"You are not homely. I like your eyes and your teeth are as white and +even as they can be and you are a big, brave boy, too." + +Oh, the vanity of youth! I had never been so happy as then. + +"I don't believe I'm brave," I said, blushing as we walked along beside +the wheat-fields that were just turning yellow. "I was terribly scared +that night--honest I was!" + +"But you didn't run away." + +"I didn't think of it or I guess I would have." + +After a moment of silence I ventured: + +"I guess you've never fallen in love." + +"Yes, I have." + +"Who with?" + +"I don't think I dare tell you," she answered, slowly, looking down as +she walked. + +"I'll tell you who I love if you wish," I said. + +"Who?" + +"You." I whispered the word and was afraid she would laugh at me, but +she didn't. She stopped and looked very serious and asked: + +"What makes you think you love me?" + +"Well, when you go away I shall think an' think about you an' feel as I +do when the leaves an' the flowers are all gone an' I know it's going to +be winter, an' I guess next Sunday Shep an' I will go down to the brook +an' come back through the meadow, an' I'll kind o' think it all +over--what you said an' what I said an' how warm the sun shone an' how +purty the wheat looked, an' I guess I'll hear that little bird singing." + +We stopped and listened to the song of a bird--I do not remember what +bird it was--and then she whispered: + +"Will you love me always and forever?" + +"Yes," I answered in the careless way of youth. + +She stopped and looked into my eyes and I looked into hers. + +"May I kiss you?" I asked, and afraid, with cheeks burning. + +She turned away and answered: "I guess you can if you want to." + +Now I seem to be in Aladdin's tower and to see her standing so red and +graceful and innocent in the sunlight, and that strange fire kindled by +our kisses warms my blood again. + +It was still play, although not like that of the grand ladies and the +noble gentlemen in which we had once indulged, but still it was +play--the sweetest and dearest kind of play which the young may enjoy, +and possibly, also, the most dangerous. + +She held my hand very tightly as we went on and I told her of my purpose +to be a great man. + +My mind was in a singular condition of simplicity those days. It was due +to the fact that I had had no confidant in school and had been brought +up in a home where there was neither father nor mother nor brother. + +That night I heard a whispered conference below after I had gone +up-stairs. I knew that something was coming and wondered what it might +be. Soon Uncle Peabody came up to our little room looking highly +serious. He sat down on the side of his bed with his hands clasped +firmly under one knee, raising his foot below it well above the floor. +He reminded me of one carefully holding taut reins on a horse of a bad +reputation. I sat, half undressed and rather fearful, looking into his +face. As I think of the immaculate soul of the boy, I feel a touch of +pathos in that scene. I think that he felt it, for I remember that his +whisper trembled a little as he began to tell me why men are strong and +women are beautiful and given to men in marriage. + +"You'll be falling in love one o' these days," he said. "It's natural ye +should. You remember Rovin' Kate?" he asked by and by. + +"Yes," I answered. + +"Some day when you're a little older I'll tell ye her story an' you'll +see what happens when men an' women break the law o' God. Here's Mr. +Wright's letter. Aunt Deel asked me to give it to you to keep. You're +old enough now an' you'll be goin' away to school before long, I guess." + +I took the letter and read again the superscription on its envelope: + + To Master Barton Baynes-- + (To be opened when he leaves home to + go to school.) + +I put it away in the pine box with leather hinges on its cover which +Uncle Peabody had made for me and wondered again what it was all about, +and again that night I broke camp and moved further into the world over +the silent trails of knowledge. + +Uncle Peabody went away for a few days after the harvesting. He had gone +afoot, I knew not where. He returned one afternoon in a buggy with the +great Michael Hacket of the Canton Academy. Hacket was a big, brawny, +red-haired, kindly Irishman with a merry heart and tongue, the latter +having a touch of the brogue of the green isle which he had never seen, +for he had been born in Massachusetts and had got his education in +Harvard. He was then a man of forty. + +"You're coming to me this fall," he said as he put his hand on my arm +and gave me a little shake. "Lad! you've got a big pair of shoulders! Ye +shall live in my house an' help with the chores if ye wish to." + +"That'll be grand," said Uncle Peabody, but, as to myself, just then, I +knew not what to think of it. + +We were picking up potatoes in the field. + +"Without 'taters an' imitators this world would be a poor place to live +in," said Mr. Hacket. "Some imitate the wise--thank God!--some the +foolish--bad 'cess to the devil!" + +As he spoke we heard a wonderful bird song in a tall spruce down by the +brook. + +"Do ye hear the little silver bells in yon tower?" he asked. + +As we listened a moment he whispered: "It's the song o' the Hermit +Thrush. I wonder, now, whom he imitates. I think the first one o' them +must 'a' come on Christmas night an' heard the angels sing an' +remembered a little o' it so he could give it to his children an' keep +it in the world." + +I looked up into the man's face and liked him, and after that I looked +forward to the time when I should know him and his home. + +Shep was rubbing his neck fondly on the schoolmaster's boot. + +"That dog couldn't think more o' me if I were a bone," he said as he +went away. + + + +END OF BOOK ONE + + + + +BOOK TWO + +Which is the Story of the Principal Witness + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +IN WHICH I MEET OTHER GREAT MEN + + +It was a sunny day in late September on which Aunt Deel and Uncle +Peabody took me and my little pine chest with all my treasures in it to +the village where I was to go to school and live with the family of Mr. +Michael Hacket, the schoolmaster. I was proud of the chest, now equipped +with iron hinges and a hasp and staple. Aunt Deel had worked hard to get +me ready, sitting late at her loom to weave cloth for my new suit, which +a traveling tailor had fitted and made for me. I remember that the +breeches were of tow and that they scratched my legs and made me very +uncomfortable, but I did not complain. My uncle used to say that nobody +with tow breeches on him could ride a horse without being thrown--they +pricked so. + +The suit which I had grown into--"the Potsdam clothes," we called them +often, but more often "the boughten clothes"--had been grown out of and +left behind in a way of speaking. I had an extra good-looking pair of +cowhide boots, as we all agreed, which John Wells, the cobbler, had made +for me. True, I had my doubts about them, but we could afford no +better. + +When the chest was about full, I remember that my aunt brought something +wrapped in a sheet of the _St. Lawrence Republican_ and put it into my +hands. + +"There are two dozen cookies an' some dried meat," said she. "Ayes, I +thought mebbe you'd like 'em--if you was hungry some time between meals. +Wait a minute." + +She went to her room and Uncle Peabody and I waited before we shut the +hasp with a wooden peg driven into its staple. + +Aunt Deel returned promptly with the Indian Book in her hands. + +"There," said she, "you might as well have it--ayes!--you're old enough +now. You'll enjoy readin' it sometimes in the evenin', mebbe--ayes! +Please be awful careful of it, Bart, for it was a present from my mother +to me--ayes it was!" + +How tenderly she held and looked at the sacred heirloom so carefully +stitched into its cover of faded linen. It was her sole legacy. Tears +came to my eyes as I thought of her generosity--greater, far greater +than that which has brought me gifts of silver and gold--although my +curiosity regarding the Indian Book had abated, largely, for I had taken +many a sly peek at it. Therein I had read how Captain Baynes--my great +grandfather--had been killed by the Indians. + +I remember the sad excitement of that ride to the village and all the +words of advice and counsel spoken by my aunt. + +"Don't go out after dark," said she. "I'm 'fraid some o' them rowdies'll +pitch on ye." + +"If they do I guess they'll be kind o' surprised," said Uncle Peabody. + +"I don't want him to fight." + +"If it's nec'sary, I believe in fightin' tooth an' nail," my uncle +maintained. + +I remember looking in vain for Sally as we passed the Dunkelbergs'. I +remember my growing loneliness as the day wore on and how Aunt Deel +stood silently buttoning my coat with tears rolling down her cheeks +while I leaned back upon the gate in front of the Hacket house, on +Ashery Lane, trying to act like a man and rather ashamed of my poor +success. It reminded me of standing in the half-bushel measure and +trying in vain, as I had more than once, to shoulder the big bag of +corn. Uncle Peabody stood surveying the sky in silence with his back +toward us. He turned and nervously blew out his breath. His lips +trembled a little as he said. + +"I dunno but what it's goin' to rain." + +I watched them as they walked to the tavern sheds, both looking down at +the ground and going rather unsteadily. Oh, the look of that beloved +pair as they walked away from me!--the look of their leaning heads! +Their silence and the sound of their footsteps are, somehow, a part of +the picture which has hung all these years in my memory. + +Suddenly I saw a man go reeling by in the middle of the road. His feet +swung. They did not rise and reach forward and touch the ground +according to the ancient habit of the human foot. They swung sideways +and rose high and each crossed the line of his flight a little, as one +might say, when it came to the ground, for the man's movements reminded +me of the aimless flight of a sporting swallow. He zig-zagged from one +side of the street to the other. He caught my eye just in time and saved +me from breaking down. I watched him until he swung around a corner. +Only once before had I seen a man drunk and walking, although I had seen +certain of our neighbors riding home drunk--so drunk that I thought +their horses were ashamed of them, being always steaming hot and in a +great hurry. + +Sally Dunkelberg and her mother came along and said that they were glad +I had come to school. I could not talk to them and seeing my trouble, +they went on, Sally waving her hand to me as they turned the corner +below. I felt ashamed of myself. Suddenly I heard the door open behind +me and the voice of Mr. Hacket: + +"Bart," he called, "I've a friend here who has something to say to you. +Come in." + +I turned and went into the house. + +"Away with sadness--laddie buck!" he exclaimed as he took his violin +from its case while I sat wiping my eyes. "Away with sadness! She often +raps at my door, and while I try not to be rude, I always pretend to be +very busy. Just a light word o' recognition by way o' common politeness! +Then laugh, if ye can an' do it quickly, lad, an' she will pass on." + +The last words were spoken in a whisper, with one hand on my breast. + +He tuned the strings and played the _Fisher's Hornpipe_. What a romp of +merry music filled the house! I had never heard the like and was soon +smiling at him as he played. His bow and fingers flew in the wild frolic +of the Devil's Dream. It led me out of my sadness into a world all new +to me. + +"Now, God bless your soul, boy!" he exclaimed, by and by, as he put down +his instrument. "We shall have a good time together--that we will. Not a +stroke o' work this day! Come, I have a guide here that will take us +down to the land o' the fairies." + +Then with his microscope he showed me into the wonder world of +littleness of which I had had no knowledge. + +"The microscope is like the art o' the teacher," he said. "I've known a +good teacher to take a brain no bigger than a fly's foot an' make it +visible to the naked eye." + +One of the children, of which there were four in the Hacket home, called +us to supper. Mrs. Hacket, a stout woman with a red and kindly face, sat +at one end of the table, and between them were the children--Mary, a +pretty daughter of seventeen years; Maggie, a six-year-old; Ruth, a +delicate girl of seven, and John, a noisy, red-faced boy of five. The +chairs were of plain wood--like the kitchen chairs of to-day. In the +middle of the table was an empty one--painted green. Before he sat down +Mr. Hacket put his hand on the back of this chair and said: + +"A merry heart to you, Michael Henry." + +I wondered at the meaning of this, but dared not to ask. The oldest +daughter acted as a kind of moderator with the others. + +"Mary is the constable of this house, with power to arrest and hale into +court for undue haste or rebellion or impoliteness," Mr. Hacket +explained. + +"I believe that Sally Dunkelberg is your friend," he said to me +presently. + +"Yes, sir," I answered. + +"A fine slip of a girl that and a born scholar. I saw you look at her as +the Persian looks at the rising sun." + +I blushed and Mary and her mother and the boy John looked at me and +laughed. + +"_Puer pulcherrime!_" Mr. Hacket exclaimed with a kindly smile. + +Uncle Peabody would have called it a "stout snag." The schoolmaster had +hauled it out of his brain very deftly and chucked it down before me in +a kind of challenge. + +"What does that mean?" I asked. + +"You shall know in a week, my son," he answered. "I shall put you into +the Latin class Wednesday morning, and God help you to like it as well +as you like Sally." + +Again they laughed and again I blushed. + +"Hold up yer head, my brave lad," he went on. "Ye've a perfect right to +like Sally if ye've a heart to." + +He sang a rollicking ballad of which I remember only the refrain: + + _A lad in his teens will never know beans if he hasn't an eye for + the girls_. + +It was a merry supper, and when it ended Mr. Hacket rose and took the +green chair from the table, exclaiming: + +"Michael Henry, God bless you!" + +Then he kissed his wife and said: + +"Maggie, you wild rose of Erin! I've been all day in the study. I must +take a walk or I shall get an exalted abdomen. One is badly beaten in +the race o' life when his abdomen gets ahead of his toes. Children, keep +our young friend happy here until I come back, and mind you, don't +forget the good fellow in the green chair." + +Mary helped her mother with the dishes, while I sat with a book by the +fireside. Soon Mrs. Hacket and the children came and sat down with me. + +"Let's play backgammon," Mary proposed. + +"I don't want to," said John. + +"Don't forget Michael Henry," she reminded. + +"Who is Michael Henry?" I asked. + +"Sure, he's the boy that has never been born," said Mrs. Hacket. "He was +to be the biggest and noblest one o' them--kind an' helpful an' cheery +hearted an' beloved o' God above all the others. We try to live up to +him." + +He seemed to me a very strange and wonderful creature--this invisible +occupant of the green chair. + +I know now what I knew not then that Michael Henry was the spirit of +their home--an ideal of which the empty green chair was a constant +reminder. + +We played backgammon and Old Maid and Everlasting until Mr. Hacket +returned. + +He sat down and read aloud from the _Letters of an Englishwoman in +America_. + +"Do you want to know what sleighing is?" she wrote. "Set your chair out +on the porch on a Christmas day. Put your feet in a pail-full of +powdered ice. Have somebody jingle a bell in one ear and blow into the +other with a bellows and you will have an exact idea of it." + +When she told of a lady who had been horned by a large insect known as a +snapdragon, he laughed loudly and closed the book and said: + +"They have found a new peril of American life. It is the gory horn of +the snapdragon. Added to our genius for boastfulness and impiety, it is +a crowning defect. Ye would think that our chief aim was the cuspidor. +Showers of expectoration and thunder claps o' profanity and braggart +gales o' Yankee dialect!--that's the moral weather report that she sends +back to England. We have faults enough, God knows, but we have something +else away beneath them an' none o' these writers has discovered it." + +The sealed envelope which Mr. Wright had left at our home, a long time +before that day, was in my pocket. At last the hour had come when. I +could open it and read the message of which I had thought much and with +a growing interest. + +I rose and said that I should like to go to my room. Mr. Hacket lighted +a candle and took me up-stairs to a little room where my chest had been +deposited. There were, in the room, a bed, a chair, a portrait of +Napoleon Bonaparte and a small table on which were a dictionary, a Bible +and a number of school books. + +"These were Mary's books," said Mr. Hacket. "I told yer uncle that ye +could use them an' welcome. There's another book here which ye may study +if ye think it worth the bother. It's a worn an' tiresome book, my lad, +but I pray God ye may find no harm in it. Use it as often as ye will. It +is the book o' my heart. Ye will find in it some kind o' answer to every +query in the endless flight o' them that's coming on, an' may the good +God help us to the truth." + +He turned and bade me good night and went away and closed the door. + +I sat down and opened the sealed envelope with trembling hands, and +found in it this brief note: + + "DEAR PARTNER: I want you to ask the wisest man you know to explain + these words to you. I suggest that you commit them to memory and + think often of their meaning. They are from Job: + + "'His bones are full of the sin of his youth, which shall lie down + with him in the dust.' + + "I believe that they are the most impressive in all the literature I + have read. + + "Yours truly, + SILAS WRIGHT, JR." + +I read the words over and over again, but knew not their meaning. Sadly +and slowly I got ready for bed. I missed the shingles and the familiar +rustle of the popple leaves above my head and the brooding silence of +the hills. The noises of the village challenged my ear after I had put +out my candle. There were many barking dogs. Some horsemen passed, with +a creaking of saddle leather, followed by a wagon. Soon I heard running +feet and eager voices. I rose and looked out of the open window. Men +were hurrying down the street with lanterns. + +"He's the son o' Ben Grimshaw," I heard one of them saying. "They caught +him back in the south woods yesterday. The sheriff said that he tried to +run away when he saw 'em coming." + +What was the meaning of this? What had Amos Grimshaw been doing? I +trembled as I got back into bed--I can not even now explain why, but +long ago I gave up trying to fathom the depths of the human spirit with +an infinite sea beneath it crossed by subtle tides and currents. We see +only the straws on the surface. + +I was up at daylight and Mr. Hacket came to my door while I was +dressing. + +"A merry day to you!" he exclaimed. "I'll await you below and introduce +you to the humble herds and flocks of a schoolmaster." + +I went with him while he fed his chickens and two small shoats. I milked +the cow for him, and together we drove her back to the pasture. Then we +split some wood and filled the boxes by the fireplace and the kitchen +stove and raked up the leaves in the dooryard and wheeled them away. + +"Now you know the duties o' your office," said the schoolmaster as we +went in to breakfast. + +We sat down at the table with the family and I drew out my letter from +the Senator and gave it to Mr. Hacket to read. + +"The Senator! God prosper him! I hear that he came on the Plattsburg +stage last night," he said as he began the reading--an announcement +which caused me and the children to clap our hands with joy. + +Mr. Hacket thoughtfully repeated the words from Job with a most +impressive intonation. + +He passed the letter back to me and said: + +"All true! I have seen it sinking into the bones o' the young and I have +seen it lying down with the aged in the dust o' their graves. It is a +big book--the one we are now opening. God help us! It has more pages +than all the days o' your life. Just think o' your body, O brave and +tender youth! It is like a sponge. How it takes things in an' holds 'em +an' feeds upon 'em! A part o' every apple ye eat sinks down into yer +blood an' bones. Ye can't get it out. It's the same way with the books +ye read an' the thoughts ye enjoy. They go down into yer bones an' ye +can't get 'em out. That's why I like to think o' Michael Henry. His food +is good thoughts and his wine is laughter. I had a long visit with M.H. +last night when ye were all abed. His face was a chunk o' laughter. Oh, +what a limb he is! I wish I could tell ye all the good things he said." + +"There comes Colonel Hand," said Mrs. Hacket as she looked out of the +window. "The poor lonely Whig! He has nothing to do these days but sit +around the tavern." + +"Ye might as well pity a goose for going bare-footed," the schoolmaster +remarked. + +In the midst of our laughter Colonel Hand rapped at the door and Mr. +Hacket admitted him. + +"I tell you the country is going to the dogs," I heard the Colonel +saying as he came into the house. + +"You inhuman Hand!" said the schoolmaster. "I should think you would be +tired of trying to crush that old indestructible worm." + +Colonel Hand was a surly looking man beyond middle age with large eyes +that showed signs of dissipation. He had a small dark tuft beneath his +lower lip and thin, black, untidy hair. + +"What do ye think has happened?" he asked as he looked down upon us with +a majestic movement of his hand. + +He stood with a stern face, like an orator, and seemed to enjoy our +suspense. + +"What do you think has happened?" he repeated. + +"God knows! It may be that Bill Harriman has swapped horses again or +that somebody has been talked to death by old Granny Barnes--which is +it?" asked the schoolmaster. + +"It is neither, sir," Colonel Hand answered sternly. "The son o' that +old Buck-tail, Ben Grimshaw, has been arrested and brought to jail for +murder." + +"For murder?" asked Mr. and Mrs. Hacket in one breath. + +"For bloody murder, sir," the Colonel went on. "It was the shooting of +that man in the town o' Ballybeen a few weeks ago. Things have come to a +pretty pass in this country, I should say. Talk about law and order, we +don't know what it means here and why should we? The party in power is +avowedly opposed to it--yes, sir. It has fattened upon bribery and +corruption. Do you think that the son o' Ben Grimshaw will receive his +punishment even if he is proved guilty? Not at all. He will be +protected--you mark my words." + +He bowed and left us. When the door had closed behind him Mr. Hacket +said: + +"Another victim horned by the Snapdragon! If a man were to be slain by a +bear back in the woods Colonel Hand would look for guilt in the +Democratic party. He will have a busy day and people will receive him as +the ghost of Creusa received the embraces of AEneas--unheeding. Michael +Henry, whatever the truth may be regarding the poor boy in jail, we are +in no way responsible. Away with sadness! What is that?" + +Mr. Hacket inclined his ear and then added: "Michael Henry says that he +may be innocent and that we had better go and see if we can help him. +Now I hadn't thought o' that. Had you, Mary?" + +"No," the girl answered. + +"We mustn't be letting Mike get ahead of us always," said her father. + +The news brought by the Colonel had shocked me and my thoughts had been +very busy since his announcement. I had thought of the book which I had +seen Amos reading in the haymow. Had its contents sunk into his +bones?--for I couldn't help thinking of all that Mr. Hacket had just +said about books and thoughts. My brain had gone back over the events of +that tragic moment--the fall, the swift dream, the look of the robber in +the dim light, the hurling of the stone. The man who fled was about the +size of Amos, but I had never thought of the latter as the guilty man. + +"You saw the crime, I believe," said Mr. Hacket as he turned to me. + +I told them all that I knew of it. + +"Upon my word, I like you, my brave lad," said the schoolmaster. "I +heard of all this and decided that you would be a help to Michael Henry +and a creditable student. Come, let us go and pay our compliments to the +Senator. He rises betimes. If he stayed at the tavern he will be out and +up at his house by now." + +The schoolmaster and I went over to Mr. Wright's house--a white, frame +building which had often been pointed out to me. + +Mrs. Wright, a fine-looking lady who met us at the door, said that the +Senator had gone over to the mill with his wheelbarrow. + +Mr. Hacket asked for the time and she answered: + +"It wants one minute of seven." + +I quote her words to show how early the day began with us back in those +times. + +"We've plenty of time and we'll wait for him," said the schoolmaster. + +"I see him!" said little John as he and Ruth ran to the gate and down +the rough plank walk to meet him. + +We saw him coming a little way down the street in his shirt-sleeves with +his barrow in front of him. He stopped and lifted little John in his +arms, and after a moment put him down and embraced Ruth. + +"Well, I see ye still love the tender embrace o' the wheelbarrow," said +Mr. Hacket as we approached the Senator. + +"My embrace is the tenderer of the two," the latter laughed with a look +at his hands. + +He recognized me and seized my two hands and shook them as he said: + +"Upon my word, here is my friend Bart. I was not looking for you here." + +He put his hand on my head, now higher than his shoulder, and said: "I +was not looking for you _here_." + +He moved his hand down some inches and added: "I was looking for you +down there. You can't tell where you'll find these youngsters if you +leave them a while." + +"We are all forever moving," said the schoolmaster. "No man is ever two +days in the same altitude unless he's a Whig." + +"Or a _born_ fool," the Senator laughed with a subtlety which I did not +then appreciate. + +He asked about my aunt and uncle and expressed joy at learning that I +was now under Mr. Hacket. + +"I shall be here for a number of weeks," he said, "and I shall want to +see you often. Maybe we'll go hunting some Saturday." + +We bade him good morning and he went on with his wheelbarrow, which was +loaded, I remember, with stout sacks of meal and flour. + +We went to the school at half past eight. What a thrilling place it was +with its seventy-eight children and its three rooms. How noisy they were +as they waited in the school yard for the bell to ring! I stood by the +door-side looking very foolish, I dare say, for I knew not what to do +with myself. My legs encased in the tow breeches felt as if they were on +fire. My timidity was increased by the fact that many were observing me +and that my appearance seemed to inspire sundry, sly remarks. I saw that +most of the village boys wore boughten clothes and fine boots. I looked +down at my own leather and was a tower of shame on a foundation of +greased cowhide. Sally Dunkelberg came in with some other girls and +pretended not to see me. That was the hardest blow I suffered. + +Among the handsome, well-dressed boys of the village was Henry +Wills--the boy who had stolen my watermelon. I had never forgiven him +for that or for the killing of my little hen. The bell rang and we +marched into the big room, while a fat girl with crinkly hair played on +a melodeon. Henry and another boy tried to shove me out of line and a +big paper wad struck the side of my head as we were marching in and +after we were seated a cross-eyed, freckled girl in a red dress made a +face at me. + +It was, on the whole, the unhappiest day of my life. It reminded me of +Captain Cook's account of his first day with a barbaric tribe on one of +the South Sea islands. During recess I slapped a boy's face for calling +me a rabbit and the two others who came to help him went away full of +fear and astonishment, for I had the strength of a young moose in me +those days. After that they began to make friends with me. + +In the noon hour a man came to me in the school yard with a subpoena for +the examination of Amos Grimshaw and explained its meaning. He also said +that Bishop Perkins, the district attorney, would call to see me that +evening. + +While I was talking with this man Sally passed me walking with another +girl and said: + +"Hello, Bart!" + +I observed that Henry Wills joined them and walked down the street at +the side of Sally. I got my first pang of jealousy then. + +When school was out that afternoon Mr. Hacket said I could have an hour +to see the sights of the village, so I set out, feeling much depressed. +My self-confidence had vanished. I was homesick and felt terribly alone. +I passed the jail and stopped and looked at its grated windows and +thought of Amos and wondered if he were really a murderer. + +I walked toward the house of Mr. Wright and saw him digging potatoes in +the garden and went in. I knew that he was my friend. + +"Well, Bart, how do you like school?" he asked. + +"Not very well," I answered. + +"Of course not! It's new to you now, and you miss your aunt and uncle. +Stick to it. You'll make friends and get interested before long." + +"I want to go home," I declared. + +"Now let's look at the compass," he suggested. "You're lost for a minute +and, like all lost people, you're heading the wrong way. Don't be misled +by selfishness. Forget what you want to do and think of what we want you +to do. We want you to make a man of yourself. You must do it for the +sake of those dear people who have done so much for you. The needle +points toward the schoolhouse yonder." + +He went on with his work, and, as I walked away, I understood that the +needle he referred to was my conscience. + +As I neared the schoolmaster's the same drunken man that I had seen +before went zigzagging up the road. + +Mr. Hacket stood in his dooryard. + +"Who is that?" I asked. + +"Nick Tubbs--the village drunkard and sign o' the times," he answered. +"Does chores at the tavern all day and goes home at night filled with +his earnings an' a great sense o' proprietorship. He is the top flower +on the bush." + +I went about my chores. There was to be no more wavering in my conduct. +At the supper table Mr. Hacket kept us laughing with songs and jests and +stories. The boy John, having been reproved for rapid eating, hurled his +spoon upon the floor. + +"Those in favor of his punishment will please say aye?" said the +schoolmaster. + +I remember that we had a divided house on that important question. + +The schoolmaster said: "Michael Henry wishes him to be forgiven on +promise of better conduct, but for the next offense he shall ride the +badger." + +This meant lying for a painful moment across his father's knee. + +The promise was given and our merry-making resumed. The district +attorney, whom I had met before, came to see me after supper and asked +more questions and advised me to talk with no one about the shooting +without his consent. Soon he went away, and after I had learned my +lessons Mr. Hacket said: + +"Let us walk up to the jail and spend a few minutes with Amos." + +We hurried to the jail. The sheriff, a stout-built, stern-faced man, +admitted us. + +"Can we see the Grimshaw boy?" Mr. Hacket inquired. + +"I guess so," he answered as he lazily rose from his chair and took +down a bunch of large keys which had been hanging on the wall. "His +father has just left." + +He spoke in a low, solemn tone which impressed me deeply as he put a +lighted candle in the hand of the schoolmaster. He led us through a door +into a narrow corridor. He thrust a big key into the lock of a heavy +iron grating and threw it open and bade us step in. We entered an +ill-smelling, stone-floored room with a number of cells against its rear +wall. He locked the door behind us. I saw a face and figure in the dim +candle-light, behind the grated door of one of these cells. How lonely +and dejected and helpless was the expression of that figure! The sheriff +went to the door and unlocked it. + +"Hello, Grimshaw," he said sternly. "Step out here." + +It all went to my heart--the manners of the sheriff so like the cold +iron of his keys and doors--the dim candle-light, the pale, frightened +youth who walked toward us. We shook his hand and he said that he was +glad to see us. I saw the scar under his left ear and reaching out upon +his cheek which my stone had made and knew that he bore the mark of +Cain. + +He asked if he could see me alone and the sheriff shook his head and +said sternly: + +"Against the rules." + +"Amos, I've a boy o' my own an' I feel for ye," said the schoolmaster. +"I'm going to come here, now and then, to cheer ye up and bring ye some +books to read. If there's any word of advice I can give ye--let me know. +Have ye a lawyer?" + +"There's one coming to-morrow." + +"Don't say a word about the case, boy, to any one but your lawyer--mind +that." + +We left him and went to our home and beds. I to spend half the night +thinking of my discovery, since which, for some reason, I had no doubt +of the guilt of Amos, but I spoke not of it to any one and the secret +worried me. + +Next morning on my way to school I passed a scene more strange and +memorable than any in my long experience. I saw the shabby figure of old +Benjamin Grimshaw walking in the side path. His hands were in his +pockets, his eyes bent upon the ground, his lips moving as if he were in +deep thought. Roving Kate, the ragged, silent woman who, for the fortune +of Amos, had drawn a gibbet, the shadow of which was now upon him, +walked slowly behind the money-lender pointing at him with her bony +forefinger. Her stern eyes watched him as the cat watches when its prey +is near it. She did not notice me. Silently, her feet wrapped in rags, +she walked behind the man, always pointing at him. When he stopped she +stopped. When he resumed his slow progress she followed. It thrilled +me, partly because I had begun to believe in the weird, mysterious power +of the Silent Woman. I had twenty minutes to spare and so I turned into +the main street, behind and close by them. I saw him stop and buy some +crackers and an apple and a piece of cheese. Meanwhile she stood +pointing at him. He saw, but gave no heed to her. He walked along the +street in front of the stores, she following as before. How patiently +she followed! + +"Why does she follow him that way?" I asked the storekeeper when they +were gone. + +"Oh, I dunno, boy!" he answered. "She's crazy an' I guess she dunno what +she's doin'." + +The explanation did not satisfy me. I knew, or thought I knew, better +than he the meaning of that look in her eyes. I had seen it before. + +I started for the big schoolhouse and a number of boys joined me with +pleasant words. + +"I saw you lookin' at ol' Kate," one of them said to me. "Don't ye ever +make fun o' her. She's got the evil eye an' if she puts it on ye, why +ye'll git drownded er fall off a high place er somethin'." + +The boys were of one accord about that. + +Sally ran past us with that low-lived Wills boy, who carried her books +for her. His father had gone into the grocery business and Henry wore +boughten clothes. I couldn't tell Sally how mean he was. I was angry +and decided not to speak to her until she spoke to me. I got along +better in school, although there was some tittering when I recited, +probably because I had a broader dialect and bigger boots than the boys +of the village. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +I MEET PRESIDENT VAN BUREN AND AM CROSS-EXAMINED BY MR. GRIMSHAW + + +The days went easier after that. The boys took me into their play and +some of them were most friendly. I had a swift foot and a good eye as +well as a strong arm, and could hold my own at three-old-cat--a kind of +baseball which we played in the school yard. Saturday came. As we were +sitting down at the table that morning the younger children clung to the +knees of Mr. Hacket and begged him to take them up the river in a boat. + +"Good Lord! What wilt thou give me when I grow childless?" he exclaimed +with his arms around them. "That was the question of Abraham, and it +often comes to me. Of course we shall go. But hark! Let us hear what the +green chair has to say." + +There was a moment of silence and then he went on with a merry laugh. +"Right ye are, Michael Henry! You are always right, my boy--God bless +your soul! We shall take Bart with us an' doughnuts an' cheese an' +cookies an' dried meat for all." + +From that moment I date the beginning of my love for the occupant of the +green chair in the home of Michael Hacket. Those good people were +Catholics and I a Protestant and yet this Michael Henry always insisted +upon the most delicate consideration for my faith and feelings. + +"I promised to spend the morning in the field with Mr. Wright, if I may +have your consent, sir," I said. + +"Then we shall console ourselves, knowing that you are in better +company," said Mr. Hacket. + +Mr. Dunkelberg called at the house in Ashery Lane to see me after +breakfast. + +"Bart, if you will come with me I should like to order some store +clothes and boots for you," he said in his squeaky voice. + +For a moment I knew not how to answer him. Nettled as I had been by +Sally's treatment of me, the offer was like rubbing ashes on the +soreness of my spirit. + +I blushed and surveyed my garments and said: + +"I guess I look pretty badly, don't I?" + +"You look all right, but I thought, maybe, you would feel better in +softer raiment, especially if you care to go around much with the young +people. I am an old friend of the family and I guess it would be proper +for me to buy the clothes for you. When you are older you can buy a suit +for me, sometime, if you care to." + +It should be understood that well-to-do people in the towns were more +particular about their dress those days than now. + +"I'll ask my aunt and uncle about it," I proposed. + +"That's all right," he answered. "I'm going to drive up to your house +this afternoon and your uncle wishes you to go with me. We are all to +have a talk with Mr. Grimshaw." + +He left me and I went over to Mr. Wright's. + +They told me that he was cutting corn in the back lot, where I found +him. + +"How do I look in these clothes?" I bravely asked. + +"Like the son of a farmer up in the hills and that's just as you ought +to look," he answered. + +In a moment he added as he reaped a hill of corn with his sickle. + +"I suppose they are making fun of you, partner." + +"Some," I answered, blushing. + +"Don't mind that," he advised, and then quoted the stanza: + + "Were I as tall to reach the pole + Or grasp the ocean in a span, + I'd still me measured by my soul; + The mind's the standard of the man." + +"Mr. Dunkelberg came this morning and wanted to buy me some new clothes +and boots," I said. + +[Illustration: "Good Lord! What wilt thou give me when I grow +childless?"] + +The Senator stopped work and stood looking at me with his hands upon his +hips. + +"I wouldn't let him do it if I were you," he said thoughtfully. + +Just then I saw a young man come running toward us in the distant field. + +Mr. Wright took out his compass. + +"Look here," he said, "you see the needle points due north." + +He took a lodestone out of his pocket and holding it near the compass +moved it back and forth. The needle followed it. + +The young man came up to us breathing deeply. Perspiration was rolling +off his face. He was much excited and spoke with some difficulty. + +"Senator Wright," he gasped, "Mrs. Wright sent me down to tell you that +President Van Buren is at the house." + +I remember vividly the look of mild amusement in the Senator's face and +the serene calmness with which he looked at the young man and said to +him: + +"Tell Mrs. Wright to make him comfortable in our easiest chair and to +say to the President that I shall be up directly." + +To my utter surprise he resumed his talk with me as the young man went +away. + +"You see all ways are north when you put this lodestone near the +needle," he went on. "If it is to tell you the truth you must keep the +lodestone away from the needle. It's that way, too, with the compass of +your soul, partner. There the lodestone is selfishness, and with its +help you can make any direction look right to you and soon--you're +lost." + +He put his hand on my arm and said in a low tone which made me to +understand that it was for my ear only. + +"What I fear is that they may try to tamper with your compass. Look out +for lodestones." + +He was near the end of a row and went on with his reaping as he said: + +"I could take my body off this row any minute, but the only way to get +my mind off it is to go to its end." + +He bound the last bundle and then we walked together toward the house, +the Senator carrying his sickle. + +"I shall introduce you to the President," he said as we neared our +destination. "Then perhaps you had better leave us." + +At home we had read much about the new President and regarded him with +deep veneration. In general I knew the grounds of it--his fight against +the banks for using public funds for selfish purposes and "swapping +mushrats for mink" with the government, as uncle put it, by seeking to +return the same in cheapened paper money; his long battle for the +extension of the right of suffrage in our state; his fiery eloquence in +debate. Often I had heard Uncle Peabody say that Van Buren had made it +possible for a poor man to vote in York State and hold up his head like +a man. So I was deeply moved by the prospect of seeing him. + +I could not remember that I had ever been "introduced" to anybody. I +knew that people put their wits on exhibition and often flung down a +"snag" by way of demonstrating their fitness for the honor, when they +were introduced in books. I remember asking rather timidly: + +"What shall I say when--when you--introduce me?" + +"Oh, say anything that you want to say," he answered with a look of +amusement. + +"I'm kind o' scared," I said. + +"You needn't be--he was once a poor boy just like you." + +"Just like _me_!" I repeated, thoughtfully, for while I had heard a good +deal of that kind of thing in our home, it had not, somehow, got under +my jacket, as they used to say. + +"Just like _you_--cowhide and all--the son of a small freeholder in +Kinderhook on the Hudson," he went on. "But he was well fed in brain and +body and kept his heart clean. So, of course, he grew and is still +growing. That's a curious thing about men and women, Bart. If +they are in good ground and properly cared for they never stop +growing-never!--and that's a pretty full word--isn't it?" + +I felt its fulness, but the Senator had a way of stopping just this side +of the grave in all his talks with me, and so there was no sign of +preaching in any of it. + +"As time goes on you'll meet a good many great men, I presume," he +continued. "They're all just human beings like you and me. Most of them +enjoy beefsteak, and apple pie and good boys." + +We had come in sight of the house. I lagged behind a little when I saw +the great man sitting on the small piazza with Mrs. Wright. I shall +never forget the grand clothes he wore--black, saving the gray +waistcoat, with shiny, brass buttons--especially the great, white +standing collar and cravat. I see vividly, too, as I write, the full +figure, the ruddy, kindly face, the large nose, the gray eyes, the thick +halo of silvered hair extending from his collar to the bald top of his +head. He rose and said in a deep voice: + +"He sows ill luck who hinders the reaper." + +Mr. Wright hung his sickle on a small tree in the dooryard and answered. + +"The plowman has overtaken the reaper, Mr. President. I bid you welcome +to my humble home." + +"It is a pleasure to be here and a regret to call you back to +Washington," said the President as they shook hands. + +"I suppose that means an extra session," the Senator answered. + +"First let me reassure you. I shall get away as soon as possible, for I +know that a President is a heavy burden for one to have on his hands." + +"Don't worry. I can get along with almost any kind of a human being, +especially if he likes pudding and milk as well as you do," said the +Senator, who then introduced me in these words: + +"Mr. President, this is my young friend Barton Baynes of the +neighborhood of Lickitysplit in the town of Ballybeen--a coming man of +this county." + +"Come on," was the playful remark of the President as he took my hand. +"I shall be looking for you." + +I had carefully chosen my words and I remember saying, with some +dignity, like one in a story book, although with a trembling voice: + +"It is an honor to meet you, sir, and thank you for the right to +vote--when I am old enough." + +Vividly, too, I remember his gentle smile as he looked down at me and +said in a most kindly tone: + +"I think it a great honor to hear you say that." + +He put his hands upon my shoulders and turning to the Senator said: + +"Wright, I often wish that I had your modesty." + +"I need it much more than you do," the Senator laughed. + +Straightway I left them with an awkward bow and blushing to the roots of +my hair. A number of boys and girls stood under the shade trees opposite +looking across at the President. In my embarrassment I did not identify +any one in the group. Numbers of men and women were passing the house +and, as they did so, taking "a good look," in their way of speaking at +the two great men. Not before had I seen so many people walking +about--many in their best clothes. + +As I neared the home of Mr. Hacket I heard hurrying footsteps behind me +and the voice of Sally calling my name. I stopped and faced about. + +How charming she looked as she walked toward me! I had never seen her +quite so fixed up. + +"Bart," she said. "I suppose you're not going to speak to me." + +"If you'll speak to me," I answered. + +"I love to speak to you," she said. "I've been looking all around for +you. Mother wants you to come over to dinner with us at just twelve +o'clock. You're going away with father as soon as we get through." + +I wanted to go but got the notion all at once that the Dunkelbergs were +in need of information about me and that the time had come to impart it. +So then and there, that ancient Olympus of our family received notice +as it were. + +"I can't," I said. "I've got to study my lessons before I go away with +your father." + +It was a blow to her. I saw the shadow that fell upon her face. She was +vexed and turned and ran away from me without another word and I felt a +pang of regret as I went to the lonely and deserted home of the +schoolmaster. + +I had hoped that the Senator would ask me to dinner, but the coming of +the President had upset the chance of it. It was eleven o'clock. Mrs. +Hacket had put a cold bite on the table for me. I ate it--not to keep it +waiting--and sat down with my eyes on my book and my mind at the +Dunkelbergs'--where I heard in a way what Sally was saying and what "Mr. +and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg" were saying. + +At twelve-thirty Mr. Dunkelberg came for me, with a high-stepping horse +in a new harness and a shiny still-running buggy. He wore gloves and a +beaver hat and sat very erect and had little to say. + +"I hear you met the President," he remarked. + +"Yes, sir. I was introduced to him this morning," I answered a bit too +proudly, and wondering how he had heard of my good fortune, but deeply +gratified at his knowledge of it. + +"What did he have to say?" + +I described the interview and the looks of the great man. Not much more +was said as we sped away toward the deep woods and the high hills. + +I was eager to get home but wondered why he should be going with me to +talk with Mr. Grimshaw and my uncle. Of course I suspected that it had +to do with Amos but how I knew not. He hummed in the rough going and +thoughtfully nicked the bushes with his whip. I never knew a more +persistent hummer. + +What a thrill came to me when I saw the house and the popple tree and +the lilac bushes--they looked so friendly! Old Shep came barking up the +road to meet us and ran by the buggy side with joyful leaps and cries. +With what affection he crowded upon me and licked my face and hands when +my feet were on the ground at last! Aunt Deel and Uncle Peabody were +coming in from the pasture lot with sacks of butternuts on a +wheelbarrow. My uncle clapped his hands and waved his handkerchief and +shouted "Hooray!" + +Aunt Deel shook hands with Mr. Dunkelberg and then came to me and said: + +"Wal, Bart Baynes! I never was so glad to see anybody in all the days o' +my life--ayes! We been lookin' up the road for an hour--ayes! You come +right into the house this minute--both o' you." + +The table was spread with the things I enjoyed most--big brown biscuits +and a great comb of honey surrounded with its nectar and a pitcher of +milk and a plate of cheese and some jerked meat and an apple pie. + +"Set right down an' eat--I just want to see ye eat--ayes I do!" + +Aunt Deel was treating me like company and with just a pleasant touch of +the old company finish in her voice and manner. It was for my +benefit--there could be no doubt of that--for she addressed herself to +me, chiefly, and not to Mr. Dunkelberg. My absence of a few days had +seemed so long to them! It had raised me to the rank of company and even +put me above the exalted Dunkelbergs although if Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg +had been there in her blue silk and gold chain "big enough to drag a +stone boat," as Aunt Deel used to say, she might have saved the day for +them. Who knows? Aunt Deel was never much impressed by any man save +Silas Wright, Jr. + +Mr. Grimshaw came soon after we had finished our luncheon. He hitched +his horse at the post and came in. He never shook hands with anybody. In +all my life I have met no man of scanter amenities. All that kind of +thing was, in his view, I think, a waste of time, a foolish +encouragement to men who were likely to be seeking favors. + +"Good day," he said, once and for all, as he came in at the open door. +"Baynes, I want to have a talk with you and the boy." + +I remember how each intake of his breath hissed through his lips as he +sat down. How worn and faded were his clothes and hat, which was still +on his head! The lines on his rugged brow and cheeks were deeper than +ever. + +"Tell me what you know about that murder," he demanded. + +"Wal, I had some business over to Plattsburg," my uncle began. "While I +was there I thought I'd go and see Amos. So I drove out to Beekman's +farm. They told me that Amos had left there after workin' four days. +They gave him fourteen shillin's an' he was goin' to take the stage in +the mornin'. He left some time in the night an' took Beekman's rifle +with him, so they said. There was a piece o' wood broke out o' the stock +o' the rifle. That was the kind o' gun that was used in the murder." + +It surprised me that my uncle knew all this. He had said nothing to me +of his journey or its result. + +"How do you know?" snapped Mr. Grimshaw. + +"This boy see it plain. It was a gun with a piece o' wood broke out o' +the stock." + +"Is that so?" was the brusque demand of the money-lender as he turned to +me. + +"Yes, sir," I answered. + +"The boy lies," he snapped, and turning to my uncle added: "Yer mad +'cause I'm tryin' to make ye pay yer honest debts--ain't ye now?" + +We were stunned by this quick attack. Uncle Peabody rose suddenly and +sat down again. Mr. Grimshaw looked at him with a strange smile and a +taunting devilish laugh came out of his open lips. + +Uncle Peabody, keeping his temper, shook his head and calmly said: "No I +ain't anything ag'in' you or Amos, but it's got to be so that a man can +travel the roads o' this town without gettin' his head blowed off." + +Mr. Dunkelberg jumped into the breach then, saying: + +"I told Mr. Grimshaw that you hadn't any grudge against him or his boy +and that I knew you'd do what you could to help in this matter." + +"Of course I'll help in any way I can," my uncle answered. "I couldn't +harm him if I tried--not if he's innocent. All he's got to do is to +prove where he was that night." + +"Suppose he was lost in the woods?" Mr. Dunkelberg asked. + +"The truth wouldn't harm him any," my uncle insisted. "Them tracks +wouldn't fit his boots, an' they'd have to." + +Mr. Dunkelberg turned to me and asked: + +"Are you sure that the stock of the gun you saw was broken?" + +"Yes, sir-and I'm almost sure it was Amos that ran away with it." + +"Why?" + +"I picked up a stone and threw it at him and it grazed the left side of +his face, and the other night I saw the scar it made." + +My aunt and uncle and Mr. Dunkelberg moved with astonishment as I spoke +of the scar. Mr. Grimshaw, with keen eyes fixed upon me, gave a little +grunt of incredulity. + +"Huh!--Liar!" he muttered. + +"I am not a liar," I declared with indignation, whereupon my aunt +angrily stirred the fire in the stove and Uncle Peabody put his hand on +my arm and said: + +"Hush, Bart! Keep your temper, son." + +"If you tell these things you may be the means of sending an innocent +boy to his death," Mr. Dunkelberg said to me. "I wouldn't be too sure +about 'em if I were you. It's so easy to be mistaken. You couldn't be +sure in the dusk that the stone really hit him, could you?" + +I answered: "Yes, sir--I saw the stone hit and I saw him put his hand on +the place while he was running. I guess it hurt him some." + +"Look a' here, Baynes," Mr. Grimshaw began in that familiar scolding +tone of his. "I know what you want an' we might jest as well git right +down to business first as last. You keep this boy still an' I'll give ye +five years' interest." + +Aunt Deel gave a gasp and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Uncle +Peabody changed color as he rose from his chair with a strange look on +his face. He swung his big right hand in the air as he said: + +"By the eternal jumpin'--" + +He stopped, pulled down the left sleeve of his flannel shirt and walked +to the water pail and drank out of the dipper. + +"The times are hard," Grimshaw resumed in a milder tone. "These days the +rich men dunno what's a-comin' to 'em. If you don't have no interest to +pay you ought to git along easy an' give this boy the eddication of a +Sile Wright." + +There was that in his tone and face which indicated that in his opinion +Sile had more "eddication" than any man needed. + +"Say, Mr. Grimshaw, I'm awful sorry for ye," said my uncle as he +returned to his chair, "but I've always learnt this boy to tell the +truth an' the hull truth. I know the danger I'm in. We're gettin' old. +It'll be hard to start over ag'in an' you can ruin us if ye want to an' +I'm as scared o' ye as a mouse in a cat's paw, but this boy has got to +tell the truth right out plain. I couldn't muzzle him if I tried--he's +too much of a man. If you're scared o' the truth you mus' know that Amos +is guilty." + +Mr. Grimshaw shook his head with anger and beat the floor with the end +of his cane. + +"Nobody knows anything o' the kind, Baynes," said Mr. Dunkelberg. "Of +course Amos never thought o' killing anybody. He's a harmless kind of a +boy. I know him well and so do you. The only thing that anybody ever +heard against him is that he's a little lazy. Under the circumstances +Mr. Grimshaw is afraid that Bart's story will make it difficult for Amos +to prove his innocence. Just think of it. That boy was lost and +wandering around in the woods at the time o' the murder. As to that +scar, Amos says that he ran into a stub when he was going through a +thicket in the night." + +Uncle Peabody shook his head with a look of firmness. + +Again Grimshaw laughed between his teeth as he looked at my uncle. In +his view every man had his price. + +"I see that I'm the mouse an' you're the cat," he resumed, as that +curious laugh rattled in his throat. "Look a' here, Baynes, I'll tell ye +what I'll do. I'll cancel the hull mortgage." + +Again Uncle Peabody rose from his chair with a look in his face which I +have never forgotten. How his voice rang out! + +"_No, sir_!" he shouted so loudly that we all jumped to our feet and +Aunt Deel covered her face with her apron and began to cry. It was like +the explosion of a blast. Then the fragments began falling with a loud +crash: + +"NO, SIR! YE CAN'T BUY THE NAIL ON MY LITTLE FINGER OR HIS WITH ALL YER +MONEY--DAMN YOU!" + +It was like the shout of Israel from the top of the mountains. Shep +bounced into the house with hair on end and the chickens cackled and the +old rooster clapped his wings and crowed with all the power of his +lungs. Every member of that little group stood stock-still and +breathless. + +I trembled with a fear I could not have defined. Quick relief came when, +straightway, my uncle went out of the room and stood on the stoop, back +toward us, and blew his nose vigorously with his big red handkerchief. +He stood still looking down and wiping his eyes. Mr. Grimshaw shuffled +out of the door, his cane rapping the floor as if his arm had been +stricken with palsy in a moment. + +Mr. Dunkelberg turned to my aunt, his face scarlet, and muttered an +apology for the disturbance and followed the money-lender. + +I remember that my own eyes were wet as I went to my aunt and kissed +her. She kissed me--a rare thing for her to do--and whispered brokenly +but with a smile: "We'll go down to the poorhouse together, Bart, but +we'll go honest." + +"Come on, Bart," Uncle Peabody called cheerfully, as he walked toward +the barnyard. "Le's go an' git in them but'nuts." + +He paid no attention to our visitors--neither did my aunt, who followed +us. The two men talked together a moment, unhitched their horses, got +into their buggies and drove away. The great red rooster had stood on +the fence eying them. As they turned their horses and drove slowly +toward the gate, he clapped his wings and crowed lustily. + +"Give it to 'em, ol' Dick," said Uncle Peabody with a clap of his hands. +"Tell 'em what ye think of 'em." + +At last the Dunkelbergs had fallen--the legendary, incomparable +Dunkelbergs! + +"Wal, I'm surprised at Mr. Horace Dunkelberg tryin' to come it over us +like that--ayes! I be," said Aunt Deel. + +"Wal, I ain't," said Uncle Peabody. "Ol' Grimshaw has got him under his +thumb--that's what's the matter. You'll find he's up to his ears in debt +to Grimshaw--prob'ly." + +As we followed him toward the house, he pushing the wheelbarrow loaded +with sacks of nuts, he added: + +"At last Grimshaw has found somethin' that he can't buy an' he's awful +surprised. Too bad he didn't learn that lesson long ago." + +He stopped his wheelbarrow by the steps and we sat down together on the +edge of the stoop as he added: + +"I got mad--they kep' pickin' on me so--I'm sorry, but I couldn't help +it. We'll start up ag'in somewheres if we have to. There's a good many +days' work in me yet." + +As we carried the bags to the attic room I thought of the lodestone and +the compass and knew that Mr. Wright had foreseen what was likely to +happen. When we came down Uncle Peabody said to me: + +"Do you remember what you read out of a book one night about a man +sellin' his honor?" + +"Yes," I answered. "It's one o' the books that Mr. Wright gave us." + +"It's somethin' purty common sense," he remarked, "an' we stopped and +talked it over. I wish you'd git the book an' read it now." + +I found the book and read aloud the following passage: + + "Honor is a strange commodity. It can not be divided and sold in + part. All or none is the rule of the market. While it can be sold + in a way, it can not be truly bought. It vanishes in the transfer + of its title and is no more. Who seeks to buy it gains only loss. + It is the one thing which distinguishes manhood from property. Who + sells his honor sells his manhood and becomes simply a thing of + meat and blood and bones--a thing to be watched and driven and + cudgelled like the ox--for he has sold that he can not buy, not if + all the riches in the world were his." + +A little silence followed the words. Then Uncle Peabody said: + +"That's the kind o' stuff in our granary. We've been reapin' it out o' +the books Mr. Grimshaw scolded about, a little here an' a little there +for years, an' we knew it was good wheat. If he had books like that in +his house mebbe Amos would 'a' been different. An' he'd 'a' been +different. He wouldn't 'a' had to come here tryin' to buy our honor like +you'd buy a hoss." + +"Oh, dear!" Aunt Deel exclaimed wearily, with her hands over her eyes; +"a boy has to have somethin' besides pigs an' cattle an' threats an' +stones an' hoss dung an' cow manure to take up his mind." + +Uncle Peabody voiced my own feeling when he said: + +"I feel sorry, awful sorry, for that boy." + +We spent a silent afternoon gathering apples. After supper we played Old +Sledge and my uncle had hard work to keep us in good countenance. We +went to bed early and I lay long hearing the autumn wind in the popple +leaves and thinking of that great thing which had grown strong within +us, little by little, in the candle-light. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A PARTY AND--MY FOURTH PERIL? + + +"A dead fish can swim down-stream but only a live one can swim up it," +said Uncle Peabody as we rode toward the village together. We had been +talking of that strong current of evil which had tried to carry us along +with it. I understood him perfectly. + +It was a rainy Sunday. In the middle of the afternoon Uncle Peabody and +I had set out in our spring buggy with the family umbrella--a faded but +sacred implement, always carefully dried, after using, and hung in the +clothes press. I remember that its folded skirt was as big around as my +coat sleeve and that Uncle Peabody always grasped it in the middle, with +hand about its waist, in a way of speaking, when he carried it after a +shower. The rain came on again and with such violence that we were +drenched to the skin in spite of the umbrella. It was still raining when +we arrived at the familiar door in Ashery Lane. Uncle Peabody wouldn't +stop. + +"Water never scares a live fish," he declared with a chuckle as he +turned around. "Good-by, Bart." + +He hurried away. We pioneers rarely stopped or even turned out for the +weather. Uncle Peabody used to say that the way to get sick was to +change your clothes every time you got wet. It was growing dusk and I +felt sorry for him. + +"Come in," said the voice of the schoolmaster at the door. "There's good +weather under this roof." + +He saw my plight as I entered. + +"I'm like a shaggy dog that's been in swimming," I said. + +"Upon my word, boy, we're in luck," remarked the schoolmaster. + +I looked up at him. + +"Michael Henry's clothes!--sure, they're just the thing for you!" + +"Will they go on me?" I asked, for, being large of my age, I had +acquired an habitual shyness of things that were too small for me, and +things, too, had seemed to have got the habit of being too small. + +"As easily as Nick Tubbs goes on a spree, and far more becoming, for I +do not think a spree ever looks worse than when Tubbs is on it. Come +with me." + +I followed him up-stairs, wondering how it had happened that Michael +Henry had clothes. + +He took me into his room and brought some handsome soft clothes out of +a press with shirt, socks and boots to match. + +"There, my laddie buck," said he, "put them on." + +"These will soon dry on me," I said. + +"Put them on--ye laggard! Michael Henry told me to give them to you. +It's the birthday night o' little Ruth, my boy. There's a big cake with +candles and chicken pie and jellied cookies and all the like o' that. +Put them on. A wet boy at the feast would dampen the whole proceedings." + +I put them on and with a great sense of relief and comfort. They were an +admirable fit--too perfect for an accident, although at the time I +thought only of their grandeur as I stood surveying myself in the +looking-glass. They were of blue cloth and I saw that they went well +with my blond hair and light skin. I was putting on my collar and +necktie when Mr. Hacket returned. + +"God bless ye, boy," said he. "There's not a bear in the township whose +coat and trousers are a better fit. Sure if ye had on a beaver hat ye'd +look like a lawyer or a statesman. Boy! How delighted Michael Henry will +be! Come on now. The table is spread and the feast is waiting. Mind ye, +give a good clap when I come in with the guest." + +We went below and the table was very grand with its great frosted cake +and its candles, in shiny brass sticks, and its jellies and preserves +with the gleam of polished pewter among them. Mrs. Hacket and all the +children, save Ruth, were waiting for us in the dining-room. + +"Now sit down here, all o' ye, with Michael Henry," said the +schoolmaster. "The little lady will be impatient. I'll go and get her +and God help us to make her remember the day." + +He was gone a moment, only, when he came back with Ruth in lovely white +dress and slippers and gay with ribbons, and the silver beads of Mary on +her neck. We clapped our hands and cheered and, in the excitement of the +moment, John tipped over his drinking glass and shattered it on the +floor. + +"Never mind, my brave lad--no glass ever perished in a better cause. God +bless you!" + +What a merry time we had in spite of recurring thoughts of Uncle Peabody +and the black horse toiling over the dark hills and flats in the rain +toward the lonely farm and the lonelier, beloved woman who awaited him! +There were many shadows in the way of happiness those days but, after +all, youth has a way of speeding through them--hasn't it? + +We ate and jested and talked, and the sound of our laughter drowned the +cry of the wind in the chimney and the drumming of the rain upon the +windows. + +In the midst of it all Mr. Hacket arose and tapped his cup with his +spoon. + +"Oh you merry, God-blessed people," he said. "Michael Henry has bade me +speak for him." + +The schoolmaster took out of his pocketbook a folded sheet of paper. As +he opened it a little, golden, black-tipped feather fell upon the table. + +"Look! here is a plume o' the golden robin," the schoolmaster went on. +"He dropped it in our garden yesterday to lighten ship, I fancied, +before he left, the summer's work and play being ended. Ye should 'a' +seen Michael Henry when he looked at the feather. How it tickled his +fancy! I gave him my thought about it. + +"'Nay, father,' he answered. 'Have ye forgotten that to-morrow is the +birthday o' our little Ruth? The bird knew it and brought this gift to +her. It is out o' the great gold mines o' the sky which are the richest +in the world.' + +"Then these lines came off his tongue, with no more hesitation about it +than the bird has when he sings his song on a bright summer morning and +I put them down to go with the feather. Here they are now: + + "TO RUTH + + "'Little lady, draw thy will + With this Golden Robin's quill-- + Sun-stained, night-tipped, elfish thing-- + Symbol of thy magic wing! + + "'Give to me thy fairy lands + And palaces, on silver sands. + Oh will to me, my heart implores, + Their alabaster walls and floors! + Their gates that ope on Paradise + Or earth, or Eden in a trice. + Give me thy title to the hours + That pass in fair Aladdin towers. + But most I'd prize thy heavenly art + To win and lead the stony heart. + Give these to me that solemn day + Thou'rt done with them, I humbly pray. + + "'Little lady, draw thy will + With this Golden Robin's quill.'" + +He bowed to our young guest and kissed her hand and sat down in the +midst of our cheering. + +I remember well the delightful sadness that came into my heart on the +musical voice of the reader. The lines, simple as they were, opened a +new gate in my imagination beyond which I heard often the sound of music +and flowing fountains and caught glimpses, now and then, of magic towers +and walls of alabaster. There had been no fairies in Lickitysplit. Two +or three times I had come upon fairy footprints in the books which Mr. +Wright had sent to us, but neither my aunt nor my uncle could explain +whence they came or the nature of their errand. + +Mr. Hacket allowed me to write down the lines in my little diary of +events and expenses, from which I have just copied them. + +We sang and spoke pieces until nine o'clock and then we older members of +the party fell to with Mrs. Hacket and washed and dried the dishes and +put them away. + +Next morning my clothes, which had been hung by the kitchen stove, were +damp and wrinkled. Mr. Racket came to my room before I had risen. + +"Michael Henry would rather see his clothes hanging on a good boy than +on a nail in the closet," said he. "Sure they give no comfort to the +nail at all." + +"I guess mine are dry now," I answered. + +"They're wet and heavy, boy. No son o' Baldur could keep a light heart +in them. Sure ye'd be as much out o' place as a sunbeam in a cave o' +bats. If ye care not for your own comfort think o' the poor lad in the +green chair. He's that proud and pleased to see them on ye it would be a +shame to reject his offer. Sure, if they were dry yer own garments would +be good enough, God knows, but Michael Henry loves the look o' ye in +these togs and then the President is in town." + +That evening he discovered a big stain, black as ink, on my coat and +trousers. Mr. Hacket expressed the opinion that it might have come from +the umbrella but I am quite sure that he had spotted them to save me +from the last home-made suit I ever wore, save in rough work, and keep +Michael Henry's on my back. In any event I wore them no more save at +chore time. + +I began to make good progress in my studies that week and to observe the +affection with which Mr. Hacket was regarded in the school and village. +I remember that his eyes gave out and had to be bandaged but the boys +and girls in his room behaved even better than before. It was curious to +observe how the older ones controlled the younger in that emergency. + +Sally came and went, with the Wills boy, and gave no heed to me. In her +eyes I had no more substance than a ghost, it seemed to me, although I +caught her, often, looking at me. I judged that her father had given her +a bad report of us and had some regrets, in spite of my knowledge that +we were right, although they related mostly to Amos. + +Next afternoon I saw Mr. Wright and the President walking back and forth +on the bridge as they talked together. A number of men stood in front of +the blacksmith shop, by the river shore, watching them, as I passed, on +my way to the mill on an errand. The two statesmen were in broadcloth +and white linen and beaver hats. They stopped as I approached them. + +"Well, partner, we shall be leaving in an hour or so," said Mr. Wright +as he gave me his hand. "You may look for me here soon after the close +of the session. Take care of yourself and go often to see Mrs. Wright +and obey your captain and remember me to your aunt and uncle." + +"See that you keep coming, my good boy," said the President as he gave +me his hand, with playful reference, no doubt, to Mr. Wright's remark +that I was a coming man. + +"Bart, I've some wheat to be threshed in the barn on the back lot," said +the Senator as I was leaving them. "You can do it Saturdays, if you care +to, at a shilling an hour. Stack the straw out-of-doors until you've +finished then put it back in the bay. Winnow the wheat carefully and +sack it and bring it down to the granary and I'll settle with you when I +return." + +I remember that a number of men who worked in Grimshaw's saw-mill were +passing as he spoke. + +"Yes, sir," I answered, much elated by the prospect of earning money. + +I left with a feeling of keen disappointment that I was to see so little +of my distinguished friend and a thought of the imperious errands of men +which put the broad reaches of the earth between friend and friend. + +I remember repeating to myself the words of the Senator which began: +"You may look for me here soon after the close of the session," in the +tone in which he had said them. As of old, I admired and tried to +imitate his dignity of speech and bearing. + +When I returned from the mill they were gone. + +The examination of Amos was set down for Monday and the people of the +village were stirred and shaken by wildest rumors regarding the evidence +to be adduced. Every day men and women stopped me in the Street to ask +what I knew of the murder. I followed the advice of Bishop Perkins and +kept my knowledge to myself. + +My life went on at the same kindly, merry pace in the home of the +schoolmaster. The bandages over his eyes had in no way clouded his +spirit. + +"Ah, now, I wish that I could see you," he said one evening when we were +all laughing at some remark of his. "I love the look of a merry face." + +I continued to wear the mysterious clothes of Michael Henry, save at +chore time, when I put on the spotted suit of homespun. I observed that +it made a great difference with my social standing. I was treated with a +greater deference at the school, and Elizabeth Allen invited me to her +party, to which, however, I had not the courage to go, having no idea +what happened to one at a village party. + +I asked a boy in my Latin class to tell me. + +"Oh, ye just fly around an' kiss and git kissed till ye feel like a +fool." + +That settled it for me. Not that I would have failed to enjoy kissing +Sally, but we were out, as they used to say, and it would have +embarrassed both of us to meet at a party. + +Saturday came and, when the chores were done, I went alone to the grain +barn in the back lot of the Senator's farm with flail and measure and +broom and fork and shovel and sacks and my luncheon, in a push cart, +with all of which Mrs. Wright had provided me. + +It was a lonely place with woods on three sides of the field and a road +on the other. I kept laying down beds of wheat on the barn-floor and +beating them out with the flail until the sun was well over the roof +when I sat down to eat my luncheon. Then I swept up the grain and +winnowed out the chaff and filled one of my sacks. That done, I covered +the floor again and the thump of the flail eased my loneliness until in +the middle of the afternoon two of my schoolmates came and asked me to +go swimming, with them. The river was not forty rods away and a good +trail led to the swimming hole. It was a warm bright day and I was hot +and thirsty. The thought of cool waters and friendly companionship was +too much for me. I went with them. + +More ancient than the human form is that joy of the young in the feel +of air and water on the naked skin, in the frog-like leap and splash and +the monkey-chatter of the swimming hole. There were a number of the +"swamp boys" in the water. They lived in cabins on the edges of the near +swamp. I stayed with them longer than I intended. I remember saying as I +dressed that I should have to work late and go without my supper in +order to finish my stent. + +It was almost dark when I was putting the last sack of wheat into my +cart, in the gloomy barn, and getting ready to go. + +A rustling in the straw near where I stood stopped me suddenly. My skin +prickled and began to stir on my head and my feet and hands felt numb +with a new fear. I heard stealthy footsteps in the darkness. I stood my +ground and demanded: + +"Who's there?" + +I saw a form approaching in the gloom with feet as noiseless as a cat's. +I took a step backward and, seeing that it was a woman, stopped. + +"It's Kate," the answer came in a hoarse whisper as I recognized her +form and staff. + +"Run, boy--they have just come out o' the woods. I saw them. They will +take you away. Run." + +She had picked up the flail and now she put it in my hands and gave me a +push toward the door. I ran, and none too quickly, for I had not gone +fifty feet from the barn in the stubble when I heard them coming after +me, whoever they were. I saw that they were gaining and turned quickly. +I had time to raise my flail and bring it down upon the head of the +leader, who fell as I had seen a beef fall under the ax. Another man +stopped beyond the reach of my flail and, after a second's hesitation, +turned and ran away in the darkness. + +I could hear or see no other motion in the field. I turned and ran on +down the slope toward the village. In a moment I saw some one coming out +of the maple grove at the field's end, just ahead, with a lantern. + +Then I heard the voice of the schoolmaster saying: + +"Is it you, my lad?" + +"Yes," I answered, as I came up to him and Mary, in a condition of +breathless excitement. + +I told them of the curious adventure I had had. + +"Come quick," said the schoolmaster. "Let's go back and find the man in +the stubble." + +I remembered that I had struck the path in my flight just before +stopping to swing the flail. The man must have fallen very near it. Soon +we found where he had been lying and drops of fresh blood on the +stubble. + +"Hush," said the schoolmaster. + +We listened and heard a wagon rattling at a wild pace down the road +toward the river. + +"There he goes," said Mr. Hacket. "His companions have carried him away. +Ye'd be riding in that wagon now, yerself, my brave lad, if ye hadn't +'a' made a lucky hit with the flail--God bless ye!" + +"What would they 'a' done with me?" I asked. + +"Oh, I reckon they'd 'a' took ye off, lad, and kep' ye for a year or so +until Amos was out o' danger," said Mr. Hacket. "Maybe they'd drowned ye +in the river down there an' left yer clothes on the bank to make it look +like an honest drowning. The devil knows what they'd 'a' done with ye, +laddie buck. We'll have to keep an eye on ye now, every day until the +trial is over--sure we will. Come, we'll go up to the barn and see if +Kate is there." + +Just then we heard the receding wagon go roaring over the bridge on +Little River. Mary shuddered with fright. The schoolmaster reassured us +by saying: + +"Don't be afraid. I brought my gun in case we'd meet a painter. But the +danger is past." + +He drew a long pistol from his coat pocket and held it in the light of +the lantern. + +The loaded cart stood in the middle of the barn floor, where I had left +it, but old Kate had gone. We closed the barn, drawing the cart along +with us. When we came into the edge of the village I began to reflect +upon the strange peril out of which I had so luckily escaped. It gave me +a heavy sense of responsibility and of the wickedness of men. + +I thought, of old Kate and her broken silence. For once I had heard her +speak. I could feel my flesh tingle when I thought of her quick words +and her hoarse passionate whisper. She must have come into the barn +while I was swimming and hidden behind the straw heap in the rear end of +it and watched the edge of the woods through the many cracks in the +boarding. + +I knew, or thought I knew, why she took such care of me. She was in +league with the gallows and could not bear to see it cheated of its +prey. For some reason she hated the Grimshaws. I had seen the hate in +her eyes the day she dogged along behind the old money-lender through +the streets of the village when her pointing finger had seemed to say to +me: "There, there is the man who has brought me to this. He has put +these rags upon my back, this fire in my heart, this wild look in my +eyes. Wait and you shall see what I will put upon him." + +I knew that old Kate was not the irresponsible, witless creature that +people thought her to be. I had begun to think of her with a kind of awe +as one gifted above all others. One by one the things she had said of +the future seemed to be coming true. + +When we had pulled the cart into the stable I tried to shift one of the +bags of grain and observed that my hands trembled and that it seemed +very heavy. + +As we were going into the house the schoolmaster said: + +"Now, Mary, you take this lantern and go across the street to the house +o' Deacon Binks, the constable. You'll find him asleep by the kitchen +stove. Arrest his slumbers, but not rudely, and, when he has come to, +tell him that I have news o' the devil." + +"This shows the power o' knowledge. Bart," he said to me when we entered +the house. + +I wondered what he meant and he went on: + +"You have knowledge of the shooting that no other man has. You could +sell it for any money ye would ask. Only ye can't sell it, now, because +it's about an evil thing. But suppose ye knew more than any other man +about the law o' contracts, or the science o' bridge building, or the +history o' nations or the habits o' bugs or whatever. Then ye become the +principal witness in a different kind o' case. Then it's proper to sell +yer knowledge for the good o' the world and they'll be as eager to get +it as they are what ye know about the shooting. And nobody'll want to +kill ye. Every man o' them'll want to keep ye alive. But mind, ye must +be the _principal witness_." + +Deacon Binks arrived, a fat man with a big round body and a very wise +and serious countenance between side whiskers bending from his temple to +his neck and suggesting parentheses of hair, as if his head and its +accessories were in the nature of a side issue. He and the schoolmaster +went out-of-doors and must have talked together while I was eating a +bowl of bread and milk which Mrs. Hacket had brought to me. + +When I went to bed, by and by, I heard somebody snoring on the little +porch under my window. The first sound that reached my ear at the break +of dawn was the snoring of the same sleeper. I dressed and went below +and found the constable in his coon-skin overcoat asleep on the porch +with a long-barreled gun at his side. While I stood there the +schoolmaster came around the corner of the house from the garden. He +smiled as he saw the deacon. + +"Talk about the placid rest of Egyptian gods!" he exclaimed. "Look at +the watchful eye o' Justice. How well she sleeps in this peaceful +valley! Sometimes ye can hardly wake her up at all, at all." + +He put his hand on the deacon's shoulder and gave him a little shake. + +"Awake, ye limb o' the law," he demanded. "Prayer is better than sleep." + +The deacon arose and stretched himself and cleared his throat and +assumed an air of alertness and said it was a fine morning, which it was +not, the sky being overcast and the air dank and chilly. He removed his +greatcoat and threw it on the stoop saying: + +"Deacon, you lay there. From now on I'm constable and ready for any act +that may be necessary to maintain the law. I can be as severe as +Napoleon Bonaparte and as cunning as Satan, if I have to be." + +I remember that through the morning's work the sleepy deacon and the +alert constable contended over the possession of his stout frame. + +The constable shouldered the gun and followed me into the pasture where +I went to get the cow. I saw now that his intention was to guard me from +further attacks. While I was milking, the deacon sat on a bucket in the +doorway of the stable and snored until I had finished. He awoke when I +loosed the cow and the constable went back to the pasture with me, +yawning with his hand over his mouth much of the way. The deacon leaned +his elbow on the top of the pen and snored again, lightly, while I mixed +the feed for the pigs. + +Mr. Hacket met us at the kitchen door, where Deacon Binks said to him: + +"If you'll look after the boy to-day, I'll go home and get a little +rest." + +"God bless yer soul, ye had a busy night," said the schoolmaster with a +smile. + +He added as he went into the house: + +"I never knew a man to rest with more energy and persistence. It was a +perfect flood o' rest. It kept me awake until long after midnight." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE SPIRIT OF MICHAEL HENRY AND OTHERS + + +That last peril is one of the half-solved mysteries of my life. The +following affidavit, secured by an assistant of the district attorney +from a young physician in a village above Ballybeen, never a matter of +record, heightened its interest for me and my friends. + + "Deponent saith that about eleven o'clock on the evening of the, + 24th of September (that on which the attack upon me was made) a man + unknown to him called at his office and alleged that a friend of + the stranger had been injured and was in need of surgical aid. He + further alleged that his friend was in trouble and being sought + after and that he, the caller, dared not, therefore, reveal the + place where his friend had taken refuge. He offered the deponent + the sum of ten dollars to submit to the process of blindfolding and + of being conducted to I said place for the purpose of giving relief + to the injured man. Whereupon the deponent declares that he + submitted to said process and was conducted by wagon and trail to a + bark shanty at some place in the woods unknown to him where the + bandage was removed from his eyes. He declares further that he + found there, a strong built, black-bearded man about thirty years + of age, and a stranger to him, lying on a bed of boughs in the + light of a fire and none other. This man was groaning in great pain + from a wound made by some heavy weapon on the side of his head. The + flesh of the cheek and ear were swollen and lacerated. Deponent + further declares that he administered an opiate and dressed and put + a number of stitches in the injured parts and bound them with a + bandage soaked in liniment. Then deponent returned to his home, + blindfolded as he had left it. He declares that the time consumed + in the journey from the shanty to his home was one hour and ten + minutes." + +It should be said that, in the theory of the district attorney the +effort to retire the principal witness, if, indeed, that were the +intention of their pursuit of me, originated in the minds of lawless and +irresponsible men. I know that there are those who find a joy in +creating mysteries and defeating the law, but let it be set down here +that I have never concurred in the views of that able officer. + +At the examination of Amos Grimshaw my knowledge was committed to the +records and ceased to be a source of danger to me. Grimshaw came to the +village that day. On my way to the court room I saw him walking slowly, +with bent head as I had seen him before, followed by old Kate. She +carried her staff in her left hand while the forefinger of her right +was pointing him out. Silent as a ghost and as unheeded--one would +say--she followed his steps. + +I remember when I went on the stand my eyes filled with tears. Amos gave +me an appealing look that went to my heart. It was hard for me to tell +the truth that day--never has it been so hard. If I had had the riches +of Grimshaw himself I would have given them to be relieved. Was there +nothing that I could do for Amos? + +I observed that old Kate sat on a front seat with her hand to her ear +and Grimshaw beside his lawyer at a big table and that when she looked +at him her lips moved in a strange unuttered whisper of her spirit. Her +face filled with joy as one damning detail after another came out in the +evidence. + +Aunt Deel and Uncle Peabody came to the village that day and sat in the +court room. They had dinner with us at the schoolmaster's, but I had +little chance to talk with them. Aunt Deel went up to my room with me +and slyly gave me some fresh cookies wrapped in a piece of newspaper +which she carried in a little basket bought from the Indians. + +"Here's somethin' else," she said. "I was keepin' 'em for +Chris'mas--ayes!--but it's so cold I guess ye better have 'em +now--ayes!" + +Then she gave me a pair of mittens with a red fringe around the +wristbands, and two pairs of socks. + +I remember that my uncle laughed at the jests of Mr. Hacket but said +little and was not, I thought, in good spirits. They went home before +the examination ended. + +The facts hereinbefore alleged, and others, were proven, for the tracks +fitted the shoes of Amos. The young man was held and presently indicted. +The time of his trial was not determined. + +I received much attention from young and old in the village after that, +for I found soon that I had acquired a reputation for bravery, of the +slender foundation for which the reader is well aware. I was invited to +many parties, but had not much heart for them and went only to one at +the home of Nettie Barrows. Sally was there. She came to me as if +nothing had interrupted our friendship and asked if I would play Hunt +the Squirrel with them. Of course I was glad to make this treaty of +peace, which was sealed with many kisses as we played together in those +lively games of the old time. I remember that I could think of nothing +in this world with which to compare her beauty. I asked if I could walk +home with her and she said that she was engaged, and while she was as +amiable as ever I came to know that night that a kind of wall had risen +between us. + +I wrote a good hand those days and the leading merchant of the village +engaged me to post his books every Saturday at ten cents an hour. +Thenceforward until Christmas I gave my free days to that task. I +estimated the sum that I should earn and planned to divide it in equal +parts and proudly present it to my aunt and uncle on Christmas day. + +One Saturday while I was at work on the big ledger of the merchant I ran +upon this item: + + October 3. S. Wright--To one suit of + clothes for Michael Henry + from measures furnished by + S. Robinson $14.30 + Shirts to match 1.70 + +I knew then the history of the suit of clothes which I had worn since +that rainy October night, for I remembered that Sam Robinson, the +tailor, had measured me at our house and made up the cloth of Aunt +Deel's weaving. + +I observed, also, that numerous articles--a load of wood, two sacks of +flour, three pairs of boots, one coat, ten pounds of salt pork and four +bushels of potatoes--all for "Michael Henry" had been charged to Silas +Wright. + +So by the merest chance I learned that the invisible "Michael Henry" was +the almoner of the modest statesman and really the spirit of Silas +Wright feeding the hungry and clothing the naked and warming the cold +house, in the absence of its owner. It was the heart of Wright joined to +that of the schoolmaster, which sat in the green chair. + +I fear that my work suffered a moment's interruption, for just then I +began to know the great heart of the Senator. Its warmth was in the +clothing that covered my back, its delicacy in the ignorance of those +who had shared its benefactions. + +I count this one of the great events of my youth. But there was a +greater one, although it seemed not so at the time of it. A traveler on +the road to Ballybeen had dropped his pocketbook containing a large +amount of money--two thousand seven hundred dollars was the sum, if I +remember rightly. He was a man who, being justly suspicious of the +banks, had withdrawn his money. Posters announced the loss and the offer +of a large reward. The village was profoundly stirred by them. Searching +parties went up the road stirring its dust and groping in its grass and +briers for the great prize which was supposed to be lying there. It was +said, however, that the quest had been unsuccessful. So the lost +pocketbook became a treasured mystery of the village and of all the +hills and valleys toward Ballybeen--a topic of old wives and gabbing +husbands at the fireside for unnumbered years. + +By and by the fall term of school ended. Uncle Peabody came down to get +me the day before Christmas. I had enjoyed my work and my life at the +Hackets', on the whole, but I was glad to be going home again. My uncle +was in high spirits and there were many packages in the sleigh. + +"A merry Christmas to ye both an' may the Lord love ye!" said Mr. Hacket +as he bade us good-by. "Every day our thoughts will be going up the +hills to your house." + +As he was tucking the blankets around my feet old Nick Tubbs came +zigzagging up the road from the tavern. + +"What stimulation travels with that man!" said the schoolmaster. "He +might be worse, God knows. Reeling minds are worse than reeling bodies. +Some men are born drunk like our friend Colonel Hand and that kind is +beyond reformation." + +The bells rang merrily as we hurried through the swamp in the hard snow +paths. + +"We're goin' to move," said my uncle presently. "We've agreed to get out +by the middle o' May." + +"How does that happen?" I asked. + +"I settled with Grimshaw and agreed to go. If it hadn't 'a' been for +Wright and Baldwin we wouldn't 'a' got a cent. They threatened to bid +against him at the sale. So he settled. We're goin' to have a new home. +We've bought a hundred an' fifty acres from Abe Leonard. Goin' to build +a new house in the spring. It will be nearer the village." + +He playfully nudged my ribs with his elbow. + +"We've had a little good luck, Bart," he went on. "I'll tell ye what it +is if you won't say anything about it." + +I promised. + +"I dunno as it would matter much," he continued, "but I don't want to do +any braggin'. It ain't anybody's business but ours, anyway. An old uncle +over in Vermont died three weeks ago and left us thirty-eight hundred +dollars. It was old Uncle Ezra Baynes o' Hinesburg. Died without a chick +or child. Your aunt and me slipped down to Potsdam an' took the stage +an' went over an' got the money. It was more money than I ever see +before in my life. We put it in the bank in Potsdam to keep it out o' +Grimshaw's hands. I wouldn't trust that man as fur as you could throw a +bull by the tail." + +It was a cold clear night and when we reached home the new stove was +snapping with the heat in its fire-box and the pudding puffing in the +pot and old Shep dreaming in the chimney corner. Aunt Deel gave me a hug +at the door. Shep barked and leaped to my shoulders. + +"Why, Bart! You're growin' like a weed--ain't ye?--ayes ye be," my aunt +said as she stood and looked at me. "Set right down here an' warm +ye--ayes!--I've done all the chores--ayes!" + +How warm and comfortable was the dear old room with those beloved faces +in it. I wonder if paradise itself can seem more pleasant to me. I have +had the best food this world can provide in my time, but never anything +that I ate with a keener relish than the pudding and milk and bread and +butter and cheese and pumpkin pie which Aunt Deel gave us that night. + +Supper over, I wiped the dishes for my aunt while Uncle Peabody went out +to feed and water the horses. Then we sat down in the genial warmth +while I told the story of my life in "the busy town," as they called it. +What pride and attention they gave me then! + +Three days before they had heard of my adventure with the flail, as to +which Mr. Hacket, the district attorney and myself had maintained the +strictest reticence. It seemed that the deacon had blabbed, as they used +to say, regarding his own brave part in the subsequent proceedings. + +My fine clothes and the story of how I had come by them taxed my +ingenuity somewhat, although not improperly. I had to be careful not to +let them know that I had been ashamed of the home-made suit. They, +somehow, felt the truth about it and a little silence followed the +story. Then Aunt Deel drew her chair near me and touched my hair very +gently and looked into my face without speaking. + +"Ayes! I know," she said presently, in a kind of caressing tone, with a +touch of sadness in it. "They ain't used to coarse homespun stuff down +there in the village. They made fun o' ye--didn't they, Bart?" + +"I don't care about that," I assured them. "'The mind's the measure of +the man,'" I quoted, remembering the lines the Senator had repeated to +me. + +"That's sound!" Uncle Peabody exclaimed with enthusiasm. + +Aunt Deel took my hand in hers and surveyed it thoughtfully for a moment +without speaking. + +"You ain't goin' to have to suffer that way no more," she said in a low +tone. + +I rose and went to the parlor door. + +"Ye mustn't go in there," she warned me. + +Delightful suspicions came out of the warning and their smiles. + +"We're goin' to be more comf'table--ayes," said Aunt Deel as I resumed +my chair. "Yer uncle thought we better go west, but I couldn't bear to +go off so fur an' leave mother an' father an' sister Susan an' all the +folks we loved layin' here in the ground alone--I want to lay down with +'em by an' by an' wait for the sound o' the trumpet--ayes!--mebbe it'll +be for thousands o' years--ayes!" + +"You don't suppose their souls are a-sleepin' there--do ye?" my uncle +asked. + +"That's what the Bible says," Aunt Deel answered. + +"Wal the Bible--?" Uncle Peabody stopped. What was in his mind we may +only imagine. + +To our astonishment the clock struck twelve. + +"Hurrah! It's merry Christmas!" said Uncle Peabody as he jumped to his +feet and began to sing of the little Lord Jesus. + +We joined him while he stood beating time with his right hand after the +fashion of a singing master. + +"Off with yer boots, friend!" he exclaimed when the stanza was finished. +"We don't have to set up and watch like the shepherds." + +We drew our boots on the chair round with hands clasped over the +knee--how familiar is the process, and yet I haven't seen it in more +than half a century! I lighted a candle and scampered up-stairs in my +stocking feet, Uncle Peabody following close and slapping my thigh as if +my pace were not fast enough for him. In the midst of our skylarking the +candle tumbled to the floor and I had to go back to the stove and +relight it. + +How good it seemed to be back in the old room under the shingles! The +heat of the stove-pipe had warmed its hospitality. + +"It's been kind o' lonesome here," said Uncle Peabody as he opened the +window. "I always let the wind come in to keep me company--it gits so +warm." + +I lay down between flannel sheets on the old feather bed. What a stage +of dreams and slumbers it had been, for it was now serving the third +generation of Bayneses! The old popple tree had thrown off its tinkling +cymbals and now the winter wind hissed and whistled in its stark +branches. Then the deep, sweet sleep of youth from which it is a joy and +a regret to come back to the world again. I wish that I could know it +once more. + +"Ye can't look at yer stockin' yit," said Aunt Deel when I came +down-stairs about eight o'clock, having slept through chore time. I +remember it was the delicious aroma of frying ham and buckwheat cakes +which awoke me, and who wouldn't rise and shake off the cloak of slumber +on a bright, cold winter morning with such provocation? + +"This ain't no common Chris'mas--I tell ye," Aunt Deel went on. "Santa +Claus won't git here short o' noon I wouldn't wonder--ayes!" + +"By thunder!" exclaimed Uncle Peabody as he sat down at the table. "This +is goin' to be a day o' pure fun--genuwine an' uncommon. Take some +griddlers," he added as three or four of them fell on my plate. "Put on +plenty o' ham gravy an' molasses. This ain't no Jackman tavern. I got +hold o' somethin' down there that tasted so I had to swaller twice on +it." + +About eleven o'clock Uncle Hiram and Aunt Eliza and their five children +arrived with loud and merry greetings. Then came other aunts and uncles +and cousins. With what noisy good cheer the men entered the house after +they had put up their horses! I remember how they laid their hard, heavy +hands on my head and shook it a little as they spoke of my "stretchin' +up" or gave me a playful slap on the shoulder--an ancient token of good +will--the first form of the accolade, I fancy. What joyful good humor +there was in those simple men and women!--enough to temper the woes of a +city if it could have been applied to their relief. They stood thick +around the stove warming themselves and taking off its griddles and +opening its doors and surveying it inside and out with much curiosity. + +Suddenly Uncle Hiram tried to put Uncle Jabez in the wood-box while the +others laughed noisily. I remember that my aunts rallied me on my +supposed liking for "that Dunkelberg girl." + +"Now for the Chris'mas tree," said Uncle Peabody as he led the way into +our best room, where a fire was burning in the old Franklin grate. "Come +on, boys an' girls." + +What a wonderful sight was the Christmas tree--the first we had had in +our house--a fine spreading balsam loaded with presents! Uncle Hiram +jumped into the air and clapped his feet together and shouted: "Hold me, +somebody, or I'll grab the hull tree an' run away with it." + +Uncle Jabez held one foot in both hands before him and joyfully hopped +around the tree. + +These relatives had brought their family gifts, some days before, to be +hung on its branches. The thing that caught my eye was a big silver +watch hanging by a long golden chain to one of the boughs. Uncle Peabody +took it down and held it aloft by the chain, so that none should miss +the sight, saying: + +"From Santa Claus for Bart!" + +A murmur of admiration ran through the company which gathered around me +as I held the treasure in my trembling hands. + +"This is for Bart, too," Uncle Peabody shouted as he took down a bolt of +soft blue cloth and laid it in my arms. "Now there's somethin' that's +jest about as slick as a kitten's ear. Feel of it. It's for a suit o' +clothes. Come all the way from Burlington." + +"Good land o' Goshen! Don't be in such a hurry," said Aunt Deel. + +"Sorry, but the stage can't wait for nobody at all--it's due to leave +right off," Uncle Peabody remarked as he laid a stuffed stocking on top +of the cloth and gave me a playful slap and shouted: "Get-ap, there. +You've got yer load." + +I moved out of the way in a hurricane of merriment. It was his one great +day of pride and vanity. He did not try to conceal them. + +The other presents floated for a moment in this irresistible tide of +laughing good will and found their owners. I have never forgotten how +Uncle Jabez chased Aunt Minerva around the house with a wooden snake +cunningly carved and colored. I observed there were many things on the +tree which had not been taken down when we younger ones gathered up our +wealth and repaired to Aunt Deel's room to feast our eyes upon it and +compare our good fortune. + +The women and the big girls rolled up their sleeves and went to work +with Aunt Deel preparing the dinner. The great turkey and the chicken +pie were made ready and put in the oven and the potatoes and the onions +and the winter squash were soon boiling in their pots on the stove-top. +Meanwhile the children were playing in my aunt's bedroom and Uncle Hiram +and Uncle Jabez were pulling sticks in a corner while the other men sat +tipped against the wall watching and making playful comments--all save +my Uncle Peabody, who was trying to touch his head to the floor and then +straighten up with the aid of the broomstick. + +By and by I sat on top of the wood with which I had just filled the big +wood-box and very conscious of the shining chain on my breast. Suddenly +the giant, Rodney Barnes, jumped out of his chair and, embracing the +wood-box, lifted it and the wood and me in his great arms and danced +lightly around a group of the ladies with his burden and set it down in +its place again very gently. What a hero he became in my eyes after +that! + +"If ye should go off some day an' come back an' find yer house missin' +ye may know that Rodney Barnes has been here," said Uncle Hiram. "A man +as stout as Rodney is about as dangerous as a fire." + +Then what Falstaffian peals of laughter! + +In the midst of it Aunt Deel opened the front door and old Kate, the +Silent Woman, entered. To my surprise, she wore a decent-looking dress +of gray homespun cloth and a white cloud looped over her head and ears +and tied around her neck and a good pair of boots. + +"Merry Chris'mas!" we all shouted. + +She smiled and nodded her head and sat down in the chair which Uncle +Peabody had placed for her at the stove side. Aunt Deel took the cloud +off her head while Kate drew her mittens--newly knitted of the best +yarn. Then my aunt brought some stockings and a shawl from the tree and +laid them on the lap of old Kate. What a silence fell upon us as we saw +tears coursing down the cheeks of this lonely old woman of the +countryside!--tears of joy, doubtless, for God knows how long it had +been since the poor, abandoned soul had seen a merry Christmas and +shared its kindness. I did not fail to observe how clean her face and +hands looked! She was greatly changed. + +She took my hand as I went to her side and tenderly caressed it. A +gentler smile came to her face than ever I had seen upon it. The old +stern look returned for a moment as she held one finger aloft in a +gesture which only I and my Aunt Deel understood. We knew it signalized +a peril and a mystery. That I should have to meet it, somewhere up the +hidden pathway, I had no doubt whatever. + +"Dinner's ready!" exclaimed the cheerful voice of Aunt Deel. + +Then what a stirring of chairs and feet as we sat down at the table. Old +Kate sat by the side of my aunt and we were all surprised at her good +manners. + +Uncle Jabez--a member of the white church--prayed for a moment as we sat +with bowed heads. I have never forgotten his simple eloquence as he +prayed for the poor and for him who was sitting in the shadow of death +(I knew that he referred to Amos Grimshaw and whispered amen) and for +our forgiveness. + +We jested and laughed and drank cider and reviewed the year's history +and ate as only they may eat who have big bones and muscles and the +vitality of oxen. I never taste the flavor of sage and currant jelly or +hear a hearty laugh without thinking of those holiday dinners in the old +log house on Rattleroad. + +Some of the men and two of the women filled their pipes and smoked while +the dishes were being picked up and washed. By and by the men and the +big boys went with us down to the brook where we chopped holes in the +ice to give the sheep and the cattle a chance to drink. Then they looked +at the horses. + +"Peabody you mus' be gittin' rich," said Hiram Bentley. + +"No I ain't. I've had to give up here, but a little windfall come to us +t'other day from an old uncle in Vermont. It ain't nothin' to brag of, +but it'll give us a start an' we thought that while we had the money +we'd do somethin' that we've been wantin' to do for years an' +years--give a Chris'mas--an' we've done it. The money'll go some way an' +we may never have another chance. Bart is a good boy an' we made up our +minds he'd enjoy it better now than he ever would ag'in." + +That Christmas brought me nothing better than those words, the memory of +which is one of the tallest towers in that long avenue of my past down +which I have been looking these many days. About all you can do for a +boy, worth while, is to give him something good to remember. + +The day had turned dark. The temperature had risen and the air was dank +and chilly. The men began to hitch up their horses. + +"Kind o' thawin' a little," said Uncle Hiram as he got into his sleigh +and drove up to the door. "Come on, there. Stop yer cacklin' an' git +into this sleigh," he shouted in great good humor to the women and +children who stood on the porch. "It'll be snowin' like sixty 'fore we +git home." + +So, one by one, the sleighloads left us with cheery good-bys and a +grinding of runners and a jingling of bells. When the last had gone +Uncle Peabody and I went into the house. Aunt Deel sat by the stove, old +Kate by the window looking out at the falling dusk. How still the house +seemed! + +"There's one thing I forgot," I said as I proudly took out of my wallet +the six one-dollar bills which I had earned by working Saturdays and +handed three of them to my aunt and three to my uncle, saying: + +"That is my Christmas present to you. I earned it myself." + +I remember so well their astonishment and the trembling of their hands +and the look of their faces. + +"It's grand--ayes!" Aunt Deel said in a low tone. + +She rose in a moment and beckoned to me and my uncle. We followed her +through the open door to the other room. + +"I'll tell ye what I'd do," she whispered. "I'd give 'em to ol' +Kate--ayes! She's goin' to stay with us till to-morrow." + +"Good idee!" said Uncle Peabody. + +So I took the money out of their hands and went in and gave it to the +Silent Woman. + +"That's your present from me," I said. + +How can I forget how she held my arm against her with that loving, +familiar, rocking motion of a woman who is soothing a baby at her breast +and kissed my coat sleeve? She released my arm and, turning to the +window, leaned her head upon its sill and shook with sobs. The dusk had +thickened. As I returned to my seat by the stove I could dimly see her +form against the light of the window. We sat in silence for a little +while. + +Aunt Deel broke it by singing in a low tone as she rocked: + + "My days are passing swiftly by + And I--a pilgrim stranger-- + Would not detain them as they fly, + These days of toil and danger." + +Uncle Peabody rose and got a candle and lighted it at the hearth. + +"Wal, Bart, we'll do the chores, an' then I warn ye that we're goin' to +have some fun," he said as he got his lantern. "There's goin' to be some +Ol' Sledge played here this evenin' an' I wouldn't wonder if Kate could +beat us all." + +I held the lantern while Uncle Peabody fed the sheep and the two cows +and milked--a slight chore these winter days. + +"There's nothing so cold on earth as a fork stale on a winter night," he +remarked as he was pitching the hay. "Wish I'd brought my mittens." + +"You and I are to go off to bed purty early," he said as we were going +back to the house. "Yer Aunt Deel wants to see Kate alone and git her to +talk if she can." + +Kate played with us, smiling now and then at my uncle's merry ways and +words, but never speaking. It was poor fun, for the cards seemed to take +her away from us into other scenes so that she had to be reminded of her +turn to play. + +"I dunno but she'll swing back into this world ag'in," said Uncle +Peabody when we had gone up to our little room. "I guess all she needs +is to be treated like a human bein'. Yer Aunt Deel an' I couldn't git +over thinkin' o' what she done for you that night in the ol' barn. So I +took some o' yer aunt's good clothes to her an' a pair o' boots an' +asked her to come to Chris'mas. She lives in a little room over the +blacksmith shop down to Butterfield's mill. I told her I'd come after +her with the cutter but she shook her head. I knew she'd rather walk." + +He was yawning as he spoke and soon we were both asleep under the +shingles. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE THING AND OTHER THINGS + + +I returned to Mr. Hacket's house late in the afternoon of New Year's +day. The schoolmaster was lying on a big lounge in a corner of their +front room with the children about him. The dusk was falling. + +"Welcome, my laddie buck!" he exclaimed as I entered. "We're telling +stories o' the old year an' you're just in time for the last o' them. +Sit down, lad, and God give ye patience! It'll soon be over." + +Little John led me into the group and the schoolmaster began:--Let us +call this bit of a story: _The Guide to Paradise_. + +"One day in early June I was lyin' under the big apple tree in the +garden--sure I was. It was all white and sweet with the blossoms like a +bride in her veil--an' I heard the hum o' the bee's wing an' odors o' +the upper world come down to me. I was lookin' at the little bird house +that we had hung in the tree-top. Of a sudden I saw a tiny bit o' a +'warf--no longer than the thumb o' Mary--God love her!--on its wee porch +an' lookin' down at me. + +"'Good luck to ye!' says I. 'Who are you?' + +"'Who do ye think I am?' says he. + +"'Nobody,' says I. + +"'That's just who I am,' says he, 'I'm Nobody from Nowhere--God save you +from the like.' + +"'Glad to see ye,' says I. + +"'Glad to be seen,' says he. 'There's a mighty few people can see me.' + +"'Looks to me as if ye were tellin' the truth,' says I. + +"'Nobody is the only one that always tells the truth--God help ye,' says +he. 'And here's a big chunk o' it. Not one in a thousand ever gets the +feet o' his mind in the land o' Nowhere--better luck to them!' + +"'Where is it?' says I. + +"'Up above the earth where the great God keeps His fiddle,' says he. + +"'What fiddle?' says I. + +"'The fiddle o' silence,' says he. 'Sure, I'm playin' it now. It has +long strings o' gold that reach 'way out across the land o' Nowhere--ye +call 'em stars. The winds and the birds play on it. Sure, the birds are +my hens.' + +"He clapped his little hands and down came a robin and sat beside him. +Nobody rumpled up the feathers on her back and she queed like she was +goin' to peck me--the hussy! + +"'She's my watch hen,' says Nobody. 'Guards the house and lays eggs for +me--the darlin'! Sure, I've a wonderful farm up here in the +air--millions o' acres, and the flowers and the tops o' the trees and +the gold mines o' the sky are in it. The flowers are my cattle and the +bees are my hired men. Do ye see 'em milkin' this big herd o' +apple-blossoms? My hired men carry their milk away to the hollow trees +and churn it into honey. There's towers and towers of it in the land o' +Nowhere. If it wasn't for Nowhere your country would be as dark as a +pocket and as dry as dust--sure it would. Somewhere must be next to +Nowhere--or it wouldn't be anywhere, I'm thinkin'. All the light and +rain and beauty o' the world come out o' Nowhere--don't they? We have +the widest ocean up here with wonderful ships. I call it God's ferry. Ye +see, Nowhere is not to be looked down upon just because ye don't find it +in Mary's geography. There's lots o' things ye don't know, man. I'm one +o' them. What do ye think o' me?' + +"'Sure, I like ye,' says I. + +"'Lucky man!' says he. 'Everybody must learn to like me an' play with me +as the children do. I can get along with the little folks, but it's hard +to teach men how to play with me--God pity them! They forget how to +believe. I am the guide to paradise and unless ye become as a little +child I can not lead ye.' + +"He ran to the edge o' the tree roof and took hold o' the end of a long +spider's rope hangin' down in the air. In a jiffy he swung clear o' the +tree and climbed, hand over hand, until he had gone awa-a-a-a-y out o' +sight in the sky." + + * * * * * + +"Couldn't anybody do that?" said little John. + +"I didn't say they could--did I? ye unbeliever!" said the schoolmaster +as he rose and led us in to the supper table. "I said Nobody did it." + +We got him to tell this little tale over and over again in the days that +followed, and many times since then that impersonal and mysterious guide +of the schoolmaster's fancy has led me to paradise. + +After supper he got out his boxing-gloves and gave me a lesson in the +art of self-defense, in which, I was soon to learn, he was highly +accomplished, for we had a few rounds together every day after that. He +keenly enjoyed this form of exercise and I soon began to. My capacity +for taking punishment without flinching grew apace and before long I got +the knack of countering and that pleased him more even than my work in +school, I have sometimes thought. + +"God bless ye, boy!" he exclaimed one day after I had landed heavily on +his cheek, "ye've a nice way o' sneakin' in with yer right. I've a +notion ye may find it useful some day." + +I wondered a little why he should say that, and while I was wondering he +felled me with a stinging blow on my nose. + +"Ah, my lad--there's the best thing I have seen ye do--get up an' come +back with no mad in ye," he said as he gave me his hand. + +One day the schoolmaster called the older boys to the front seats in his +room and I among them. + +"Now, boys, I'm going to ask ye what ye want to do in the world," he +said. "Don't be afraid to tell me what ye may never have told before and +I'll do what I can to help ye." + +He asked each one to make confession and a most remarkable exhibit of +young ambition was the result. I remember that most of us wanted to be +statesmen--a fact due probably to the shining example of Silas Wright. +Then he said that on a certain evening he would try "to show us the way +over the mountains." + +For some months I had been studying a book just published, entitled, +_Stenographic Sound-Hand_ and had learned its alphabet and practised the +use of it. That evening I took down the remarks of Mr. Hacket in +sound-hand. + +The academy chapel was crowded with the older boys and girls and the +town folk. The master never clipped his words in school as he was wont +to do when talking familiarly with the children. + +"Since the leaves fell our little village has occupied the center of the +stage before an audience of millions in the great theater of congress. +Our leading citizen--the chief actor--has been crowned with immortal +fame. We who watched the play were thrilled by the query: Will Uncle Sam +yield to temptation or cling to honor? He has chosen the latter course +and we may still hear the applause in distant galleries beyond the sea. +He has decided that the public revenues must be paid in honest money. + +"My friend and classmate, George Bancroft, the historian, has written +this letter to me out of a full heart: + + "'Your fellow townsman, Silas Wright, is now the largest figure in + Washington. We were all worried by the resolution of Henry Clay + until it began to crumble under the irresistible attack of Mr. + Wright. On the 16th he submitted a report upon it which for lucid + and accurate statements presented in the most unpretending manner, + won universal admiration and will be remembered alike for its + intrinsic excellence and for having achieved one of the most + memorable victories ever gained in the United States Senate. After + a long debate Clay himself, compelled by the irresistible force of + argument in the report of Mr. Wright, was obliged to retire from + his position, his resolution having been rejected by a vote of 44 + to 1.'" + +With what pride and joy I heard of this great thing that my friend had +accomplished! The schoolmaster went on: + +"It is a very good and proper thing, my boys, that you should be +inspired by the example of the great man, whose home is here among us +and whose beloved face is as familiar as my own, to try your talents in +the service of the state. There are certain things that I would have you +remember. + +"_First_--Know your subject-inside and outside and round about and from +beginning to end. + +"_Second_--Know the opinions of wise men and your own regarding it. + +"_Third_--Be modest in the use of your own opinions and above all be +honest. + +"_Fourth_--Remember that it is your subject and not yourself that is of +prime importance. You will be tempted to think that you are the great +part of the business. My young friends, it will not be true. It can not +be true. It is not _you_ but _the thing you stand for_ that is +important. + +"_Fifth_--The good of all the people must be the thing you stand +for--the United States of America. + +"Now I wish you to observe how our great fellow townsman keeps his +subject to the fore and himself in the background. + +"It was in 1834 that he addressed the Senate regarding the deposits of +public money. He rose to voice the wishes of the people of this state. +If he had seemed to be expressing his own opinions he would have missed +his great point. Now mark how he cast himself aside when he began: + + "'I must not be understood as, for one moment, entertaining the + vain impression that opinions and views pronounced by me, here or + elsewhere, will acquire any importance because they are my opinions + and views. I know well, sir, that my name carries not with it + authority anywhere, but I know, also, that so far as I may + entertain and shall express opinions which are, or which shall be + found, in accord with the enlightened public opinion of this + country, so far they will be sustained and no further.' + +"Then by overwhelming proof he set forth the opinion of our people on +the subject in hand. Studiously the Senator has hidden himself in his +task and avoided in every possible way attracting attention from his +purposes to his personality. + +"Invitations to accept public dinners as a compliment to himself have +received from him this kind of reply: + + "'A proper attention to the duties, on the discharge of which you + so kindly desire to compliment me requires that I should decline + your invitation.'" + +All this was new to me, although much more was said touching his love +for simple folk regarding which I needed no instruction. Altogether, it +helped me to feel the deep foundations on which my friend, the Senator, +had been building in his public life. + +Going out with the crowd that evening, I met Sally and Mr. and Mrs. +Dunkelberg. The latter did not speak to me and when I asked Sally if I +could walk home with her she answered curtly, "No, thank you." + +In following the schoolmaster I have got a bit ahead of my history. Soon +after the opening of the new year--ten days or so later it may have +been--I had begun to feel myself encompassed by a new and subtle force. +It was a thing as intangible as heat but as real as fire and more +terrible, it seemed to me. I felt it first in the attitude of my play +fellows. They denied me the confidence and intimacy which I had enjoyed +before. They whispered together in my presence. In all this I had not +failed to observe that Henry Wills had taken a leading part. The +invisible, inaudible, mysterious thing wrought a great change in me. It +followed me through the day and lay down with me at night. I wondered +what I had done. I carefully surveyed my clothes. They looked all right +to me. My character was certainly no worse than it had been. How it +preyed upon my peace and rest and happiness--that mysterious hidden +thing! + +One day Uncle Peabody came down to see me and I walked through the +village with him. We met Mr. Dunkelberg, who merely nodded and hurried +along. Mr. Bridges, the merchant, did not greet him warmly and chat with +him as he had been wont to do. I saw that The Thing--as I had come to +think of it--was following him also. How it darkened his face! Even now +I can feel the aching of the deep, bloodless wounds of that day. I could +bear it better alone. We were trying to hide our pain from each other +when we said good-by. How quickly my uncle turned away and walked toward +the sheds! He came rarely to the village of Canton after that. + +I was going home at noon one day and while passing a crowd of boys I was +shoved rudely into the fence. Turning, I saw Henry Wills and my fist +flashed to his face. He fell backward and rising called me a thief and +the son of a thief. He had not finished the words when I was upon him. +The others formed a ring around us and we began a savage battle. One of +Wills' friends tried to trip me. In the midst of it I saw the +schoolmaster just outside the ring. He seized a boy by the collar. + +"There'll be no more interference," said he. "It's goin' to be a fair +fight." + +I had felt another unfriendly foot but had not seen its owner. We fought +up and down, with lips and noses bleeding. At last the time had come +when I was quicker and stronger than he. Soon Henry Wills lay on the +ground before me with no disposition to go on with the fight. I helped +him up and he turned away from me. Some of the boys began to jeer him. + +"He's a gentleman compared with the rest o' you," I said. "He had +courage enough to say what he thought. There's not another one o' you +would dare do it--not a one o' you." + +Then said the schoolmaster: + +"If there's any more o' you boys that has any such opinion o' Bart +Baynes let him be man enough to step up an' say it now. If he don't he +ought to be man enough to change his mind on the spot." + +A number of the boys and certain of the townsfolk who had gathered about +us clapped their hands. For a long time thereafter I wondered why Henry +had called me a thief. I concluded that it was because "thief" was the +meanest word he could think of in his anger. However that might be, The +Thing forsook me. I felt no more its cold, mysterious shadow between me +and my school fellows. It had stepped out of my path into that of Henry +Wills. His popularity waned and a lucky circumstance it was for him. +From that day he began to take to his books and to improve his standing +in the school. + +I observed that he did not go about with Sally as he had done. I had had +no word with her since the night of Mr. Hacket's lecture save the +briefest greeting as we passed each other in the street. Those fine +winter days I used to see her riding a chestnut pony with a long silver +mane that flowed back to her yellow curls in his lope. I loved the look +of her as she went by me in the saddle and a longing came into my heart +that she should think well of me. I made an odd resolve. It was this: I +would make it impossible for her to think ill of me. + +I went home one Saturday, having thought much of my aunt and uncle since +The Thing had descended upon us. I found them well and as cheerful as +ever. For fear of disturbing their peace I said nothing of my fight with +Wills or the cause of it. Uncle Peabody had cut the timber for our new +house and hauled it to the mill. I returned to school in a better mind +about them. + +May had returned--a warm bright May. The roads were dry. The thorn trees +had thatched their shapely roofs with vivid green. The maple leaves were +bigger than a squirrel's foot, which meant as well, I knew, that the +trout were jumping. The robins had returned. I had entered my +seventeenth year and the work of the term was finished. + +[Illustration: She stopped the pony and leaned toward me.] + +Having nothing to do one afternoon, I walked out on the road toward +Ogdensburg for a look at the woods and fields. Soon I thought that I +heard the sound of galloping hoofs behind me. Turning, I saw nothing, +but imagined Sally coming and pulling up at my side. I wondered what I +should say if she were really to come. + +"Sally!" I exclaimed. "I have been looking at the violets and the green +fields and back there I saw a thorn tree turning white, but I have seen +no fairer thing than you." + +They surprised me a little--those fine words that came so easily. What a +school of talk was the house I lived in those days! + +"I guess I'm getting Mr. Hacket's gift o' gab," I said to myself. + +Again I heard the sound of galloping hoofs and as I looked back I saw +Sally rounding the turn by the river and coming toward me at full speed, +the mane of her pony flying back to her face. She pulled up beside me +just as I had imagined she would do. + +"Bart, I hate somebody terribly," said she. + +"Whom?" + +"A man who is coming to our house on the stage to-day. Granny Barnes is +trying to get up a match between us. Father says he is rich and hopes he +will want to marry me. I got mad about it. He is four years older than I +am. Isn't that awful? I am going to be just as mean and hateful to him +as I can." + +"I guess they're only fooling you," I said. + +"No, they mean it. I have heard them talking it over." + +"He can not marry you." + +"Why?" + +It seemed to me that the time had come for me to speak out, and with +burning cheeks I said: + +"Because I think that God has married you to me already. Do you remember +when we kissed each other by the wheat-field one day last summer?" + +"Yes." She was looking down at the mane of her pony and her cheeks were +red and her voice reminded me of the echoes that fill the cavern of a +violin when a string is touched. + +"Seems to me we were married that day. Seems so, every time I think of +it, God asked me all the questions an' I answered yes to 'em. Do ye +remember after we had kissed each other how that little bird sang?" + +"Yes." + +We had faced about and were walking back toward Canton, I close by the +pony's side. + +"May I kiss you again?" + +She stopped the pony and leaned toward me and our lips met in a kiss the +thought of which makes me lay down my pen and bow my head a moment while +I think with reverence of that pure, sweet spring of memory in whose +waters I love to wash my spirit. + +We walked on and a song sparrow followed us perching on the fence-rails +and blessing us with his song. + +"I guess God has married us again," I declared. + +"I knew that you were walking on this road and I had to see you," said +she. "People have been saying such terrible things." + +"What?" + +"They say your uncle found the pocketbook that was lost and kept the +money. They say he was the first man that went up the road after it was +lost." + +Now The Thing stood uncovered before me in all its ugliness--The Thing +born not of hate but of the mere love of excitement in people wearied by +the dull routine and the reliable, plodding respectability of that +countryside. The crime of Amos had been a great help in its way but as a +topic it was worn out and would remain so until court convened. + +"It's a lie--my uncle never saw the pocketbook. Some money was left to +him by a relative in Vermont. That's how it happened that he bought a +farm instead of going to the poorhouse when Grimshaw put the screws on +him." + +"I knew that your uncle didn't do it," she went on. "Father and mother +couldn't tell you. So I had to." + +"Why couldn't your father and mother tell me?" + +"They didn't dare. Mr. Grimshaw made them promise that they would not +speak to you or to any of your family. I heard them say that you and +your uncle did right. Father told mother that he never knew a man so +honest as your Uncle Peabody." + +We went on in silence for a moment. + +"I guess you know now why I couldn't let you go home with me that +night," she remarked. + +"Yes, and I think I know why you wouldn't have anything more to do with +Henry Wills." + +"I hate him. He said such horrid things about you and your uncle." + +In a moment she asked: "What time is it?" + +I looked at my new watch and answered: "It wants ten minutes of five." + +"The stage is in long ago. They will be coming up this road to meet me. +Father was going to take him for a walk before supper." + +Just then we came upon the Silent Woman sitting among the dandelions by +the roadside. She held a cup in her hand with some honey on its bottom +and covered with a piece of glass. + +"She is hunting bees," I said as we stopped beside her. + +She rose and patted my shoulder with a smile and threw a kiss to Sally. +Suddenly her face grew stern. She pointed toward the village and then at +Sally. Up went her arm high above her head with one finger extended in +that ominous gesture so familiar to me. + +"She means that there is some danger ahead of you," I said. + +The Silent Woman picked a long blade of grass and tipped its end in the +honey at the bottom of the cup. She came close to Sally with the blade +of grass between her thumb and finger. + +"She is fixing a charm," I said. + +She smiled and nodded as she put a drop of honey on Sally's upper lip. + +She held up her hands while her lips moved as if she were blessing us. + +"I suppose it will not save me if I brush it off," said Sally. + +We went on and in a moment a bee lighted on the honey. Nervously she +struck at it and then cried out with pain. + +"The bee has stung you," I said. + +She covered her face with her handkerchief and made no answer. + +"Wait a minute--I'll get some clay," I said as I ran to the river bank. + +I found some clay and moistened it with the water and returned. + +"There, look at me!" she groaned. "The bee hit my nose." + +She uncovered her face, now deformed almost beyond recognition, her nose +having swollen to one of great size and redness. + +"You look like Rodney Barnes," I said with a laugh as I applied the clay +to her afflicted nose. + +"And I feel like the old boy. I think my nose is trying to jump off and +run away." + +The clay having been well applied she began surveying herself with a +little hand mirror which she had carried in the pocket of her riding +coat. + +"What a fright I am!" she mused. + +"But you are the best girl in the world." + +"Don't waste your pretty talk on me now. I can't enjoy it--my nose aches +so. I'd rather you'd tell me when--when it is easier for you to say it." + +"We don't see each other very often." + +"If you will come out on this road next Saturday afternoon I will ride +until I find you and then we can have another talk." + +"All right. I'll be here at four-thirty and I'll be thinking about it +every day until then." + +"My nose feels better now," she said presently and added: "You might +tell me a little more if you want to." + +"I love you even when you have ceased to be beautiful," I said with the +ardor of the young. + +"That is grand! You know old age will sting us by and by, Bart," she +answered with a sigh and in a tone of womanly wisdom. + +We were nearing the village. She wiped the mud from her prodigious nose +and I wet her handkerchief in a pool of water and helped her to wash it. +Soon we saw two men approaching us in the road. In a moment I observed +that one was Mr. Horace Dunkelberg; the other a stranger and a +remarkably handsome young man he was, about twenty-two years of age and +dressed in the height of fashion. I remember so well his tall, athletic +figure, his gray eyes, his small dark mustache and his admirable +manners. Both were appalled at the look of Sally. + +"Why, girl, what has happened to you?" her father asked. + +Then I saw what a playful soul was Sally's. The girl was a born actress. + +"Been riding in the country," said she. "Is this Mr. Latour?" + +"This is Mr. Latour, Sally," said her father. + +They shook hands. + +"I am glad to see you," said the stranger. + +"They say I am worth seeing," said Sally. "This is my friend, Mr. +Baynes. When you are tired of seeing me, look at him." + +I shook the hand he offered me. + +"Of course, we can't all be good looking," Sally remarked with a sigh, +as if her misfortune were permanent. + +Mr. Horace Dunkelberg and I laughed heartily--for I had told him in a +whisper what had happened to Sally--while Mr. Latour looked a little +embarrassed. + +"My face is not beautiful, but they say that I have a good heart," Sally +assured the stranger. + +They started on. I excused myself and took a trail through the woods to +another road. Just there, with Sally waving her hand to me as I stood +for a moment in the edge of the woods, the curtain falls on this highly +romantic period of my life. + +Uncle Peabody came for me that evening. It was about the middle of the +next week that I received this letter from Sally: + + "DEAR BART--Mr. Latour gave up and drove to Potsdam in the evening. + Said he had to meet Mr. Parish. I think that he had seen enough of + me. I began to hope he would stay--he was so good looking, but + mother is very glad that he went, and so am I, for our minister + told us that he is one of the wickedest young men in the state. He + is very rich and very bad, they say. I wonder if old Kate knew + about him. Her charm worked well anyway--didn't it? My nose was all + right in the morning. Sorry that I can't meet you Saturday. Mother + and I are packing up to go away for the summer. Don't forget me. I + shall be thinking every day of those lovely things you said to me. + I don't know what they will try to do with me, and I don't care. I + really think as you do, Bart, that God has married us to each + other. + + "Yours forever, + SALLY DUNKELBERG." + +How often I read those words--so like all the careless words of the +young! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE BOLT FALLS + + +Three times that winter I had seen Benjamin Grimshaw followed by the +Silent Woman clothed in rags and pointing with her finger. Mr. Hacket +said that she probably watched for him out of her little window above +the blacksmith shop that overlooked the south road. When he came to town +she followed. I always greeted the woman when I passed her, but when she +was on the trail of the money-lender she seemed unaware of my presence, +so intent was she on the strange task she had set herself. If he were +not in sight she smiled when passing me, but neither spoke nor nodded. + +Grimshaw had gone about his business as usual when I saw him last, but I +had noted a look of the worried rat in his face. He had seemed to be +under extreme irritation. He scolded every man who spoke to him. The +notion came to me that her finger was getting down to the quick. + +The trial of Amos came on. He had had "blood on his feet," as they used +to say, all the way from Lickitysplit to Lewis County in his flight, +having attacked and slightly wounded two men with a bowie knife who had +tried to detain him at Rainy Lake. He had also shot at an officer in the +vicinity of Lowville, where his arrest was effected. He had been +identified by all these men, and so his character as a desperate man had +been established. This in connection with the scar on his face and the +tracks, which the boots of Amos fitted, and the broken gun stock +convinced the jury of his guilt. + +The most interesting bit of testimony which came out at the trial was +this passage from a yellow paper-covered tale which had been discovered +hidden in the haymow of the Grimshaw barn: + + "Lightfoot waited in the bushes with his trusty rifle in hand. When + the two unsuspecting travelers reached a point nearly opposite him + he raised his rifle and glanced over its shining barrel and saw + that the flight of his bullet would cut the throats of both his + persecutors. He pulled the trigger and the bullet sped to its mark. + Both men plunged to the ground as if they had been smitten by a + thunderbolt. Lightfoot leaped from cover and seized the rearing + horses, and mounting one of them while he led the other, headed + them down the trail, and in no great hurry, for he knew that the + lake was between him and Blodgett and that the latter's boat was in + no condition to hold water." + +It was the swift and deadly execution of Lightfoot which Amos had been +imitating, as he presently confessed. + +I knew then the power of words--even foolish words--over the minds of +the young when they are printed and spread abroad. + +I remember well the look of the venerable Judge Cady as he pronounced +the sentence of death upon Amos Grimshaw. A ray of sunlight slanting +through a window in the late afternoon fell upon his gracious +countenance, shining also, with the softer light of his spirit. Slowly, +solemnly, kindly, he spoke the words of doom. It was his way of saying +them that first made me feel the dignity and majesty of the law. The +kind and fatherly tone of his voice put me in mind of that Supremest +Court which is above all question and which was swiftly to enter +judgment in this matter and in others related to it. + +Slowly the crowd moved out of the court room. Benjamin Grimshaw rose and +calmly whispered to his lawyer. He had not spoken to his son or seemed +to notice him since the trial had begun, nor did he now. Many had shed +tears that day, but not he. Mr. Grimshaw never showed but one +emotion--that of anger. He was angry now. His face was hard and stern. +He muttered as he walked out of the court room, his cane briskly beating +the floor. I and others followed him, moved by differing motives. I was +sorry for him and if I had dared I should have told him that. I was +amazed to see how sturdily he stood under this blow--like a mighty oak +in a storm. The look of him thrilled me--it suggested that something was +going to happen. + +The Silent Woman--as ragged as ever--was waiting on the steps. Out went +her bony finger as he came down. He turned and struck at her with his +cane and shouted in a shrill voice that rang out like a trumpet in his +frenzy: + +"_Go 'way from me. Take her away, somebody. I can't stan' it. She's +killin' me. Take her away. Take her away. Take her away._" + +His face turned purple and then white. He reeled and fell headlong, like +a tree severed from its roots, and lay still on the hard, stone +pavement. It seemed as if snow were falling on his face--it grew so +white. The Silent Woman stood as still as he, pointing at him with her +finger, her look unchanged. People came running toward us. I lifted the +head of Mr. Grimshaw and laid it on my knee. It felt like the head of +the stranger in Rattleroad. Old Kate bent over and looked at the eyelids +of the man, which fluttered faintly and were still. + +"Dead!" she muttered. + +Then, as if her work were finished, she turned and made her way through +the crowd and walked slowly down the street. Men stood aside to let her +pass, as if they felt the power of her spirit and feared the touch of +her garments. + +Two or three men had run to the house of the nearest doctor. The crowd +thickened. As I sat looking down at the dead face in my lap, a lawyer +who had come out of the court room pressed near me and bent over and +looked at the set eyes of Benjamin Grimshaw and said: + +"She floored him at last. I knew she would. He tried not to see her, but +I tell ye that bony old finger of hers burnt a hole in him. He couldn't +stand it. I knew he'd blow up some day under the strain. She got him at +last." + +"Who got him?" another asked. + +"Rovin' Kate. She killed him pointing her finger at him--so." + +"She's got an evil eye. Everybody's afraid o' the crazy ol' Trollope!" + +"Nonsense! She isn't half as crazy as the most of us," said the lawyer. +"In my opinion she had a good reason for pointing her finger at that +man. She came from the same town he did over in Vermont. Ye don't know +what happened there." + +The doctor arrived. The crowds made way for him. He knelt beside the +still figure and made the tests. He rose and shook his head, saying: + +"It's all over. Let one o' these boys go down and bring the undertaker." + +Benjamin Grimshaw, the richest man in the township, was dead, and I have +yet to hear of any mourners. + +Three days later I saw his body lowered into its grave. The little, +broken-spirited wife stood there with the same sad smile on her face +that I had noted when I first saw her in the hills. Rovin' Kate was +there in the clothes she had worn Christmas day. She was greatly +changed. Her hair was neatly combed. The wild look had left her eyes. +She was like one whose back is relieved of a heavy burden. Her lips +moved as she scattered little red squares of paper into the grave. I +suppose they thought it a crazy whim of hers--they who saw her do it. I +thought that I understood the curious bit of symbolism and so did the +schoolmaster, who stood beside me. Doubtless the pieces of paper +numbered her curses. + +"The scarlet sins of his youth are lying down with him in the dust," +Hacket whispered as we walked away together. + + +END OF BOOK TWO + + + + +BOOK THREE + +Which is the Story of the Chosen Ways + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +UNCLE PEABODY'S WAY AND MINE + + +I am old and love my ease and sometimes dare to think that I have earned +it. Why do I impose upon myself the task of writing down these memories, +searching them and many notes and records with great care so that in +every voice and deed the time shall speak? My first care has been that +neither vanity nor pride should mar a word of all these I have written +or shall write. So I keep my name from you, dear reader, for there is +nothing you can give me that I want. I have learned my lesson in that +distant time and, having learned it, give you the things I stand for and +keep myself under a mask. These things urge me to my task. I do it that +I may give to you--my countrymen--the best fruitage of the great garden +of my youth and save it from the cold storage of unknowing history. + +It is a bad thing to be under a heavy obligation to one's self of which, +thank God, I am now acquitted. I have known men who were their own worst +creditors. Everything they earned went swiftly to satisfy the demands +of Vanity or Pride or Appetite. I have seen them literally put out of +house and home, thrown neck and crop into the street, as it were, by one +or the other of these heartless creditors--each a grasping usurer with +unjust claims. + +I remember that Rodney Barnes called for my chest and me that fine +morning in early June when I was to go back to the hills, my year's work +in school being ended. I elected to walk, and the schoolmaster went with +me five miles or more across the flats to the slope of the high country. +I felt very wise with that year's learning in my head. Doubtless the +best of it had come not in school. It had taken me close to the great +stage and in a way lifted the curtain. I was most attentive, knowing +that presently I should get my part. + +"I've been thinking, Bart, o' your work in the last year," said the +schoolmaster as we walked. "Ye have studied six books and one--God help +ye! An' I think ye have got more out o' the one than ye have out o' the +six." + +In a moment of silence that followed I counted the books on my fingers: +Latin, Arithmetic, Algebra, Grammar, Geography, History. What was this +one book he referred to? + +"It's God's book o' life, boy, an' I should say ye'd done very well in +it." + +After a little he asked: "Have ye ever heard of a man who had the +Grimshaws?" + +I shook my head as I looked at him, not knowing just what he was driving +at. + +"Sure, it's a serious illness an' it has two phases. First there's the +Grimshaw o' greed--swinish, heartless greed--the other is the Grimshaw +o' vanity--the strutter, with sword at belt, who would have men bow or +flee before him." + +That is all he said of that seventh book and it was enough. + +"Soon the Senator will be coming," he remarked presently. "I have a long +letter from him and he asks about you and your aunt and uncle. I think +that he is fond o' you, boy." + +"I wish you would let me know when he comes," I said. + +"I am sure he will let you know, and, by the way, I have heard from +another friend o' yours, my lad. Ye're a lucky one to have so many +friends--sure ye are. Here, I'll show ye the letter. There's no reason +why I shouldn't. Ye will know its writer, probably. I do not." + +So saying he handed me this letter: + + "CANTERBURY, VT., + June 1. + + "DEAR SIR--I am interested in the boy Barton Baynes. Good words + about him have been flying around like pigeons. When school is out + I would like to hear from you, what is the record? What do you + think of the soul in him? What kind of work is best for it? If you + will let me maybe I can help the plans of God a little. That is my + business and yours. Thanking you for reading this, I am, as ever, + + "God's humble servant, + KATE FULLERTON." + +"Why, this is the writing of the Silent Woman," I said before I had read +the letter half through. + +"Rovin' Kate?" + +"Roving Kate; I never knew her other name, but I saw her handwriting +long ago." + +"But look--this is a neatly written, well-worded letter an' the sheet is +as white and clean as the new snow. Uncanny woman! They say she carries +the power o' God in her right hand. So do all the wronged. I tell ye, +lad, there's only one thing in the world that's sacred." + +I turned to him with a look of inquiry and asked: + +"What is it?" + +"The one and only miracle we know-the gate o' birth through which comes +human life and the lips commanding our love and speaking the wisdom of +childhood. Show me how a man treats women an' I'll tell ye what he +amounts to. There's the test that shows whether he's a man or a spaniel +dog." + +There was a little moment of silence then--how well I remember it! The +schoolmaster broke the silence by adding: + +"Well ye know, lad, I think the greatest thing that Jesus Christ did was +showing to a wicked world the sanctity o' motherhood." + +That, I think, was the last lesson in the school year. Just beyond us I +could see the slant of Bowman's Hill. What an amount of pains they gave +those days to the building of character! It will seem curious and +perhaps even wearisome now, but it must show here if I am to hold the +mirror up to the time. + +"I wonder why Kate is asking about me," I said. + +"Never mind the reason. She is your friend and let us thank God for it. +Think how she came to yer help in the old barn an' say a thousand +prayers, my lad. I shall write to her to-day, and what shall I say as to +the work?" + +"Well, I've been consulting the compass," I answered thoughtfully, as I +looked down at the yielding sand under my feet. "I think that I want to +be a lawyer." + +"Good! I would have guessed it. I suppose your week in the court room +with the fine old judge and the lawyers settled that for ye." + +"I think that it did." + +"Well, the Senator is a lawyer, God prosper him, an' he has shown us +that the chief business o' the lawyer is to keep men out o' the law." + +Having come to the first flight of the uplands, he left me with many a +kind word--how much they mean to a boy who is choosing his way with a +growing sense of loneliness! + +I reached the warm welcome of our little home just in time for dinner. +They were expecting me and it was a regular company dinner--chicken pie +and strawberry shortcake. + +"I wallered in the grass all the forenoon tryin' to git enough berries +for this celebration--ayes!--they ain't many of 'em turned yit," said +Aunt Deel. "No, sir--nothin' but pure cream on this cake. I ain't a +goin' to count the expense." + +Uncle Peabody danced around the table and sang a stanza of the old +ballad, which I have forgotten, but which begins: + + _Come, Philander, let us be a-marchin'._ + +How well I remember that hour with the doors open and the sun shining +brightly on the blossoming fields and the joy of man and bird and beast +in the return of summer and the talk about the late visit of Alma Jones +and Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln! + +While we were eating I told them about the letter of old Kate. + +"Fullerton!" Aunt Deel exclaimed. "Are ye sure that was the name, Bart?" + +"Yes." + +"Goodness gracious sakes alive!" + +She and Uncle Peabody gave each other looks of surprised inquiry. + +"Do you know anybody by that name?" I asked. + +"We used to," said Aunt Deel as she resumed her eating. "Can't be she's +one o' the Sam Fullertons, can it?" + +"Oh, prob'ly not," said Uncle Peabody. "Back east they's more Fullertons +than ye could shake a stick at. Say, I see the biggest bear this mornin' +that I ever see in all the born days o' my life. + +"It was dark. I'd come out o' the fifty-mile woods an' down along the +edge o' the ma'sh an' up into the bushes on the lower side o' the +pastur. All to once I heerd somethin'! I stopped an' peeked through the +bushes--couldn't see much--so dark. Then the ol' bear riz up on her hind +legs clus to me. We didn't like the looks o' one 'nother an' begun to +edge off very careful. + +"Seems so I kind o' said to the ol' bear: 'Excuse me.' + +"Seems so the ol' bear kind o' answered: 'Sart'nly.' + +"I got down to a little run, near by, steppin' as soft as a cat. I could +just see a white stun on the side o' it. I lifted my foot to step on +the stun an' jump acrost. B-r-r-r-r! The stun jumped up an' scampered +through the bushes. Then I _was_ scairt. Goshtalmighty! I lost +confidence in everything. Seemed so all the bushes turned into bears. +Jeerusalem, how I run! When I got to the barn I was purty nigh used up." + +"How did it happen that the stone jumped?" I asked. + +"Oh, I guess 't was a rabbit," said Uncle Peabody. + +Thus Uncle Peabody led us off into the trail of the bear and the problem +of Kate and the Sam Fullertons concerned us no more at that time. + +A week later we had our raising. Uncle Peabody did not want a public +raising, but Aunt Deel had had her way. We had hewed and mortised and +bored the timbers for our new home. The neighbors came with pikes and +helped to raise and stay and cover them. A great amount of human +kindness went into the beams and rafters of that home and of others like +it. I knew that The Thing was still alive in the neighborhood, but even +that could not paralyze the helpful hands of those people. Indeed, what +was said of my Uncle Peabody was nothing more or less than a kind of +conversational firewood. I can not think that any one really believed +it. + +We had a cheerful day. A barrel of hard cider had been set up in the +dooryard, and I remember that some drank it too freely. The he-o-hee of +the men as they lifted on the pikes and the sound of the hammer and +beetle rang in the air from morning until night. Mrs. Rodney Barnes and +Mrs. Dorothy came to help Aunt Deel with the cooking and a great dinner +was served on an improvised table in the dooryard, where the stove was +set up. The shingles and sheathes and clapboards were on before the day +ended. + +When they were about to go the men filled their cups and drank to Aunt +Deel. + +I knew, or thought I knew, why they had not mentioned my Uncle Peabody, +and was very thoughtful about it. Suddenly the giant Rodney Barnes +strode up to the barrel. I remember the lion-like dignity of his face as +he turned and said: + +"Now, boys, come up here an' stand right before me, every one o' you." + +He ranged them in a circle around the barrel. He stood at the spigot and +filled every cup. Then he raised his own and said: + +"I want ye to drink to Peabody Baynes--one o' the squarest men that ever +stood in cowhide." + +They drank the toast--not one of them would have dared refuse. + +"Now three cheers for the new home and every one that lives in it," he +demanded. + +They cheered lustily and went away. + +Uncle Peabody and I put in the floors and stairway and partitions. More +than once in the days we were working together I tried to tell him what +Sally had told me, but my courage failed. + +We moved our furniture. I remember that Uncle Peabody called it "the +houseltree." We had greased paper on the windows for a time after we +moved until the sash came. Aunt Deel had made rag carpets for the parlor +and the bedroom which opened off it. Our windows looked down into the +great valley of the St. Lawrence, stretching northward thirty miles or +more from our hilltop. A beautiful grove of sugar maples stood within a +stone's throw of the back door. + +What a rustic charm in the long slant of the green hill below us with +its gray, mossy boulders and lovely thorn trees! It was, I think, a +brighter, pleasanter home than that we had left. It was built on the +cellar of one burned a few years before. The old barn was still there +and a little repairing had made it do. + +The day came, shortly, when I had to speak out, and I took the straight +way of my duty as the needle of the compass pointed. It was the end of a +summer day and we had watched the dusk fill the valley and come creeping +up the slant, sinking the boulders and thorn tops in its flood, one by +one. As we sat looking out of the open door that evening I told them +what Sally had told me of the evil report which had traveled through +the two towns. Uncle Peabody sat silent and perfectly motionless for a +moment, looking out into the dusk. + +"W'y, of all things! Ain't that an awful burnin' shame-ayes!" said Aunt +Deel as she covered her face with her hand. + +"Damn, little souled, narrer contracted--" Uncle Peabody, speaking in a +low, sad tone, but with deep feeling, cut off this highly promising +opinion before it was half expressed, and rose and went to the water +pail and drank. + +"As long as we're honest we don't care what they say," he remarked as he +returned to his chair. + +"If they won't believe us we ought to show 'em the papers--ayes," said +Aunt Deel. + +"Thunder an' Jehu! I wouldn't go 'round the town tryin' to prove that I +ain't a thief," said Uncle Peabody. "It wouldn't make no differ'nce. +They've got to have somethin' to play with. If they want to use my name +for a bean bag let 'em as long as they do it when I ain't lookin'. I +wouldn't wonder if they got sore hands by an' by." + +I never heard him speak of it again. Indeed, although I knew the topic +was often in our thoughts it was never mentioned in our home but once +after that, to my knowledge. + +We sat for a long time thinking as the night came on. By and by Uncle +Peabody began the hymn in which we joined: + + "Oh, keep my heart from sadness, God; + Let not its sorrows stay, + Nor shadows of the night erase + The glories of the day." + +"Say--by thunder!--we don't have to set in the shadows. Le's fill the +room with the glory of the day," said Uncle Peabody as he lighted the +candles. "It ain't a good idee to go slidin' down hill in the +summer-time an' in the dark, too. Le's have a game o' cards." + +I remember that we had three merry games and went to bed. All outward +signs of our trouble had vanished in the glow of the candles. + +Next day I rode to the post-office and found there a book addressed to +me in the handwriting of old Kate. It was David Hoffman's _Course of +Legal Study_. She had written on its fly-leaf: + +"To Barton Baynes, from a friend." + +"That woman 'pears to like you purty thorough," said Uncle Peabody. + +"Well, let her if she wants to--poor thing!" Aunt Deel answered. "A +woman has got to have somebody to like--ayes!--or I dunno how she'd +live--I declare I don't--ayes!" + +"I like her, too," I said. "She's been a good friend to me." + +"She has, sart'n," my uncle agreed. + +We began reading the book that evening in the candle-light and soon +finished it. I was thrilled by the ideal of human service with which the +calling of the lawyer was therein lifted up and illuminated. After that +I had no doubt of my way. + +That week a letter came to me from the Senator, announcing the day of +Mrs. Wright's arrival in Canton and asking me to meet and assist her in +getting the house to rights. I did so. She was a pleasant-faced, amiable +woman and a most enterprising house cleaner. I remember that my first +task was mending the wheelbarrow. + +"I don't know what Silas would do if he were to get home and find his +wheelbarrow broken," said she. "It is almost an inseparable companion of +his." + +The schoolmaster and his family were fishing and camping upon the river, +and so I lived at the Senator's house with Mrs. Wright and her mother +until he arrived. What a wonderful house it was, in my view! I was awed +by its size and splendor, its soft carpets and shiny brass and mahogany. +Yet it was very simple. + +I hoed the garden and cleaned its paths and mowed the dooryard and did +some painting in the house. I remember that Mrs. Ebenezer Binks--wife +of the deacon and the constable--came in while I was at the latter task +early one morning to see if there were anything she could do. + +She immediately sat down and talked constantly until noon of her family +and especially of the heartlessness and general misconduct of her son +and daughter-in-law because they had refused to let her apply the name +of Divine Submission to the baby. It had been a hard blow to Mrs. Binks, +because this was the one and only favor which she had ever asked of +them. She reviewed the history of the Binkses from Ebenezer--the +First--down to that present day. There had been three Divine Submissions +in the family and they had made the name of Binks known wherever people +knew anything. When Mrs. Wright left the room Mrs. Binks directed her +conversation at me, and when Mrs. Wright returned I only got the spray +of it. By dinner time we were drenched in a way of speaking and Mrs. +Binks left, assuring us that she would return later and do anything in +her power. + +"My stars!" Mrs. Wright exclaimed. "If you see her coming lock the door +and go and hide in a closet until she goes away. Mrs. Binks always +brings her ancestors with her and they fill the house so that there's no +room for anybody else." + +When the day's work was ended Mrs. Wright exclaimed: + +"Thank goodness! the Binkses have not returned." + +We always referred to Mrs. Binks as the Binkses after that. + +Mrs. Jenison, a friend of the Wrights, came in that afternoon and told +us of the visit of young Latour to Canton and of the great relief of the +decent people at his speedy departure. + +"I wonder what brought him here," said Mrs. Wright. + +"It seems that he had heard of the beauty of Sally Dunkelberg. But a bee +had stung her nose just before he came and she was a sight to behold." + +The ladies laughed. + +"It's lucky," said Mrs. Wright. "Doesn't Horace Dunkelberg know about +him?" + +"I suppose he does, but the man is money crazy." + +I couldn't help hearing it, for I was working in the room in which they +talked. Well, really, it doesn't matter much now. They are all gone. + +"Who is young Latour?" I asked when Mrs. Jenison had left us. + +"A rake and dissolute young man whose father is very rich and lives in a +great mansion over in Jefferson County," Mrs. Wright answered. + +I wondered then if there had been a purpose in that drop of honey from +the cup of the Silent Woman. + +I remember that the Senator, who returned to Canton that evening on the +Watertown stage, laughed heartily when, as we were sitting by the +fireside, Mrs. Wright told of the call of the Binkses. + +"The good lady enjoys a singular plurality," he remarked. + +"She enjoys it better than we do," said Mrs. Wright. + +The Senator had greeted me with a fatherly warmth. Again I felt that +strong appeal to my eye in his broadcloth and fine linen and beaver hat +and in the splendid dignity and courtesy of his manners. + +"I've had good reports of you, Bart, and I'm very glad to see you," he +said. + +"I believe your own marks have been excellent in the last year," I +ventured. + +"Poorer than I could wish. The teacher has been very kind to me," he +laughed. "What have you been studying?" + +"Latin (I always mentioned the Latin first), Algebra, Arithmetic, +Grammar, Geography and History." + +"Including the history of the Binkses," he laughed. + +There was never a note of humor in his speeches, but he was playful in +his talk at times, especially when trusted friends were with him. + +"She is a very excellent woman, after all," he added. + +He asked about my aunt and uncle and I told him of all that had befallen +us, save the one thing of which I had spoken only with them and Sally. + +"I shall go up to see them soon," he said. + +The people of the little village had learned that he preferred to be let +alone when he had just returned over the long, wearisome way from the +scene of his labors. So we had the evening to ourselves. + +I remember my keen interest in his account of riding from Albany to +Utica on the new railroads. He spoke with enthusiasm of the smoothness +and swiftness of the journey. + +"With no mishap they now make it in about a half a day," he said, as we +listened with wonder. "It is like riding in a house with a good deal of +smoke coming out of the chimney and in at the windows. You sit on a +comfortable bench with a back and a foot-rest in front and look out of +the window and ride. But I tremble sometimes to think of what might +happen with all that weight and speed. + +"We had a little mishap after leaving Ballston Spa. The locomotive +engine broke down and the train stopped. The passengers poured out like +bees. We put our hands and shoulders on the train and pushed it +backwards about a third of a mile to a passing station. There the +engine got out of our way and after an hour's wait a horse was hitched +to the train. With the help of the men he started it. At the next town +our horse was reinforced by two others. They hauled us to the engine +station four miles beyond, where another locomotive engine was attached +to the train, and we went on by steam and at a fearful rate of speed." + +Mrs. Wright, being weary after the day's work, went to bed early and, at +his request, I sat with the Senator by the fire for an hour or so. I +have always thought it a lucky circumstance, for he asked me to tell of +my plans and gave me advice and encouragement which have had a marked +effect upon my career. + +I remember telling him that I wished to be a lawyer and my reasons for +it. He told me that a lawyer was either a pest or a servant of justice +and that his chief aim should be the promotion of peace and good will in +his community. He promised to try and arrange for my accommodation in +his office in the autumn and meanwhile to lend me some books to read +while I was at home. + +"Before we go to bed let us have a settlement," said the Senator. "Will +you kindly sit down at the table there and make up a statement of all +the time you have given me?" + +I made out the statement very neatly and carefully and put it in his +hands. + +"That is well done," said he. "I shall wish you to stay until the day +after to-morrow, if you will. So you will please add another day." + +I amended the statement and he paid me the handsome sum of seven +dollars. I remember that after I went to my room that night I stitched +up the opening in my jacket pocket, which contained my wealth, with the +needle and thread which Aunt Deel had put in my bundle, and slept with +the jacket under my mattress. + +The Senator and I were up at five o'clock and at work in the garden. +What a contrast to see him spading in his old farm suit! Mrs. Wright +cooked our breakfast and called us in at six. + +I remember we were fixing the fence around his pasture lot that day when +a handsomely dressed gentleman came back in the field. Mr. Wright was +chopping at a small spruce. + +"Is Senator Wright here?" the stranger inquired of me. + +I pointed to the chopper. + +"I beg your pardon--I am looking for the distinguished United States +Senator," he explained with a smile. + +Again I pointed at the man with the ax and said: + +"That is the Senator." + +Often I have thought of the look of astonishment on the face of the +stranger as he said: "Will you have the kindness to tell him that +General Macomb would like to speak with him?" + +I halted his ax and conveyed the message. + +"Is this the hero of Plattsburg?" Mr. Wright asked. + +"Well, I have been there," said the General. + +They shook hands and went up to the house together. + +I walked back to the hills that evening. There I found a letter from +Sally. She and her mother, who was in ill health, were spending the +summer with relatives at Portsmouth, New Hampshire. She wrote of riding +and fishing and sailing, but of all that she wrote I think only of these +words now: + + "I meet many good-looking boys here, but none of them are like you. + I wonder if you remember what you said to me that day. If you want + to unsay it, you can do it by letter, you know. I think that would + be the best way to do it. So don't be afraid of hurting my + feelings. Perhaps I would be glad. You don't know. What a long day + that was! It seems as if it wasn't over yet. How lucky for me that + it was such a beautiful day! You know I have forgotten all about + the pain, but I laugh when I think how I looked and how Mr. Latour + looked. He laughed a good deal going home, as if thinking of some + wonderful joke. In September I am going away to a young ladies' + school in Albany. I hate it. Can you imagine why? I am to learn + fine manners and French and Spanish and dancing and be good enough + for any man's wife. Think of that. Father says that I must marry a + big man. Jiminy Crimps! As if a big man wouldn't know better. I am + often afraid that you will know too much. I know what will happen + when your intellect sees how foolish I am. My grandmother says that + I am frivolous and far from God. I am afraid it's true, but + sometimes I want to be good--only sometimes. I remember you said, + once, that you were going to be like Silas Wright. Honestly I + believe that you could. So does mother. I want you to keep trying, + but it makes me afraid. Oh, dear! How sad and homesick I feel + to-day! Tell me the truth now, when you write." + +That evening I wrote my first love-letter--a fairly warm and moving +fragment of history. My family have urged me to let it go in the record, +but I have firmly refused. There are some things which I can not do even +in this little masquerade. It is enough to say that when the day ended I +had deliberately chosen two of the many ways that lay before me. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +I USE MY OWN COMPASS AT A FORK IN THE ROAD + + +Swiftly now I move across the border into manhood--a serious, eager, +restless manhood. It was the fashion of the young those days. + +I spent a summer of hard work in the fields. Evenings I read the books +which Mr. Wright had loaned to me, Blackstone's _Commentaries_ and +_Greenleaf on Evidence_ and a translation by Doctor Bowditch of +LaPlace's _Mecanique Celeste_. The latter I read aloud. I mention it +because in a way it served as an antidote for that growing sense of +expansion in my intellect. In the vastness of infinite space I found the +littleness of man and his best accomplishments. + +Mr. Wright came up for a day's fishing in July. My uncle and I took him +up the river. I remember that after he had landed a big trout he sat +down and held the fish up before him and looked proudly at the graceful, +glowing, arrowy shape. + +"I never did anything in the Senate that seemed half so important as +this," he remarked thoughtfully. + +While we ate our luncheon he described Jackson and spoke of the famous +cheese which he had kept on a table in the vestibule of the White House +for his callers. He described his fellow senators--Webster, Clay, Rives, +Calhoun and Benton. I remember that Webster was, in his view, the least +of them, although at his best the greatest orator. We had a delightful +day, and when I drove back to the village with him that night he told me +that I could go into the office of Wright and Baldwin after harvesting. + +"It will do for a start," he said. "A little later I shall try to find a +better place for you." + +I began my work taking only the studies at school which would qualify me +for surveying. I had not been in Canton a week when I received a rude +shock which was my first lesson in the ungentle art of politics. Rodney +Barnes and Uncle Peabody were standing with me in front of a store. A +man came out with Colonel Hand and said in a loud voice that Sile Wright +was a spoilsman and a drunkard--in politics for what he could get out of +it. + +My uncle turned toward the stranger with a look of amazement. Rodney +Barnes dropped the knife with which he had been whittling. I felt my +face turning red. + +"What's that, mister?" asked Rodney Barnes. + +The stranger repeated his statement and added that he could prove it. + +"Le's see ye," said Barnes as he approached him. + +There was a half moment of silence. + +"Go on with yer proof," Rodney insisted, his great right hand trembling +as he whittled. + +"There are plenty of men in Albany that know the facts," said the +stranger. + +"Any other proof to offer?" + +"That's enough." + +"Oh, I see, ye can't prove it to-day, but ye don't mind sayin' it +to-day. Say, mister, where do you live?" + +"None o' your dam' business." + +Swift as a cat's paw the big, right hand of Rodney caught the man by his +shoulder and threw him down. Seizing him by the collar and the seat of +his trousers our giant friend lifted the slanderer and flung him to the +roof of a wooden awning in front of the grocer's shop near which we +stood. + +"Now you stay there 'til I git cooled off or you'll be hurt," said +Rodney. "You better be out o' my reach for a few minutes." + +A crowd had begun to gather. + +"I want you all to take a look at that man," Rodney shouted. "He says +Sile Wright is a drunkard an' a thief." + +Loud jeers followed the statement, then a volley of oaths and a moment +of danger, for somebody shouted: + +"Le's tar an' feather him." + +"No, we'll just look at him a few minutes," Rodney Barnes shouted. "He's +one o' the greatest curiosities that ever came to this town." + +The slanderer, thoroughly frightened, stood silent a few moments like a +prisoner in the stocks. Soon the grocer let him in at an upper window. + +Then the loud voice of Rodney Barnes rang like a trumpet in the words: + +"Any man who says a mean thing of another when he can't prove it ought +to be treated in the same way." + +"That's so," a number of voices answered. + +The slanderer stayed in retirement the rest of the day and the incident +passed into history, not without leaving its impression on the people of +the two towns. + +My life went on with little in it worth recording until the letter came. +I speak of it as "the letter," because of its effect upon my career. It +was from Sally, and it said: + + "DEAR BART--It's all over for a long time, perhaps forever--that + will depend on you. I shall be true to you, if you really love me, + even if I have to wait many, many years. Mother and father saw and + read your letter. They say we are too young to be thinking about + love and that we have got to stop it. How can I stop it? I guess I + would have to stop living. But we shall have to depend upon our + memories now. I hope that yours is as good as mine. Father says no + more letters without his permission, and he stamped his foot so + hard that I think he must have made a dent in the floor. Talk about + slavery--what do you think of that? Mother says that we must + wait--that it would make father a great deal of trouble if it were + known that I allowed you to write. I guess the soul of old Grimshaw + is still following you. Well, we must stretch out that lovely day + as far as we can. Its words and its sunshine are always in my + heart. I am risking the salvation of my soul in writing this. But + I'd rather burn forever than not tell you how happy your letter + made me, dear Bart. It is that Grimshaw trouble that is keeping us + apart. On the third of June, 1844, we shall both be twenty-one--and + I suppose that we can do as we please then. The day is a long way + off, but I will agree to meet you that day at eleven in the morning + under the old pine on the river where I met you that day and you + told me that you loved me. If either or both should die our souls + will know where to find each other. If you will solemnly promise, + write these words and only these to my mother--Amour omnia vincit, + but do not sign your name. + + "SALLY." + +What a serious matter it seemed to me then! I remember that it gave Time +a rather slow foot. I wrote the words very neatly and plainly on a +sheet of paper and mailed it to Mrs. Dunkelberg. I wondered if Sally +would stand firm and longed to know the secrets of the future. More than +ever I was resolved to be the principal witness in some great matter, as +my friend in Ashery Lane had put it. + +I was eight months with Wright and Baldwin when I was offered a +clerkship in the office of Judge Westbrook, at Cobleskill, in Schoharie +County, at two hundred a year and my board. I knew not then just how the +offer had come, but knew that the Senator must have recommended me. I +know now that he wanted a reliable witness of the rent troubles which +were growing acute in Schoharie, Delaware and Columbia Counties. + +It was a trial to go so far from home, as Aunt Deel put it, but both my +aunt and uncle agreed that it was "for the best." + +"Mr. Purvis" had come to work for my uncle. In the midst of my +preparations the man of gristle decided that he would like to go with me +and see the world and try his fortune in another part of the country. + +How it wrung my heart, when Mr. Purvis and I got into the stage at +Canton, to see my aunt and uncle standing by the front wheel looking up +at me. How old and lonely and forlorn they looked! Aunt Deel had her +purse in her hand. I remember how she took a dollar bill out of it--I +suppose it was the only dollar she had--and looked at it a moment and +then handed it up to me. + +"You better take it," she said. "I'm 'fraid you won't have enough." + +How her hand and lips trembled! I have always kept that dollar. + +I couldn't see them as we drove away. + +I enjoyed the ride and the taverns and the talk of the passengers and +the steamboat journey through the two lakes and down the river, but +behind it all was a dark background. The shadows of my beloved friends +fell every day upon my joys. However, I would be nearer Sally. It was a +comfort when we were in Albany to reflect that she was somewhere in that +noisy, bewildering spread of streets and buildings. I walked a few +blocks from the landing, taking careful note of my way--mentally blazing +a trail for fear of getting lost--and looked wistfully up a long street. +There were many people, but no Sally. + +The judge received me kindly and gave Purvis a job in his garden. I was +able to take his dictation in sound-hand and spent most of my time in +taking down contracts and correspondence and drafting them into proper +form, which I had the knack of doing rather neatly. I was impressed by +the immensity of certain towns in the neighborhood, and there were some +temptations in my way. Many people, and especially the prominent men, +indulged in ardent spirits. + +One of my young friends induced me to go to dinner with him at Van +Brocklin's, the fashionable restaurant of a near city. We had a bottle +of wine and some adventures and I was sick for a week after it. Every +day of that week I attended a convention of my ancestors and received +much good advice. Toward the end of it my friend came to see me. + +"There's no use of my trying to be a gentleman," I said. "I fear that +another effort would hang my pelt on the door. It's a disgrace, +probably, but I've got to be good. I'm driven to it." + +"The way I look at it is this," said he. "We're young fellows and making +a good deal of money and we can't tell when we'll die and leave a lot +that we'll never get any good of." + +It was a down-country, aristocratic view of the responsibilities of +youth and quite new to me. Caligula was worried in a like manner, I +believe. We had near us there a little section of the old world which +was trying, in a half-hearted fashion, to maintain itself in the midst +of a democracy. It was the manorial life of the patroons--a relic of +ancient feudalism which had its beginning in 1629, when The West Indies +Company issued its charter of Privileges and Exemptions. That charter +offered to any member of the company who should, within four years, +bring fifty adults to the New Netherlands and establish them along the +Hudson, a liberal grant of land, to be called a manor, of which the +owner or patroon should be full proprietor and chief magistrate. The +settlers were to be exempt from taxation for ten years, but under bond +to stay in one place and develop it. In the beginning the patroon built +houses and barns and furnished cattle, seed and tools. The tenants for +themselves and their heirs agreed to pay him a fixed rent forever in +stock and produce and, further, to grind at the owner's mill and neither +to hunt nor fish. + +Judge Westbrook, in whose office I worked, was counsel and collector for +the patroons, notably for the manors of Livingston and Van +Renssalaer--two little kingdoms in the heart of the great republic. + +I spent two years at my work and studied in the office of the learned +judge with an ever-present but diminishing sense of homesickness. I +belonged to the bowling and athletic club and had many friends. + +Mr. Louis Latour, of Jefferson County, whom I had met in the company of +Mr. Dunkelberg, came during my last year there to study law in the +office of the judge, a privilege for which he was indebted to the +influence of Senator Wright, I understood. He was a gay Lothario, +always boasting of his love affairs, and I had little to do with him. + +One day in May near the end of my two years in Cobleskill Judge +Westbrook gave me two writs to serve on settlers in the neighborhood of +Baldwin Heights for non-payment of rent. He told me what I knew, that +there was bitter feeling against the patroons in that vicinity and that +I might encounter opposition to the service of the writs. If so I was +not to press the matter, but bring them back and he would give them to +the sheriff. + +"I do not insist on your taking this task upon you," he added. "I want a +man of tact to go and talk with these people and get their point of +view. If you don't care to undertake it I'll send another man." + +"I think that I would enjoy the task," I said in ignorance of that +hornet's nest back in the hills. + +"Take Purvis with you," he said. "He can take care of the horses, and as +those back-country folk are a little lawless it will be just as well to +have a witness with you. They tell me that Purvis is a man of nerve and +vigor." + +Thus very deftly and without alarming me he had given me a notion of the +delicate nature of my task. He had great faith in me those days. Well, I +had had remarkably good luck with every matter he had put into my +hands. He used to say that I would make a diplomat and playfully called +me "Lord Chesterfield"--perhaps because I had unconsciously acquired a +dignity and courtesy of manner beyond my years a little. + +"Mr. Purvis" had been busy building up a conversational reputation for +frightfulness in the gardens. He was held in awe by a number of the +simple-minded men with whom he worked. For him life had grown very +pleasant again--a sweet, uninterrupted dream of physical power and +fleeing enemies. I tremble to think what might have happened if his +strength and courage had equaled his ambition. I smiled when the judge +spoke of his nerve and vigor. Still I was glad of his company, for I +enjoyed Purvis. + +I had drafted my letters for the day and was about to close my desk and +start on my journey when Louis Latour came in and announced that he had +brought the writs from the judge and was going with me. + +"You will need a sheriff's deputy anyhow, and I have been appointed for +just this kind of work," he assured me. + +"I don't object to your going but you must remember that I am in +command," I said, a little taken back, for I had no good opinion either +of his prudence or his company. + +He was four years older than I but I had better judgment, poor as it +was, and our chief knew it. + +"The judge told me that I could go but that I should be under your +orders," he answered. "I'm not going to be a fool. I'm trying to +establish a reputation for good sense myself." + +We got our dinners and set out soon after one o'clock. Louis wore a +green velvet riding coat and handsome top boots and snug-fitting, gray +trousers. He was a gallant figure on the high-headed chestnut mare which +his father had sent to him. Purvis and I, in our working suits, were +like a pair of orderlies following a general. We rode two of the best +saddle horses in the judge's stable and there were no better in that +region. + +I had read the deeds of the men we were to visit. They were brothers and +lived on adjoining farms with leases which covered three hundred and +fifty acres of land. Their great-grandfather had agreed to pay a yearly +rent forever of sixty-two bushels of good, sweet, merchantable, winter +wheat, eight yearling cattle and four sheep in good flesh and sixteen +fat hens, all to be delivered in the city of Albany on the first day of +January of each year. So, feeling that I was engaged in a just cause, I +bravely determined to serve the writs if possible. + +It was a delightful ride up into the highlands through woods just +turning green. Full flowing noisy brooks cut the road here and there on +their way to the great river. Latour rode along beside me for a few +miles and began to tell of his sentimental adventures and conquests. His +talk showed that he had the heart of a stone. It made me hate him and +the more because he had told of meeting Sally on the street in Albany +and that he was in love with her. It was while he was telling me how he +had once fooled a country girl that I balked. He thought it a fine joke, +for his father had cut his allowance two hundred a year so that the sum +they had had to pay in damages had kept his nose "on the grindstone" for +two years. Then I stopped my horse with an exclamation which would have +astonished Lord Chesterfield, I am sure. + +The young man drew rein and asked: + +"What's the matter?" + +"Only this. I shall have to try to lick you before we go any further." + +"How's that?" + +I dismounted and tightened the girth of my saddle. My spirit was taking +swift counsel with itself at the brink of the precipice. It was then +that I seemed to see the angry face of old Kate--the Silent Woman--at my +elbow, and it counseled me to speak out. Again her spirit was leading +me. Calmly and slowly these words came from my lips: + +"Because I think you are a low-lived, dirty-souled dog of a man and if +you can stand that without fighting you are a coward to boot." + +This was not the language of diplomacy but at the time it seemed to me +rather kind and flattering. + +Latour flashed red and jumped off his horse and struck at me with his +crop. I caught it in my hand and said: + +"Hold on. Let's proceed decently and in order. Purvis, you hold these +horses while we fight it out." + +Purvis caught Latour's horse and brought the others close to mine and +gathered the reins in his hand. I shall never forget how pale he looked +and how fast he was breathing and how his hands trembled. + +I jumped off and ran for my man. He faced me bravely. I landed a +stunning blow squarely on his nose and he fell to the ground. Long +before, Hacket had told me that a swift attack was half the battle and I +have found it so more than once, for I have never been slow to fight for +a woman's honor or a friend's or my own--never, thank God! Latour lay so +quietly for a moment that I was frightened. His face was covered with +blood. He came to and I helped him up and he rushed at me like a tiger. +I remember that we had a long round then with our fists. I knew how to +take care of my face and stomach and that I did while he wore himself +out in wild blows and desperate lunges. + +We had dismounted near the end of a bridge. He fought me to the middle +of it and when his speed slackened I took the offensive and with such +energy that he clinched. I threw him on the planks and we went down +together, he under me, in a fall so violent that it shook the bridge and +knocked the breath out of him. This seemed to convince Latour that I was +his master. His distress passed quickly and he got up and began brushing +the dust from his pretty riding coat and trousers. I saw that he was +winded and in no condition to resume the contest. + +I felt as fresh as if I had mowed only once around the field, to quote a +saying of my uncle. + +"We'll have to fight it out some other day," he said. "I'm weak from the +loss of blood. My nose feels as if it was turned wrong side out." + +"It ought to be used to the grindstone after two years of practise," I +remarked. "Come down to the brook and let me wash the blood off you." + +Without a word he followed me and I washed his face as gently as I could +and did my best to clean his shirt and waistcoat with my handkerchief. +His nose was badly swollen. + +"Latour, women have been good to me," I said. "I've been taught to think +that a man who treats them badly is the basest of all men. I can't help +it. The feeling has gone into my bones. I'll fight you as often as I +hear you talk as you did." + +He reeled with weakness as he started toward his horse. I helped him +into the saddle. + +"I guess I'm not as bad as I talk," he remarked. + +If it were so he must have revised his view of that distinction which he +had been lying to achieve. It was a curious type of vanity quite new to +me then. + +Young Mr. Latour fell behind me as we rode on. The silence was broken +presently by "Mr. Purvis," who said: + +"You can hit like the hind leg of a horse. I never sees more speed an' +gristle in a feller o' your age." + +"Nobody could swing the scythe and the ax as much as I have without +getting some gristle, and the schoolmaster taught me how to use it," I +answered. "But there's one thing that no man ought to be conceited +about." + +"What's that?" + +"His own gristle. I remember Mr. Hacket told me once that the worst kind +of a fool was the man who was conceited over his fighting power and +liked to talk about it. If I ever get that way I hope that I shall have +it licked out of me." + +"I never git conceited--not that I ain't some reason to be," said Mr. +Purvis with a highly serious countenance. He seemed to have been blind +to that disparity between his acts and sayings which had distinguished +him in Lickitysplit. + +I turned my head away to hide my smiles and we rode on in silence. + +"I guess I've got somethin' here that is cocollated to please ye," he +said. + +He took a letter from his pocket and gave it to me. My heart beat faster +when I observed that the superscription on the envelope was in Sally's +handwriting. The letter, which bore neither signature nor date line, +contained these words: + + "Will you please show this to Mr. Barton Baynes? I hope it will + convince him that there is one who still thinks of the days of the + past and of the days that are coming--especially one day." + +Tears dimmed my eyes as I read and re-read the message. More than two of +those four years had passed and, as the weeks had dragged along I had +thought more and more of Sally and the day that was coming. I had bought +a suit of evening clothes and learned to dance and gone out to parties +and met many beautiful young ladies but none of them had the charm of +Sally. The memory of youth--true-hearted, romantic, wonder-working +youth--had enthroned her in its golden castle and was defending her +against the present commonplace herd of mere human beings. No one of +them had played with me in the old garden or stood by the wheat-field +with flying hair, as yellow as the grain, and delighted me with the +sweetest words ever spoken. No one of them had been glorified with the +light and color of a thousand dreams. + +I rode in silence, thinking of her and of those beautiful days now +receding into the past and of my aunt and uncle. I had written a letter +to them every week and one or the other had answered it. Between the +lines I had detected the note of loneliness. They had told me the small +news of the countryside. How narrow and monotonous it all seemed to me +then! Rodney Barnes had bought a new farm; John Axtell had been hurt in +a runaway; my white mare had got a spavin! + +"Hello, mister!" + +I started out of my reverie with a little jump of surprise. A big, +rough-dressed, bearded man stood in the middle of the road with a gun on +his shoulder. + +"Where ye goin'?" + +"Up to the Van Heusen place." + +"Where do ye hail from?" + +"Cobleskill." + +"On business for Judge Westbrook?" + +"Yes." + +"Writs to serve?" + +"Yes," I answered with no thought of my imprudence. + +"Say, young man, by hokey nettie! I advise you to turn right around and +go back." + +"Why?" + +"'Cause if ye try to serve any writs ye'll git into trouble." + +"That's interesting," I answered. "I am not seeking a quarrel, but I do +want to see how the people feel about the payment of their rents." + +"Say mister, look down into that valley there," the stranger began. "See +all them houses--they're the little houses o' the poor. See how smooth +the land is? Who built them houses? Who cleaned that land? Was it Mr. +Livingston? By hokey nettie! I guess not. The men who live there built +the houses an' cleaned the land. We ain't got nothin' else--not a +dollar! It's all gone to the landlord. I am for the men who made every +rod o' that land an' who own not a single rod of it. Years an' years ago +a king gave it to a man who never cut one tree or laid one stone on +another. The deeds say that we must pay a rent o' so many bushels o' +wheat a year but the land is no good for wheat, an' ain't been for a +hundred years. Why, ye see, mister, a good many things have happened in +three hundred years. The land was willin' to give wheat then an' a good +many folks was willin' to be slaves. By hokey nettie! they had got used +to it. Kings an' magistrates an' slavery didn't look so bad to 'em as +they do now. Our brains have changed--that's what's the matter--same as +the soil has changed. We want to be free like other folks in this +country. America has growed up around us but here we are livin' back in +old Holland three hundred years ago. It don't set good. We see lots o' +people that don't have to be slaves. They own their land an' they ain't +worked any harder than we have or been any more savin'. That's why I say +we can't pay the rents no more an' ye mustn't try to make us. By hokey +nettie! You'll have trouble if ye do." + +The truth had flashed upon me out of the words of this simple man. Until +then I had heard only one side of the case. If I were to be the servant +of justice, as Mr. Wright had advised, what was I to do? These tenants +had been Grimshawed and were being Grimshawed out of the just fruits of +their toil by the feudal chief whose remote ancestor had been a king's +favorite. For half a moment I watched the wavering needle of my compass +and then: + +"If what you say is true I think you are right," I said. + +"I don't agree with you," said young Latour. "The patroons have a clear +title to this land. If the tenants don't want to pay the rents they +ought to get out and make way for others." + +"Look here, young man, my name is Josiah Curtis," said the stranger. "I +live in the first house on the right-hand side o' the road. You may +tell the judge that I won't pay rent no more--not as long as I live--and +I won't git out, either." + +"Mr. Latour, you and Purvis may go on slowly--I'll overtake you soon," I +said. + +They went on and left me alone with Curtis. He was getting excited and I +wished to allay his fears. + +"Don't let him try to serve no writs or there'll be hell to pay in this +valley," said Curtis. + +"In that case I shall not try to serve the writs. I don't want to stir +up the neighborhood, but I want to know the facts. I shall try to see +other tenants and report what they say. It may lead to a settlement." + +We went on together to the top of the hill near which we had been +standing. Far ahead I saw a cloud of dust but no other sign of Latour +and Purvis. They must have spurred their horses into a run. The fear +came to me that Latour would try to serve the writs in spite of me. They +were in his pocket. What a fool I had been not to call for them. My +companion saw the look of concern in my face. + +"I don't like that young feller," said Curtis. "He's in fer trouble." + +He ran toward his house, which was only a few rods beyond us, while I +started on in pursuit of the two men at top speed. Before my horse had +taken a dozen jumps I heard a horn blowing behind me and its echo in +the hills. Within a half a moment a dozen horns were sounding in the +valleys around me. What a contrast to the quiet in which we had been +riding was this pandemonium which had broken loose in the countryside. A +little ahead I could see men running out of the fields. My horse had +begun to lather, for the sun was hot. My companions were far ahead. I +could not see the dust of their heels now. I gave up trying to catch +them and checked the speed of my horse and went on at a walk. The horns +were still sounding. Some of them seemed to be miles away. About twenty +rods ahead I saw three riders in strange costumes come out of a dooryard +and take the road at a wild gallop in pursuit of Latour and Purvis. They +had not discovered me. I kept as calm as I could in the midst of this +excitement. I remember laughing when I thought of the mess in which "Mr. +Purvis" would shortly find himself. + +I passed the house from which the three riders had just turned into the +road. A number of women and an old man and three or four children stood +on the porch. They looked at me in silence as I was passing and then +began to hiss and jeer. It gave me a feeling I have never known since +that day. I jogged along over the brow of a hill when, at a white, frame +house, I saw the center toward which all the men of the countryside were +coming. + +Suddenly I heard the hoof-beats of a horse behind me. I stopped, and +looking over my shoulder saw a rider approaching me in the costume of an +Indian chief. A red mask covered his face. A crest of eagle feathers +circled the edge of his cap. Without a word he rode on at my side. I +knew not then that he was the man Josiah Curtis--nor could I at any time +have sworn that it was he. + +A crowd had assembled around the house ahead. I could see a string of +horsemen coming toward it from the other side. I wondered what was going +to happen to me. What a shouting and jeering in the crowded dooryard! I +could see the smoke of a fire. We reached the gate. Men in Indian masks +and costumes gathered around us. + +"Order! Sh-sh-sh," was the loud command of the man beside me in whom I +recognized--or thought that I did--the voice of Josiah Curtis. + +"What has happened?" + +"One o' them tried to serve a writ an' we have tarred an' feathered +him." + +Just then I heard the voice of Purvis shouting back in the crowd this +impassioned plea: + +"Bart, for God's sake, come here." + +I turned to Curtis and said: + +"If the gentleman tried to serve the writ he acted without orders and +deserves what he has got. The other fellow is simply a hired man who +came along to take care of the horses. He couldn't tell the difference +between a writ and a hole in the ground." + +"Men, you have gone fur enough," said Curtis. "This man is all right. +Bring the other men here and put 'em on their horses an' I'll escort 'em +out o' the town." + +They brought Latour on a rail amidst roars of laughter. What a +bear-like, poultrified, be-poodled object he was!--burred and sheathed +in rumpled gray feathers from his hair to his heels. The sight and smell +of him scared the horses. There were tufts of feathers over his ears and +on his chin. They had found great joy in spoiling that aristocratic +livery in which he had arrived. + +Then came poor Purvis. They had just begun to apply the tar and feathers +to him when Curtis had stopped the process. He had only a shaking ruff +of long feathers around his neck. They lifted the runaways into their +saddles. Purvis started off at a gallop, shouting "Come on, Bart," but +they stopped him. + +"Don't be in a hurry, young feller," said one of the Indians, and then +there was another roar of laughter. + +"Go back to yer work now," Curtis shouted, and turning to me added: "You +ride along with me and let our feathered friends follow us." + +So we started up the road on our way back to Cobleskill. Soon Latour +began to complain that he was hot and the feathers pricked him. + +"You come alongside me here an' raise up a little an' I'll pick the +inside o' yer legs an' pull out yer tail feathers," said Curtis. "If you +got 'em stuck into yer skin you'd be a reg'lar chicken an' no mistake." + +I helped in the process and got my fingers badly tarred. + +"This is a dangerous man to touch--his soul is tarred," said Curtis. +"Keep away from him." + +"What a lookin' skunk you be!" he laughed as he went on with the +picking. + +We resumed our journey. Our guide left us at the town line some three +miles beyond. + +"Thank God the danger is over," said Purvis. "The tar on my neck has +melted an' run down an' my shirt sticks like the bark on a tree. I'm +sick o' the smell o' myself. If I could find a skunk I'd enjoy holdin' +him in my lap a while. I'm goin' back to St. Lawrence County about as +straight as I can go. I never did like this country anyway." + +He had picked the feathers out of his neck and Latour was now busy +picking his arms and shoulders. Presently he took off his feathered coat +and threw it away, saying: + +"They'll have to pay for this. Every one o' those jackrabbits will have +to settle with me." + +"You brought it on yourself," I said. "You ran away from me and got us +all into trouble by being too smart. You tried to be a fool and +succeeded beyond your expectation. My testimony wouldn't help you any." + +"You're always against the capitalist," he answered. + +It was dark when I left my companions in Cobleskill. I changed my +clothes and had my supper and found Judge Westbrook in his home and +reported the talk of Curtis and our adventure and my view of the +situation back in the hills. I observed that he gave the latter a cold +welcome. + +"I shall send the sheriff and a posse," he said with a troubled look. + +"Pardon me, but I think it will make a bad matter worse," I answered. + +"We must not forget that the patroons are our clients," he remarked. + +I yielded and went on with my work. In the next week or so I satisfied +myself of the rectitude of my opinions. Then came the most critical +point in my history--a conflict with Thrift and Fear on one side and +Conscience on the other. + +The judge raised my salary. I wanted the money, but every day I would +have to lend my help, directly or indirectly, to the prosecution of +claims which I could not believe to be just. My heart went out of my +work. I began to fear myself. For weeks I had not the courage to take +issue with the learned judge. + +One evening I went to his home determined to put an end to my +unhappiness. After a little talk I told him frankly that I thought the +patroons should seek a friendly settlement with their tenants. + +"Why?" he asked. + +"Because their position is unjust, un-American and untenable," was my +answer. + +He rose and gave me his hand and a smile of forbearance in consideration +of my youth, as I took it. + +I left much irritated and spent a sleepless night in the course of which +I decided to cling to the ideals of David Hoffman and Silas Wright. + +In the morning I resigned my place and asked to be relieved as soon as +the convenience of the judge would allow it. He tried to keep me with +gentle persuasion and higher pay, but I was firm. Then I wrote a long +letter to my friend the Senator. + +Again I had chosen my way and with due regard to the compass. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE MAN WITH THE SCYTHE + + +It was late in June before I was able to disengage myself from the work +of the judge's office. Meanwhile there had been blood shed back in the +hills. One of the sheriff's posse had been severely wounded by a bullet +and had failed to serve the writs. The judge had appealed to the +governor. People were talking of "the rent war." + +Purvis had returned to St. Lawrence County and hired to my uncle for the +haying. He had sent me a letter which contained the welcome information +that the day he left the stage at Canton, he had seen Miss Dunkelberg on +the street. + +"She was lookin' top-notch--stop't and spoke to me," he went on. "You +cood a nocked me down with a fether I was that scairt. She ast me how +you was an' I lookt her plum in the eye an' I says: all grissul from his +head to his heels, mam, an' able to lick Lew Latour, which I seen him do +in quick time an' tolable severe. He can fight like a bob-tailed cat +when he gits a-goin', I says." + +What a recommendation to the sweet, unsullied spirit of Sally! Without +knowledge of my provocation what would she think of me? He had endowed +me with all the frightfulness of his own cherished ideal, and what was I +to do about it? Well, I was going home and would try to see her. + +What a joy entered my heart when I was aboard the steamboat, at last, +and on my way to all most dear to me! As I entered Lake Champlain I +consulted the map and decided to leave the boat at Chimney Point to find +Kate Fullerton, who had written to the schoolmaster from Canterbury. My +aunt had said in a letter that old Kate was living there and that a +great change had come over her. So I went ashore and hired a horse of +the ferryman--one of those "Green Mountain ponies" of which my uncle had +told me: "They'll take any gait that suits ye, except a slow one, an' +keep it to the end o' the road." + +I think that I never had a horse so bent on reaching that traditional +"end of the road." He was what they called a "racker" those days, and a +rocking-chair was not easier to ride. He took me swiftly across the wide +flat and over the hills and seemed to resent my effort to slow him. + +I passed through Middlebury and rode into the grounds of the college, +where the Senator had been educated, and on out to Weybridge to see +where he had lived as a boy. I found the Wright homestead--a +comfortable white house at the head of a beautiful valley with wooded +hills behind it--and rode up to the door. A white-haired old lady in a +black lace cap was sitting on its porch looking out at the sunlit +fields. + +"Is this where Senator Wright lived when he was a boy?" I asked. + +"Yes, sir," the old lady answered. + +"I am from Canton." + +She rose from her chair. + +"You from Canton!" she exclaimed. "Why, of all things! That's where my +boy's home is. I'm glad to see you. Go an' put your horse in the barn." + +I dismounted and she came near me. + +"Silas Wright is my boy," she said. "What is your name?" + +"Barton Baynes," I answered as I hitched my horse. + +"Barton Baynes! Why, Silas has told me all about you in his letters. He +writes to me every week. Come and sit down." + +We sat down together on the porch. + +"Silas wrote in his last letter that you were going to leave your place +in Cobleskill," she continued to my surprise. "He said that he was glad +you had decided not to stay." + +It was joyful news to me, for the Senator's silence had worried me and +I had begun to think with alarm of my future. + +"I wish that he would take you to Washington to help him. The poor man +has too much to do." + +"I should think it a great privilege to go," I answered. + +"My boy likes you," she went on. "You have been brought up just as he +was. I used to read to him every evening when the candles were lit. How +hard he worked to make a man of himself! I have known the mother's joy. +I can truly say, 'Now let thy servant depart in peace.'" + +"'For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,'" I quoted. + +"You see I know much about you and much about your aunt and uncle," said +Mrs. Wright. + +She left me for a moment and soon the whole household was gathered about +me on the porch, the men having come up from the fields. The Senator had +told them on his last visit of my proficiency as a sound-hand writer and +I amused them by explaining the art of it. They put my horse in the barn +and pressed me to stay for dinner, which I did. It was a plain boiled +dinner at which the Senator's cousin and his hired man sat down in their +shirt-sleeves and during which I heard many stories of the boyhood of +the great man. As I was going the gentle old lady gave me a pair of +mittens which her distinguished son had worn during his last winter in +college. I remember well how tenderly she handled them! + +"I hope that Silas will get you to help him"--those were the last words +she said to me when I bade her good-by. + +The visit had set me up a good deal. The knowledge that I had been so +much in the Senator's thoughts, and that he approved my decision to +leave the learned judge, gave me new heart. I had never cherished the +thought that he would take me to Washington although, now and then, a +faint star of hope had shone above the capitol in my dreams. As I rode +along I imagined myself in that great arena and sitting where I could +see the flash of its swords and hear the thunder of Homeric voices. That +is the way I thought of it. Well, those were no weak, piping times of +peace, my brothers. They were times of battle and as I rode through that +peaceful summer afternoon I mapped my way to the fighting line. I knew +that I should enjoy the practise of the law but I had begun to feel that +eventually my client would be the people whose rights were subject to +constant aggression as open as that of the patroons or as insidious as +that of the canal ring. + +The shadows were long when I got to Canterbury. At the head of its main +street I looked down upon a village green and some fine old elms. It was +a singularly quiet place. I stopped in front of a big white meeting +house. An old man was mowing in its graveyard near the highway. Slowly +he swung his scythe. + +"It's a fine day," I said. + +"No, it ain't, nuther-too much hard work in it," said he. + +"Do you know where Kate Fullerton lives?" I asked. + +"Well, it's purty likely that I do," he answered as he stood resting on +his snath. "I've lived seventy-two years on this hill come the +fourteenth day o' June, an' if I didn't know where she lived I'd be +'shamed of it." + +He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment and added: + +"I know everybody that lives here an' everybody that dies here, an' some +that orto be livin' but ain't an' some that orto be dead which ye +couldn't kill `em with an ax--don't seem so--I declare it don't. Do ye +see that big house down there in the trees?" + +I could see the place at which he pointed far back from the village +street in the valley below us, the house nearly hidden by tall +evergreens. + +"Yes," I answered. + +"No ye can't, nuther--leastways if ye can ye've got better eyes'n mos' +people, ye can't see only a patch o' the roof an' one chimney--them pine +trees bein' thicker'n the hair on a dog. It's the gloomiest ol' house +in all creation, I guess. Wal, that's the Squire Fullerton place--he's +Kate's father." + +"Does the squire live there?" + +"No, sir--not eggzac'ly. He's dyin' there--been dyin' there fer two year +er more. By gosh! It's wonderful how hard 'tis fer some folks to quit +breathin'. Say, be you any o' his fam'ly?" + +"No." + +"Nor no friend o' his?" + +"No!" + +"Course not. He never had a friend in his life--too mean! He's too mean +to die, mister--too mean fer hell an' I wouldn't wonder--honest, I +wouldn't--mebbe that's why God is keepin' him here--jest to meller him +up a little. Say, mister, be you in a hurry?" + +"No." + +"Yis ye be. Everybody's in a hurry--seems to me--since we got steam +power in the country. Say, hitch yer hoss an' come in here. I want to +show ye suthin'." + +He seemed to enjoy contradicting me. + +"Nobody seems in a hurry in this town," I said. + +"Don't, hey? Wal, ye ought to 'a' seen Deacon Norton run when some +punkins on his side hill bu'st their vines an' come rollin' down an' +chased him half a mile into the valley." + +I dismounted and hitched my horse to the fence and followed him into the +old churchyard, between weather-stained mossy headstones and graves +overgrown with wild roses. Near the far end of these thick-sown acres he +stopped. + +"Here's where the buryin' begun," said my guide. "The first hole in the +hill was dug for a Fullerton." + +There were many small monuments and slabs of marble--some spotted with +lichens and all in commemoration of departed Fullertons. + +"Say, look a' that," said my guide as he pulled aside the stem of a +leafy brier red with roses. "Jest read that, mister." + +My keen eyes slowly spelled out the time-worn words on a slab of stained +marble: + + Sacred to the memory of + Katherine Fullerton + 1787-1806 + "Proclaim his Word in every place + That they are dead who fall from grace." + +A dark shadow fell upon the house of my soul and I heard a loud rapping +at its door which confused me until, looking out, I saw the strange +truth of the matter. Rose leaves and blossoms seemed to be trying to +hide it with their beauty, but in vain. + +"I understand," I said. + +"No ye don't. Leastways I don't believe ye do--not correct. Squire +Fullerton dug a grave here an' had an empty coffin put into it away back +in 1806. It means that he wanted everybody to understan' that his girl +was jest the same as dead to him an' to God. Say, he knew all about +God's wishes--that man. Gosh! He has sent more folks to hell than there +are in it, I guess. Say, mister, do ye know why he sent her there?" + +I shook my head. + +"Yis ye do, too. It's the same ol' thing that's been sendin' women to +hell ever since the world begun. Ye know hell must 'a' been the +invention of a man--that's sartin--an' it was mostly fer women an' +children--that's sartiner--an' fer all the men that didn't agree with +him. Set down here an' I'll tell ye the hull story. My day's work is +done." + +We sat down together and he went on as follows: + +"Did ye ever see Kate Fullerton?" + +"Yes." + +"No ye didn't, nuther. Yer too young. Mebbe ye seen her when she was old +an' broke down but that wa'n't Kate--no more'n I'm Bill Tweedy, which I +ain't. Kate was as handsome as a golden robin. Hair yeller as his breast +an' feet as spry as his wings an' a voice as sweet as his song, an' eyes +as bright as his'n--yis, sir--ye couldn't beat her fer looks. That was +years and years ago. Her mother died when Kate was ten year old--there's +her grave in there with the sickle an' the sheaf an' the portry on it. +That was unfort'nit an' no mistake. Course the squire married ag'in but +the new wife wa'n't no kind of a mother to the girl an' you know, +mister, there was a young scoundrel here by the name o' Grimshaw. His +father was a rich man--owned the cooper shop an' the saw-mill an' the +tannery an' a lot o' cleared land down in the valley. He kep' comp'ny +with her fer two or three year. Then all of a sudden folks began to +talk--the women in partic'lar. Ye know men invented hell an' women keep +up the fire. Kate didn't look right to 'em. Fust we knew, young Grimshaw +had dropped her an' was keepin' comp'ny with another gal--yis, sir. Do +ye know why?" + +Before I could answer he went on: + +"No ye don't--leastways I don't believe ye do. It was 'cause her father +was richer'n the squire an' had promised his gal ten thousan' dollars +the day she was married. All of a sudden Kate disappeared. We didn't +know what had happened fer a long time." + +"One day the ol' squire got me to dig this grave an' put up the headstun +an' then he tol' me the story. He'd turned the poor gal out o' doors. +God o' Israel! It was in the night--yis, sir--it was in the night that +he sent her away. Goldarn him! He didn't have no more heart than a +grasshopper--no sir--not a bit. I could 'a' brained him with my shovel, +but I didn't. + +"I found out where the gal had gone an' I follered her--yis I did--found +her in the poorhouse way over on Pussley Hill--uh huh! She jes' put her +arms 'round my neck an' cried an' cried. I guess 'twas 'cause I looked +kind o' friendly--uh huh! I tol' her she should come right over to our +house an' stay jest as long as she wanted to as soon as she got +well--yis, sir, I did. + +"She was sick all summer long--kind o' out o' her head, ye know, an' I +used to go over hossback an' take things fer her to eat. An' one day +when I was over there they was wonderin' what they was goin' to do with +her little baby. I took it in my arms an' I'll be gol dummed if it +didn't grab hold o' my nose an' hang on like a puppy to a root. When +they tried to take it away it grabbed its fingers into my whiskers an' +hollered like a panther--yis, sir. Wal, ye know I jes' fetched that +little baby boy home in my arms, ay uh! My wife scolded me like Sam +Hill--yis, sir--she had five of her own. I tol' her I was goin' to take +it back in a day er two but after it had been in the house three days ye +couldn't 'a' pulled it away from her with a windlass. + +"We brought him up an' he was alwuss a good boy. We called him +Enoch--Enoch Rone--did ye ever hear the name?" + +"'No.' + +"I didn't think 'twas likely but I'm alwuss hopin'. + +"Early that fall Kate got better an' left the poorhouse afoot. Went away +somewheres--nobody knew where. Some said she'd crossed the lake an' gone +away over into York State, some said she'd drowned herself. By'm by we +heard that she'd gone way over into St. Lawrence County where Silas +Wright lives an' where young Grimshaw had settled down after he got +married. + +"Wal, 'bout five year ago the squire buried his second wife--there 'tis +over in there back o' Kate's with the little speckled angel on it. +Nobody had seen the squire outside o' his house for years until the +funeral--he was crippled so with rheumatiz. After that he lived all +'lone in the big house with ol' Tom Linney an' his wife, who've worked +there fer 'bout forty year, I guess. + +"Wal, sir, fust we knew Kate was there in the house livin' with her +father. We wouldn't 'a' knowed it, then, if it hadn't been that Tom +Linney come over one day an' said he guessed the ol' squire wanted to +see me--no, sir, we wouldn't--fer the squire ain't sociable an' the +neighbors never darken his door. She must 'a' come in the night, jest as +she went--nobody see her go an' nobody see her come, an' that's a fact. +Wal, one day las' fall after the leaves was off an' they could see a +corner o' my house through the bushes, Tom was walkin' the ol' man +'round the room. All to once he stopped an' p'inted at my house through +the winder an' kep' p'intin'. Tom come over an' said he ca'llated the +squire wanted to see me. So I went there. Kate met me at the door. Gosh! +How old an' kind o' broke down she looked! But I knew her the minute I +set my eyes on her--uh huh--an' she knew me--yis, sir--she smiled an' +tears come to her eyes an' she patted my hand like she wanted to tell me +that she hadn't forgot, but she never said a word--not a word. The ol' +squire had the palsy, so 't he couldn't use his hands an' his throat was +paralyzed--couldn't speak ner nothin'. Where do ye suppose he was when I +found him?" + +"In bed?" I asked. + +"No, sir--no, siree! He was in hell--that's where he was--reg'lar ol' +fashioned, down-east hell, burnin' with fire an' brimstun, that he'd had +the agency for an' had recommended to every sinner in the neighborhood. +He was settin' in his room. God o' Isr'el! You orto 'a' seen the motions +he made with his hands an' the way he tried to speak when I went in +there, but all I could hear was jest a long yell an' a kind of a rattle +in his throat. Heavens an' airth! how desperit he tried to spit out the +thing that was gnawin' his vitals. Ag'in an' ag'in he'd try to tell me. +Lord God! how he did work! + +"All to once it come acrost me what he wanted--quick as ye could say +scat. He wanted to have Kate's headstun took down an' put away--that's +what he wanted. That stun was kind o' layin' on his stummick an' painin' +of him day an' night. He couldn't stan' it. He knew that he was goin' to +die purty soon an' that Kate would come here an' see it an' that +everybody would see her standin' here by her own grave, an' it worried +him. It was kind o' like a fire in his belly. + +"I guess, too, he couldn't bear the idee o' layin' down fer his las' +sleep beside that hell hole he'd dug fer Kate--no, sir! + +"Wal, ye know, mister, I jes' shook my head an' never let on that I knew +what he meant an' let him wiggle an' twist like a worm on a hot griddle, +an' beller like a cut bull 'til he fell back in a swoon. + +"Damn him! it don't give him no rest. He tries to tell everybody he +sees--that's what they say. He bellers day an' night an' if you go down +there he'll beller to you an' you'll know what it's about, but the +others don't. + +"You an' me are the only ones that knows the secret, I guess. Some day, +'fore he dies, I'm goin' to take up that headstun an' hide it, but he'll +never know it's done--no, sir--not 'til he gits to the judgment seat, +anyway." + +The old man stopped and rubbed his hands together as if he were washing +them of the whole matter. The dusk of evening had fallen and crocked the +white marble and blurred the lettered legends around us. The mossy +stones now reminded me only of the innumerable host of the dead. Softly +the notes of a song sparrow scattered down into the silence that +followed the strange story. + +The old man rose and straightened himself and blew out his breath and +brushed his hands upon his trousers by way of stepping down into this +world again out of the close and dusty loft of his memory. But I called +him back. + +"What has become of Enoch?" I asked. + +"Wal, sir, Enoch started off west 'bout three year ago an' we ain't +heard a word from him since that day--nary a word, mister. I suppose we +will some time. He grew into a good man, but there was a kind of a queer +streak in the blood, as ye might say, on both sides kind o'. We've wrote +letters out to Wisconsin, where he was p'intin' for, an' to places on +the way, but we can't git no news 'bout him. Mebbe he was killed by the +Injuns." + +We walked out of the graveyard together in silence. Dimly above a +distant ridge I could see stark, dead timber looming on a scarlet cloud +in the twilight. It is curious how carefully one notes the setting of +the scene in which his spirit has been deeply stirred. + +I could see a glimmer of a light in the thicket of pines down the +valley. I unhitched and mounted my horse. + +"Take the first turn to the right," said the old man as he picked up his +scythe. + +"I'm very much obliged to you," I said. + +"No ye ain't, nuther," he answered. "Leastways there ain't no reason why +ye should be." + +My horse, impatient as ever to find the end of the road, hurried me +along and in a moment or two we were down under the pine grove that +surrounded the house of old Squire Fullerton--a big, stone house with a +graveled road around it. A great black dog came barking and growling at +me from the front porch. I rode around the house and he followed. Beyond +the windows I could see the gleam of candle-light and moving figures. A +man came out of the back door as I neared it. + +"Who's there?" he demanded. + +"My name is Barton Baynes from St. Lawrence County. Kate Fullerton is my +friend and I wish to see her." + +"Come up to the steps, sor. Don't git off yer horse--'til I've chained +the dog. Kate'll be out in a minute." + +He chained the dog to the hitching post and as he did so a loud, long, +wailing cry broke the silence of the house. It put me in mind of the +complaint of the damned which I remembered hearing the minister +describe years before at the little schoolhouse in Lickitysplit. How it +harrowed me! + +The man went into the house. Soon he came out of the door with a lighted +candle in his hand, a woman following. How vividly I remember the little +murmur of delight that came from her lips when he held the candle so +that its light fell upon my face! I jumped off my horse and gave the +reins to the man and put my arms around the poor woman, whom I loved for +her sorrows and for my debt to her, and rained kisses upon her withered +cheek. Oh God! what a moment it was for both of us! + +The way she held me to her breast and patted my shoulder and said "my +boy!"--in a low, faint, treble voice so like that of a child--it is one +of the best memories that I take with me into the new life now so near, +from which there is no returning. + +"My boy!'" Did it mean that she had appointed me to be a kind of proxy +for the one she had lost and that she had given to me the affection +which God had stored in her heart for him? Of that, I know only what may +be conveyed by strong but unspoken assurance. + +She led me into the house. She looked very neat now--in a black gown +over which was a spotless white apron and collar of lace--and much more +slender than when I had seen her last. She took me into a large room in +the front of the house with a carpet and furniture, handsome once but +now worn and decrepit. Old, time-stained engravings of scenes from the +Bible, framed in wood, hung on the walls. + +She gave me a chair by the candle-stand and sat near me and looked into +my face with a smile of satisfaction. In a moment she pointed toward the +west with that forefinger, which in my presence had cut down her enemy, +and whispered the one word: + +"News?" + +I told all that I had heard from home and of my life in Cobleskill but +observed, presently, a faraway look in her eyes and judged that she was +not hearing me. Again she whispered: + +"Sally?" + +"She has been at school in Albany for a year," I said. "She is at home +now and I am going to see her." + +"You love Sally?" she whispered. + +"Better than I love my life." + +Again she whispered: "Get married!" + +"We hope to in 1844. I have agreed to meet her by the big pine tree on +the river bank at eleven o'clock the third of June, 1844. We are looking +forward to that day." + +A kind of shadow seemed to come out of her spirit and rest upon her face +and for a moment she looked very solemn. I suppose that she divined the +meaning of all that. She shook her head and whispered: + +"Money thirst!" + +A tall, slim woman entered the room then and said that supper was ready. +Kate rose with a smile and I followed her into the dining-room where two +tables were spread. One had certain dishes on it and a white cover, +frayed and worn. She led me to the other table which was neatly covered +with snowy linen. The tall woman served a supper on deep, blue china, +cooked as only they could cook in old New England. Meanwhile I could +hear the voice of the aged squire--a weird, empty, inhuman voice it was, +utterly cut off from his intelligence. It came out of the troubled +depths of his misery. + +So that house--the scene of his great sin which would presently lie down +with him in the dust--was flooded, a hundred times a day, by the unhappy +spirit of its master. In the dead of the night I heard its despair +echoing through the silent chambers. + +Kate said little as we ate, or as we sat together in the shabby, great +room after supper, but she seemed to enjoy my talk and I went into the +details of my personal history. How those years of suffering and silence +had warped her soul and body in a way of speaking! They were a poor fit +in any company now. Her tongue had lost its taste for speech I doubt +not; her voice was gone, although I had heard a low plaintive murmur in +the words "my boy." + +The look of her face, even while I was speaking, indicated that her +thoughts wandered restlessly, in the gloomy desert of her past. I +thought of that gay bird--like youth of hers of which the old man with +the scythe had told me and wondered. As I was thinking of this there +came a cry from the aged squire so loud and doleful that it startled me +and I turned and looked toward the open door. + +Kate rose and came to my side and leaning toward my ear whispered: + +"It is my father. He is always thinking of when I was a girl. He wants +me." + +She bade me good night and left the room. Doubtless it was the outraged, +departed spirit of that golden time which was haunting the old squire. A +Bible lay on the table near me and I sat reading it for an hour or so. A +tall clock in a corner solemnly tolled the hour of nine. In came the +tall woman and asked in the brogue of the Irish: + +"Would ye like to go to bed?" + +"Yes, I am tired." + +She took a candle and led me up a broad oaken stairway and into a room +of the most generous proportions. A big four-post bedstead, draped in +white, stood against a wall. The bed, sheeted in old linen, had quilted +covers. The room was noticeably clean; its furniture of old mahogany +and its carpet comparatively unworn. + +When I was undressed I dreaded to put out the candle. For the first time +in years I had a kind of child-fear of the night. But I went to bed at +last and slept rather fitfully, waking often when the cries of the old +squire came flooding through the walls. How I longed for the light of +morning! It came at last and I rose and dressed and seeing the hired man +in the yard, went out-of-doors. He was a good-natured Irishman. + +"I'm glad o' the sight o' ye this fine mornin'," said he. "It's a +pleasure to see any one that has all their senses--sure it is." + +I went with him to the stable yard where he did his milking and talked +of his long service with the squire. + +"We was glad when he wrote for Kate to come," he said. "But, sure, I +don't think it's done him any good. He's gone wild since she got here. +He was always fond o' his family spite o' all they say. Did ye see the +second table in the dinin'-room? Sure, that's stood there ever since his +first wife et her last meal on it, just as it was then, sor--the same +cloth, the same dishes, the same sugar in the bowl, the same pickles in +the jar. He was like one o' them big rocks in the field there--ye +couldn't move him when he put his foot down." + +Kate met me at the door when I went back into the house and kissed my +cheek and again I heard those half-spoken words, "My boy." I ate my +breakfast with her and when I was about to get into my saddle at the +door I gave her a hug and, as she tenderly patted my cheek, a smile +lighted her countenance so that it seemed to shine upon me. I have never +forgotten its serenity and sweetness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +I START IN A LONG WAY + + +I journeyed to Canton in the midst of the haying season. After the long +stretches of forest road we hurried along between fragrant fields of +drying hay. At each tavern we first entered the barroom where the +landlord--always a well-dressed man of much dignity and filled with the +news of the time, that being a part of his entertainment--received us +with cheerful words. His housekeeper was there and assigned our quarters +for the night. Our evenings were spent playing cards or backgammon or +listening to the chatter of our host by the fireside. At our last stop +on the road I opened my trunk and put on my best suit of clothes. + +We reached Canton at six o'clock in the evening of a beautiful summer +day. I went at once to call upon the Dunkelbergs and learned from a man +at work in the dooryard that they had gone away for the summer. How keen +was my disappointment! I went to the tavern and got my supper and then +over to Ashery Lane to see Michael Hacket and his family. I found the +schoolmaster playing his violin. + +"Now God be praised--here is Bart!" he exclaimed as he put down his +instrument and took my hands in his. "I've heard, my boy, how bravely +ye've weathered the capes an' I'm proud o' ye--that I am!" + +I wondered what he meant for a second and then asked: + +"How go these days with you?" + +"Swift as the weaver's shuttle," he answered. "Sit you down, while I +call the family. They're out in the kitchen putting the dishes away. +Many hands make light labor." + +They came quickly and gathered about me--a noisy, happy group. The +younger children kissed me and sat on my knees and gave me the small +news of the neighborhood. + +How good were the look of those friendly faces and the full-hearted +pleasure of the whole family at my coming! + +"What a joy for the spare room!" exclaimed the schoolmaster. "Sure I +wouldn't wonder if the old bed was dancin' on its four legs this very +minute." + +"I intend to walk up to the hills to-night," I said. + +"Up to the hills!" he exclaimed merrily. "An' the Hackets lyin' awake +thinkin' o' ye on the dark road! Try it, boy, an' ye'll get a crack with +the ruler and an hour after school. Yer aunt and uncle will be stronger +to stand yer comin' with the night's rest upon them. Ye wouldn't be +routin' them out o' bed an' they after a hard day with the hayin'! Then, +my kind-hearted lad, ye must give a thought to Michael Henry. He's still +alive an' stronger than ever--thank God!" + +So, although I longed for those most dear to me up in the hills, I spent +the night with the Hackets and the schoolmaster and I sat an hour +together after the family had gone to bed. + +"How are the Dunkelbergs?" I asked. + +"Sunk in the soft embrace o' luxury," he answered. "Grimshaw made him; +Grimshaw liked him. He was always ready to lick the boots o' Grimshaw. +It turned out that Grimshaw left him an annuity of three thousand +dollars, which he can enjoy as long as he observes one condition." + +"What is that?" + +"He must not let his daughter marry one Barton Baynes, late o' the town +o' Ballybeen. How is that for spite, my boy? They say it's written down +in the will." + +I think that he must have seen the flame of color playing on my face, +for he quickly added: + +"Don't worry, lad. The will o' God is greater than the will o' Grimshaw. +He made you two for each other and she will be true to ye, as true as +the needle to the north star." + +"Do you think so?" + +"Sure I do. Didn't she as much as tell me that here in this room--not a +week ago? She loves ye, boy, as true as God loves ye, an' she's a girl +of a thousand. + +"Her father is a bit too fond o' money. I've never been hard struck with +him. It has always seemed to me that he was afflicted with perfection--a +camellia man!--so invariably neat and proper and conventional! Such +precise and wearisome rectitude! What a relief it would be to see him in +his shirt-sleeves or with soiled boots or linen or to hear him say +something--well-unexpected! Six shillings a week to the church and four +to charity, as if that were the contract--no more, no less! But did ye +ever hear o' his going out o' his way to do a good thing--say to help a +poor woman left with a lot o' babies or a poor lad that wants to go to +school? 'No, I'm very sorry, but I give four shillings a week to charity +and that's all I can afford.'" + +"Why did they go away? Was it because I was coming?" + +"I think it likely, my fine lad. The man heard o' it some way--perhaps +through yer uncle. He's crazy for the money, but he'll get over that. +Leave him to me. I've a fine course o' instruction ready for my Lord o' +Dunkelberg." + +"I think I shall go and try to find her," I said. + +"I am to counsel ye about that," said the schoolmaster. "She's as keen +as a brier--the fox! She says, 'Keep away. Don't alarm him, or he'll +bundle us off to Europe for two or three years.' + +"So there's the trail ye travel, my boy. It's the one that keeps away. +Don't let him think ye've anything up the sleeve o' yer mind. Ye know, +lad, I believe Sally's mother has hold o' the same rope with her and +when two clever women get their wits together the divvle scratches his +head. It's an old sayin', lad, an' don't ye go out an' cut the rope. +Keep yer head cool an' yer heart warm and go right on with yer business. +I like the whole plan o' this remarkable courtship o' yours." + +"I guess you like it better than I do," was my answer. + +"Ah, my lad, I know the heart o' youth! Ye'd like to be puttin' yer arms +around her--wouldn't ye, now? Sure, there's time enough! You two young +colts are bein' broke' an' bitted. Ye've a chance now to show yer +quality--yer faith, yer loyalty, yer cleverness. If either one o' ye +fails that one isn't worthy o' the other. Ye're in the old treadmill o' +God--the both o' ye! Ye're bein' weighed an' tried for the great prize. +It's not pleasant, but it's better so. Go on, now, an' do yer best an' +whatever comes take it like a man." + +A little silence followed. He broke it with these words: + +"Ye're done with that business in Cobleskill, an' I'm glad. Ye didn't +know ye were bein' tried there--did ye? Ye've stood it like a man. What +will ye be doin' now?" + +"I'd like to go to Washington with the Senator." + +He laughed heartily. + +"I was hopin' ye'd say that," he went on. "Well, boy, I think it can be +arranged. I'll see the Senator as soon as ever he comes an' I believe +he'll be glad to know o' yer wishes. I think he's been hopin', like, +that ye would propose it. Go up to the farm and spend a happy month or +two with yer aunt an' uncle. It'll do ye good. Ye've been growin' plump +down there. Go an' melt it off in the fields." + +"How is Deacon Binks?" I asked presently. + +"Soul buried in fat! The sparkler on his bosom suggests a tombstone +stickin' out of a soiled snowbank." + +A little more talk and we were off to bed with our candles. + +Next morning I went down into the main street of the village before +leaving for home. I wanted to see how it looked and, to be quite frank, +I wanted some of the people of Canton to see how I looked, for my +clothes were of the best cloth and cut in the latest fashion. Many +stopped me and shook my hand--men and women who had never noticed me +before, but there was a quality in their smiles that I didn't quite +enjoy. I know now that they thought me a little too grand on the +outside. What a stern-souled lot those Yankees were! "All ain't gold +that glitters." How often I had heard that version of the old motto! + +"Why, you look like the Senator when he is just gittin' home from the +capital," said Mr. Jenison. + +They were not yet willing to take me at the par of my appearance. + +I met Betsy Price--one of my schoolmates--on the street. She was very +cordial and told me that the Dunkelbergs had gone to Saratoga. + +"I got a letter from Sally this morning," Betsy went on. "She said that +young Mr. Latour was at the same hotel and that he and her father were +good friends." + +I wonder if she really enjoyed sticking this thorn into my flesh--a +thorn which made it difficult for me to follow the advice of the +schoolmaster and robbed me of the little peace I might have enjoyed. My +faith in Sally wavered up and down until it settled at its wonted level +and reassured me. + +It was a perfect summer morning and I enjoyed my walk over the familiar +road and up into the hill country. The birds seemed to sing a welcome to +me. Men and boys I had known waved their hats in the hay-fields and +looked at me. There are few pleasures in this world like that of a boy +getting home after a long absence. My heart beat fast when I saw the +house and my uncle and Purvis coming in from the twenty-acre lot with a +load of hay. Aunt Deel stood on the front steps looking down the road. +Now and then her waving handkerchief went to her eyes. Uncle Peabody +came down the standard off his load and walked toward me. + +"Say, stranger, have you seen anything of a feller by the name o' Bart +Baynes?" he demanded. + +"Have you?" I asked. + +"No, sir, I ain't. Gosh a'mighty! Say! what have ye done with that boy +of our'n?" + +"What have you done to our house?" I asked again. + +"Built on an addition." + +"That's what I've done to your boy," I answered. + +"Thunder an' lightnin'! How you've raised the roof!" he exclaimed as he +grabbed my satchel. "Dressed like a statesman an' bigger'n a bullmoose. +I can't 'rastle with you no more. But, say, I'll run ye a race. I can +beat ye an' carry the satchel, too." + +We ran pell-mell up the lane to the steps like a pair of children. + +Aunt Deel did not speak. She just put her arms around me and laid her +dear old head upon my breast. Uncle Peabody turned away. Then what a +silence! Off in the edge of the woodland I heard the fairy flute of a +wood-thrush. + +"Purvis, you drive that load on the floor an' put up the hosses," Uncle +Peabody shouted in a moment. "If you don't like it you can hire 'nother +man. I won't do no more till after dinner. This slave business is played +out." + +"All right," Purvis answered. + +"You bet it's all right. I'm fer abolition an' I've stood your +domineerin', nigger-driver ways long enough fer one mornin'. If you +don't like it you can look for another man." + +Aunt Deel and I began to laugh at this good-natured, make-believe +scolding of Uncle Peabody and the emotional strain was over. They led me +into the house where a delightful surprise awaited me, for the rooms had +been decorated with balsam boughs and sweet ferns. A glowing mass of +violets, framed in moss, occupied the center of the table. The house was +filled with the odors of the forest, which, as they knew, were dear to +me. I had written that they might expect me some time before noon, but I +had begged them not to meet me in Canton, as I wished to walk home after +my long ride. So they were ready for me. + +I remember how they felt the cloth on my back and how proudly they +surveyed it. + +"Couldn't buy them goods 'round these parts," said Uncle Peabody. "Nor +nothin' like 'em--no, sir." + +"Feels a leetle bit like the butternut trousers," said Aunt Deel as she +felt my coat. + +"Ayes, but them butternut trousers ain't what they used to be when they +was young an' limber," Uncle Peabody remarked. "Seems so they was +gettin' kind o' wrinkled an' baldheaded-like, 'specially where I set +down." + +"Ayes! Wal I guess a man can't grow old without his pants growin' old, +too--ayes!" said Aunt Deel. + +"If yer legs are in 'em ev'ry Sunday they ketch it of ye," my uncle +answered. "Long sermons are hard on pants, seems to me." + +"An' the longer the legs the harder the sermons--in them little seats +over 't the schoolhouse--ayes!" Aunt Deel added by way of justifying his +complaint. "There wouldn't be so much wear in a ten-mile walk--no!" + +The chicken pie was baking and the strawberries were ready for the +shortcake. + +"I've been wallerin' since the dew was off gittin' them berries an' +vi'lets--ayes!" said Aunt Deel, now busy with her work at the stove. + +"Aunt, you look as young as ever," I remarked. + +She slapped my arm and said with mock severity: + +"Stop that! W'y! You know better--ayes!" + +How vigorously she stirred the fire then. + +"I can't return the compliment--my soul! how you've changed!--ayes!" +she remarked. "I hope you ain't fit no more, Bart. I can't bear to think +o' you flyin' at folks an' poundin' of 'em. Don't seem right--no, it +don't!" + +"Why, Aunt Deel, what in the world do you mean?" I asked. + +"It's Purvis's brain that does the poundin', I guess," said my uncle. +"It's kind o' got the habit. It's a reg'lar beetle brain. To hear him +talk, ye'd think he an' you could clean out the hull Mexican +nation--barrin' accidents. Why, anybody would suppose that yer enemies +go to climbin' trees as soon as they see ye comin' an' that you pull the +trees up by the roots to git at 'em." + +"A certain amount of such deviltry is necessary to the comfort of Mr. +Purvis," I remarked. "If there is nobody else to take the responsibility +for it he assumes it himself. His imagination has an intense craving for +blood and violence. It's that type of American who, egged on by the +slave power, is hurrying us into trouble with Mexico." + +Purvis came in presently with a look in his face which betrayed his +knowledge of the fact that all the cobwebs spun by his fancy were now to +be brushed away. Still he enjoyed them while they lasted and there was a +kind of tacit claim in his manner that there were subjects regarding +which no honest man could be expected to tell the truth. + +As we ate our dinner they told me that an escaped slave had come into a +neighboring county and excited the people with stories of the auction +block and of negroes driven like yoked oxen on plantations in South +Carolina, whence he had escaped on a steamboat. + +"I b'lieve I'm goin' to vote for abolition," said Uncle Peabody. "I +wonder what Sile Wright will say to that." + +"He'll probably advise against it, the time isn't ripe for so great a +change," was my answer. "He thinks that the whole matter should be left +to the glacial action of time's forces." + +Indeed I had spoken the view of the sounder men of the North. The +subject filled them with dread alarm. But the attitude of Uncle Peabody +was significant. The sentiment in favor of a change was growing. It was +now to be reckoned with, for the abolition party was said to hold the +balance of power in New York and New England and was behaving itself +like a bull in a china shop. + +After dinner I tried to put on some of my old clothes, but found that my +nakedness had so expanded that they would not cover it, so I hitched my +white mare on the spring wagon and drove to the village for my trunk. + +Every week day after that I worked in the fields until the Senator +arrived in Canton about the middle of August. On one of those happy +days I received a letter from old Kate, dated, to my surprise, in +Saratoga. It said: + + "DEAR BARTON BAYNES--I thought I would let you know that my father + is dead. I have come here to rest and have found some work to do. I + am better now. Have seen Sally. She is very beautiful and kind. She + does not know that I am the old witch, I have changed so. The + others do not know--it is better that way. I think it was the Lord + that brought me here. He has a way of taking care of some people, + my boy. Do you remember when I began to call you my boy--you were + very little. It is long, long ago since I first saw you in your + father's dooryard--you said you were going to mill on a butterfly's + back. You looked just as I thought my boy would look. You gave me a + kiss. What a wonderful gift it was to me then! I began to love you. + I have no one else to think of now. I hope you won't mind my + thinking so much of you. + + "God bless you, + KATE FULLERTON." + +I understood now why the strong will and singular insight of this woman +had so often exercised themselves in my behalf. I could not remember the +far day and the happy circumstance of which she spoke, but I wrote her a +letter which must have warmed her heart I am sure. + +Silas Wright arrived in Canton and drove up to our home. He reached our +door at eight in the morning with his hound and rifle. He had aged +rapidly since I had seen him last. His hair was almost white. There were +many new lines in his face. He seemed more grave and dignified. He did +not lapse into the dialect of his fathers when he spoke of the ancient +pastimes of hunting and fishing as he had been wont to do. + +"Bart," he said when the greetings were over, "let's you and me go and +spend a day in the woods. I'll leave my man here to help your uncle +while you're gone." + +We went by driving south a few miles and tramping in to the foot of the +stillwater on our river--a trail long familiar to me. The dog left us +soon after we took it and began to range over thick wooded hills. We sat +down among small, spire-like spruces at the river's edge with a long +stretch of water in sight while the music of the hound's voice came +faintly to our ears from the distant forest. + +"Oh, I've been dreaming of this for a long time," said the Senator as he +leaned back against a tree and filled his lungs and looked out upon the +water, green with lily-pads along the edge and flecked with the last of +the white blossoms. "I believe you want to leave this lovely country." + +"I am waiting for the call to go," I said. + +"Well, I'm inclined to think you are the kind of man who ought to go," +he answered almost sadly. "You are needed. I have been waiting until we +should meet to congratulate you on your behavior at Cobleskill. I think +you have the right spirit--that is the all-important matter. You will +encounter strange company in the game of politics. Let me tell you a +story." + +He told me many stories of his life in Washington, interrupted by a +sound like that of approaching footsteps. We ceased talking and +presently a flock of partridges came near us, pacing along over the mat +of leaves in a leisurely fashion. We sat perfectly still. A young cock +bird with his beautiful ruff standing out, like the hair on the back of +a frightened dog, strode toward us with a comic threat in his manner. It +seemed as if he were of half a mind to knock us into the river. But we +sat as still as stumps and he spared us and went on with the others. + +The baying of the hound was nearer now. Suddenly we saw a big buck come +down to the shore of the cove near us and on our side of the stream. He +looked to right and left. Then he made a long leap into the water and +waded slowly until it covered him. He raised his nose and laid his +antlers back over his shoulders and swam quietly down-stream, his nose +just showing above the water. His antlers were like a bit of driftwood. +If we had not seen him take the water his antlers might easily have +passed for a bunch of dead sticks. Soon the buck slowly lifted his head +and turned his neck and looked at both shores. Then very deliberately he +resumed his place under water and went on. We watched him as he took the +farther shore below us and made off in the woods again. + +"I couldn't shoot at him, it was such a beautiful bit of politics," said +the Senator. + +Soon the hound reached the cove's edge and swam the river and ranged up +and down the bank for half an hour before he found the buck's trail +again. + +"I've seen many a rascal, driven to water by the hounds, go swimming +away as slyly as that buck, with their horns in the air, looking as +innocent as a bit of driftwood. They come in from both shores--the Whig +and the Democratic--and they are always shot at from one bank or the +other." + +I remember it surprised me a little to hear him say that they came in +from both shores. + +"Just what do you want to do?" he asked presently. + +"I should like to go down to Washington with you and help you in any way +that I can." + +"All right, partner--we'll try it," he answered gravely. "I hope that I +don't forget and work you as hard as I work myself. It wouldn't be +decent. I have a great many letters to write. I'll try thinking out +loud while you take them down in sound-hand. Then you can draft them +neatly and I'll sign them. You have tact and good manners and can do +many of my errands for me and save me from those who have no good reason +for taking up my time. You will meet the best people and the worst. +There's just a chance that it may come to something worth while--who +knows? You are young yet. It will be good training and you will witness +the making of some history now and then." + +What elation I felt! + +Again the voice of the hound which had been ringing in the distant hills +was coming nearer. + +"We must keep watch--another deer is coming," said the Senator. + +We had only a moment's watch before a fine yearling buck came down to +the opposite shore and stood looking across the river. The Senator +raised his rifle and fired. The buck fell in the edge of the water. + +"How shall we get him?" my friend asked. + +"It will not be difficult," I answered as I began to undress. Nothing +was difficult those days. I swam the river and towed the buck across +with a beech withe in his gambrel joints. The hound joined me before I +was half across with my burden and nosed the carcass and swam on ahead +yelping with delight. + +We dressed the deer and then I had the great joy of carrying him on my +back two miles across the country to the wagon. The Senator wished to +send a guide for the deer, but I insisted that the carrying was my +privilege. + +"Well, I guess your big thighs and broad shoulders can stand it," said +he. + +"My uncle has always said that no man could be called a hunter until he +can go into the woods without a guide and kill a deer and bring it out +on his back. I want to be able to testify that I am at least partly +qualified." + +"Your uncle didn't say anything about fetching the deer across a deep +river without a boat, did he?" Mr. Wright asked me with a smile. + +Leaves of the beeches, maples and basswoods--yellowed by frost--hung +like tiny lanterns, glowing with noonday light, above the dim +forest-aisle which we traveled. + +The sun was down when we got to the clearing. + +"What a day it has been!" said Mr. Wright when we were seated in the +wagon at last with the hound and the deer's head between his feet and +mine. + +"One of the best in my life," I answered with a joy in my heart the like +of which I have rarely known in these many years that have come to me. + +We rode on in silence with the calls of the swamp robin and the hermit +thrush ringing in our ears as the night fell. + +"It's a good time to think, and there we take different roads," said my +friend. "You will turn into the future and I into the past." + +"I've been thinking about your uncle," he said by and by. "He is one of +the greatest men I have ever known. You knew of that foolish gossip +about him--didn't you?" + +"Yes," I answered. + +"Well, now, he's gone about his business the same as ever and showed by +his life that it couldn't be true. Not a word out of him! But Dave +Ramsey fell sick--down on the flat last winter. By and by his children +were crying for bread and the poor-master was going to take charge of +them. Well, who should turn up there, just in the nick of time, but +Delia and Peabody Baynes. They fed those children all winter and kept +them in clothes so that they could go to school. The strange thing about +it is this: it was Dave Ramsey who really started that story. He got up +in church the other night and confessed his crime. His conscience +wouldn't let him keep it. He said that he had not seen Peabody Baynes on +that road the day the money was lost but had only heard that he was +there. He knew now that he couldn't have been there. Gosh t'almighty! +as your uncle used to say when there was nothing else to be said." + +It touched me to the soul--this long-delayed vindication of my beloved +Uncle Peabody. + +The Senator ate supper with us and sent his hired man out for his horse +and buggy. When he had put on his overcoat and was about to go he turned +to my uncle and said: + +"Peabody Baynes, if I have had any success in the world it is because I +have had the exalted honor and consciousness that I represented men like +you." + +He left us and we sat down by the glowing candles. Soon I told them what +Ramsey had done. There was a moment of silence. Uncle Peabody rose and +went to the water-pail for a drink. + +"Bart, I believe I'll plant corn on that ten-acre lot next +spring--darned if I don't," he said as he returned to his chair. + +None of us ever spoke of the matter again to my knowledge. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +ON THE SUMMIT + + +My mental assets would give me a poor rating I presume in the commerce +of modern scholarship when I went to Washington that autumn with Senator +and Mrs. Wright. Still it was no smattering that I had, but rather a few +broad areas of knowledge which were firmly in my possession. I had +acquired, quite by myself since leaving the academy, a fairly +serviceable reading knowledge of French; I had finished the _AEneid_; I +had read the tragedies of Shakespeare and could repeat from them many +striking passages; I had read the histories of Abbott and the works of +Washington Irving and certain of the essays of Carlyle and Macaulay. My +best asset was not mental but spiritual, if I may be allowed to say it, +in all modesty, for, therein I claim no special advantage, saving, +possibly, an unusual strength of character in my aunt and uncle. Those +days the candles were lighting the best trails of knowledge all over the +land. Never has the general spirit of this republic been so high and +admirable as then and a little later. It was to speak, presently, in +the immortal voices of Whittier, Emerson, Whitman, Greeley and Lincoln. +The dim glow of the candles had entered their souls and out of them came +a light that filled the land and was seen of all men. What became of +this mighty spirit of democracy? My friend, it broke down and came near +its death in a long, demoralizing war which gave to our young men a +thorough four-year course in the ancient school of infamy. + +The railroads on which we traveled from Utica, the great cities through +which we passed, were a wonder and an inspiration to me. I was awed by +the grandeur of Washington itself. I took lodgings with the Senator and +his wife. + +"Now, Bart," said he, when we had arrived, "I'm going to turn you loose +here for a little while before I put harness on you. Go about for a week +or so and get the lay of the land and the feel of it. Mrs. Wright will +be your guide until the general situation has worked its way into your +consciousness." + +It seemed to me that there was not room enough in my consciousness for +the great public buildings and the pictures and the statues and the vast +machinery of the government. Beauty and magnitude have a wonderful +effect when they spring fresh upon the vision of a youth out of the back +country. I sang of the look of them in my letters and soon I began to +think about them and imperfectly to understand them. They had their +epic, lyric and dramatic stages in my consciousness. + +One afternoon we went to hear Senator Wright speak. He was to answer +Calhoun on a detail of the banking laws. The floor and galleries were +filled. With what emotion I saw him rise and begin his argument as all +ears bent to hear him! He aimed not at popular sentiments in highly +finished rhetoric, as did Webster, to be quoted in the school-books and +repeated on every platform. But no words of mine--and I have used many +in the effort--are able to convey a notion of the masterful ease and +charm of his manner on the floor of the Senate or of the singular +modesty, courtesy, aptness and simplicity of his words as they fell from +his lips. There were the thunderous Webster, the grandeur of whose +sentences no American has equaled; the agile-minded Clay, whose voice +was like a silver clarion; the farseeing, fiery Calhoun, of "the swift +sword"--most formidable in debate--but I was soon to learn that neither +nor all of these men--gifted of heaven so highly--could cope with the +suave, incisive, conversational sentences of Wright, going straight to +the heart of the subject and laying it bare to his hearers. That was +what people were saying as we left the Senate chamber, late in the +evening; that, indeed, was what they were always saying after they had +heard him answer an adversary. + +He had a priceless and unusual talent for avoiding school-reader English +and the arts of declamation and for preparing a difficult subject to +enter the average brain. The underlying secret of his power was soon +apparent to me. He stood always for that great thing in America which, +since then, Whitman has called "the divine aggregate," and seeing +clearly how every measure would be likely to affect its welfare, he +followed the compass. It had led him to a height of power above all +others and was to lead him unto the loneliest summit of accomplishment +in American history. + +Not much in my term of service there is important to this little task of +mine. I did my work well, if I may believe the Senator, and grew +familiar with the gentle and ungentle arts of the politician. + +One great fact grew in magnitude and sullen portent as the months +passed: the gigantic slave-holding interests of the South viewed with +growing alarm the spread of abolition sentiment. Subtly, quietly and +naturally they were feeling for the means to defend and increase their +power. Straws were coming to the surface in that session which betrayed +this deep undercurrent of purpose. We felt it and the Senator was +worried I knew, but held his peace. He knew how to keep his opinions +until the hour had struck that summoned them to service. The Senator +never played with his lance. By and by Spencer openly sounded the note +of conflict. + +The most welcome year of my life dawned on the first of January, 1844. I +remember that I arose before daylight that morning and dressed and went +out on the street to welcome it. + +I had less than six months to wait for that day appointed by Sally. I +had no doubt that she would be true to me. I had had my days of fear and +depression, but always my sublime faith in her came back in good time. + +Oh, yes, indeed, Washington was a fair of beauty and gallantry those +days. I saw it all. I have spent many years in the capital and I tell +you the girls of that time had manners and knew how to wear their +clothes, but again the magic of old memories kept my lady on her throne. +There was one of them--just one of those others who, I sometimes +thought, was almost as graceful and charming and noble-hearted as Sally, +and she liked me I know, but the ideal of my youth glowed in the light +of the early morning, so to speak, and was brighter than all others. +Above all, I had given my word to Sally and--well, you know, the +old-time Yankee of good stock was fairly steadfast, whatever else may be +said of him--often a little too steadfast, as were Ben Grimshaw and +Squire Fullerton. + +The Senator and I went calling that New Year's day. We saw all the great +people and some of them were more cheerful than they had a right to be. +It was a weakness of the time. I shall not go into details for fear of +wandering too far from my main road. Let me step aside a moment to say, +however, that there were two clouds in the sky of the Washington society +of those days. One was strong drink and the other was the crude, +rough-coated, aggressive democrat from the frontiers of the West. These +latter were often seen in the holiday regalia of farm or village at +fashionable functions. Some of them changed slowly and, by and by, +reached the stage of white linen and diamond breast-pins and waistcoats +of figured silk. It must be said, however, that their motives were +always above their taste. + +The winter wore away slowly in hard work. Mr. Van Buren came down to see +the Senator one day from his country seat on the Hudson. The +Ex-president had been solicited to accept the nomination again. I know +that Senator Wright strongly favored the plan but feared that the South +would defeat him in convention, it being well known that Van Buren was +opposed to the annexation of Texas--a pet project of the slave-holders. +However, he advised his friend to make a fight for the nomination and +this the latter resolved to do. Thenceforward until middle May I gave my +time largely to the inditing of letters for the Senator in Van Buren's +behalf. + +The time appointed for the convention in Baltimore drew near. One day +the Senator received an intimation that he would be put in nomination if +Van Buren failed. Immediately he wrote to Judge Fine, of Ogdensburg, +chairman of the delegation from the northern district of New York, +forbidding such use of his name on the ground that his acquiescence +would involve disloyalty to his friend the Ex-president. + +He gave me leave to go to the convention on my way home to meet Sally. I +had confided to Mrs. Wright the details of my little love affair--I had +to--and she had shown a tender, sympathetic interest in the story. + +The Senator had said to me one day, with a gentle smile: + +"Bart, you have business in Canton, I believe, with which trifling +matters like the choice of a president and the Mexican question can not +be permitted to interfere. You must take time to spend a day or two at +the convention in Baltimore on your way.... Report to our friend Fine, +who will look after your comfort there. The experience ought to be +useful to a young man who, I hope, will have work to do in future +conventions." + +I took the stage to Baltimore next day--the twenty-sixth of May. The +convention thrilled me--the flags, the great crowd, the bands, the +songs, the speeches, the cheering--I see and hear it all in my talk. The +uproar lasted for twenty minutes when Van Buren's name was put in +nomination. + +Then the undercurrent! The slave interest of the South was against him +as Wright had foreseen. The deep current of its power had undermined +certain of the northern and western delegations. Ostensibly for Van +Buren and stubbornly casting their ballots for him, they had voted for +the two-thirds rule, which had accomplished his defeat before the +balloting began. It continued for two days without a choice. The enemy +stood firm. After adjournment that evening many of the Van Buren +delegates were summoned to a conference. I attended it with Judge Fine. + +The Ex-president had withdrawn and requested his friends in the +convention to vote for Silas Wright. My emotions can be more readily +imagined than described when I heard the shouts of enthusiasm which +greeted my friend's name. Tears began to roll down my cheeks. Judge Fine +lifted his hand. When order was at last restored he began: + +"Gentlemen, as a friend of the learned Senator and as a resident of the +county which is the proud possessor of his home, your enthusiasm has a +welcome sound to me; but I happen to know that Senator Wright will not +allow his name to go before the convention." + +He read the letter of which I knew. + +Mr. Benjamin F. Butler then said: + +"When that letter was written Senator Wright was not aware that Mr. Van +Buren's nomination could not be accomplished, nor was he aware that his +own nomination would be the almost unanimous wish of this convention. I +have talked with the leading delegates from Missouri and Virginia +to-day. They say that he can be nominated by acclamation. Is it possible +that he--a strong party man--can resist this unanimous call of the party +with whose help he has won immortal fame? No, it is not so. It can not +be so. We must dispatch a messenger to him by horse at once who shall +take to him from his friend Judge Fine a frank statement of the +imperious demand of this convention and a request that he telegraph a +withdrawal of his letter in the morning." + +The suggestion was unanimously approved and within an hour, mounted on +one of the best horses in Maryland--so his groom informed me--I was on +my way to Washington with the message of Judge Fine in my pocket. Yes, I +had two days to spare on my schedule of travel and reckoned that, by +returning to Baltimore next day I should reach Canton in good time. + +It was the kind of thing that only a lithe, supple, strong-hearted lad +such as I was in the days of my youth, could relish--speeding over a +dark road by the light of the stars and a half-moon, with a horse that +loved to kick up a wind. My brain was in a fever, for the notion had +come to me that I was making history. + +The lure of fame and high place hurried me on. With the Senator in the +presidential chair I should be well started in the highway of great +success. Then Mr. H. Dunkelberg might think me better than the legacy of +Benjamin Grimshaw. A relay awaited me twenty-three miles down the road. + +Well, I reached Washington very sore, but otherwise in good form, soon +after daybreak. I was trembling with excitement when I put my horse in +the stable and rang the bell at our door. It seemed to me that I was +crossing the divide between big and little things. A few steps more and +I should be looking down into the great valley of the future. Yet, now +that I was there, I began to lose confidence. + +The butler opened the door. + +Yes, the Senator was up and had just returned from a walk and was in his +study. I found him there. + +"Well, Bart, how does this happen?" he asked. + +"It's important business," I said, as I presented the letter. + +Something in his look and manner as he calmly adjusted his glasses and +read the letter of Judge Fine brought the blood to my face. It seemed to +puncture my balloon, so to speak, and I was falling toward the earth and +so swiftly my head swam. He laid the letter on his desk and, without +looking up and as coolly as if he were asking for the change of a +dollar, queried: + +"Well, Bart, what do you think we had better do about it?" + +"I--I was hoping--you--you would take it," I stammered. + +"That's because the excitement of the convention is on you," he +answered. "Let us look at the compass. They have refused to nominate Mr. +Van Buren because he is opposed to the annexation of Texas. On that +subject the will of the convention is now clear. It is possible that +they would nominate me. We don't know about that, we never shall know. +If they did, and I accepted, what would be expected of me is also clear. +They would expect me to abandon my principles and that course of conduct +which I conceive to be best for the country. Therefore I should have to +accept it under false pretenses and take their yoke upon me. Would you +think the needle pointed that way?" + +"No," I answered. + +Immediately he turned to his desk and wrote the telegram which fixed his +place in history. It said no. + +Into the lives of few men has such a moment fallen. I am sure the Lord +God must have thought it worth a thousand years of the world's toil. It +was that moment in the life of a great leader when Satan shows him the +kingdoms of the earth and their glory. I looked at him with a feeling of +awe. What sublime calmness and serenity was in his face! As if it were a +mere detail in the work of the day, and without a moment's faltering, he +had declined a crown, for he would surely have been nominated and +elected. He rose and stood looking out of the open window. Always I +think of him standing there with the morning sunlight falling upon his +face and shoulders. He had observed my emotion and I think it had +touched him a little. There was a moment of silence. A curious illusion +came to me then, for it seemed as if I heard the sound of distant music. +Looking thoughtfully out of the window he asked: + +"Bart, do you know when our first fathers turned out of the trail of the +beast and found the long road of humanity? I think it was when they +discovered the compass in their hearts." + +So now at last we have come to that high and lonely place, where we may +look back upon the toilsome, adventurous way we have traveled with the +aid of the candle and the compass. Now let us stop a moment to rest and +to think. How sweet the air is here! The night is falling. I see the +stars in the sky. Just below me is the valley of Eternal Silence. You +will understand my haste now. I have sought only to do justice to my +friend and to give my country a name, long neglected, but equal in glory +to those of Washington and Lincoln. + +Come, let us take one last look together down the road we have traveled, +now dim in the evening shadows. Scattered along it are the little houses +of the poor of which I have written. See the lights in the windows--the +lights that are shining into the souls of the young--the eager, open, +expectant, welcoming souls of the young!--and the light carries many +things, but best of all a respect for the old, unchanging way of the +compass. After all that is the end and aim of the whole matter--believe +me. + +My life has lengthened into these days when most of our tasks are +accomplished by machinery. We try to make men by the thousand, in vast +educational machines, and no longer by the one as of old. It was the +loving, forgiving, forbearing, patient, ceaseless toil of mother and +father on the tender soul of childhood, which quickened that +inextinguishable sense of responsibility to God and man in these people +whom I now leave to the judgment of my countrymen. + +I have lived to see the ancient plan of kingcraft, for self-protection, +coming back into the world. It demands that the will and conscience of +every individual shall be regulated and controlled by some conceited +prince, backed by an army. It can not fail, I foresee, to accomplish +such devastation in the human spirit as shall imperil the dearest +possession of man. + +If one is to follow the compass he can have but one king--his God. + + * * * * * + +I am near the end. I rode back to Baltimore that forenoon. They had +nominated Mr. Polk, of Tennessee, for president and Silas Wright for +vice-president, the latter by acclamation. I knew that Wright would +decline the honor, as he did. + +I hurried northward to keep my appointment with Sally. The boats were +slowed by fog. At Albany I was a day behind my schedule. I should have +only an hour's leeway if the boats on the upper lakes and the stage from +Plattsburg were on time. I feared to trust them. So I caught the +west-bound train and reached Utica three hours late. There I bought a +good horse and his saddle and bridle and hurried up the north road. When +he was near spent I traded him for a well-knit Morgan mare up in the +little village of Sandy Creek. Oh, I knew a good horse as well as the +next man and a better one than she I never owned--never. I was back in +my saddle at six in the afternoon and stopped for feed and an hour's +rest at nine and rode on through the night. I reached the hamlet of +Richville soon after daybreak and put out for a rest of two hours. I +could take it easy then. At seven o'clock the mare and I started again, +well fed and eager to go on. + +It was a summer morning that shortens the road--even that of the young +lover. Its air was sweet with the breath of the meadows. The daisies and +the clover and the cornflowers and the wild roses seemed to be waving a +welcome to me and the thorn trees--shapely ornament of my native +hills--were in blossom. A cloud of pigeons swept across the blue deep +above my head. The great choir of the fields sang to me--bobolinks, song +sparrows, meadowlarks, bluebirds, warblers, wrens, and far away in the +edge of a spruce thicket I heard the flute of the white-throated sparrow +in this refrain: + +[Illustration: Music.] + +When, years later, I heard the wedding march in Lohengrin I knew where +Wagner had got his theme. + +I bathed at a brook in the woods and put on a clean silk shirt and tie +out of my saddlebags. I rode slowly then to the edge of the village of +Canton and turned at the bridge and took the river road, although I had +time to spare. How my heart was beating as I neared the familiar scene! +The river slowed its pace there, like a discerning traveler, to enjoy +the beauty of its shores. Smooth and silent was the water and in it were +the blue of the sky and the feathery shadow-spires of cedar and tamarack +and the reflected blossoms of iris and meadow rue. It was a lovely +scene. + +There was the pine, but where was my lady? I dismounted and tied my mare +and looked at my watch. It lacked twenty minutes of eleven. She would +come--I had no doubt of it. I washed my hands and face and neck in the +cool water. Suddenly I heard a voice I knew singing: _Barney Leave the +Girls Alone_. I turned and saw--your mother, my son[1]. She was in the +stern of a birch canoe, all dressed in white with roses in her hair. I +raised my hat and she threw a kiss at me. Old Kate sat in the bow waving +her handkerchief. They stopped and Sally asked in a tone of playful +seriousness: + +[Footnote 1: These last lines were dictated to his son.] + +"Young man, why have you come here?" + +"To get you," I answered. + +"What do you want of me?" She was looking at her face in the water. + +"I want to marry you," I answered bravely. + +"Then you may help me ashore if you please. I am in my best, white +slippers and you are to be very careful." + +Beautiful! She was the spirit of the fields of June then and always. + +I helped her ashore and held her in my arms and, you know, the lips +have a way of speaking then in the old, convincing, final argument of +love. They left no doubt in our hearts, my son. + +"When do you wish to marry me?" she whispered. + +"As soon as possible, but my pay is only sixty dollars a month now." + +"We shall make it do," she answered. "My mother and father and your aunt +and uncle and the Hackets and the minister and a number of our friends +are coming in a fleet of boats." + +"We are prepared either for a picnic or a wedding," was the whisper of +Kate. + +"Let's make it both," I proposed to Sally. + +"Surely there couldn't be a better place than here under the big +pine--it's so smooth and soft and shady," said she. + +"Nor could there be a better day or better company," I urged, for I was +not sure that she would agree. + +The boats came along. Sally and I waved a welcome from the bank and she +merrily proclaimed: + +"It's to be a wedding." + +Then a cheer from the boats, in which I joined. + +I shall never forget how, when the company had landed and the greetings +were over, Uncle Peabody approached your mother and said: + +"Say, Sally, I'm goin' to plant a kiss on both o' them red cheeks o' +yours, an' do it deliberate, too." He did it and so did Aunt Deel and +old Kate, and I think that, next to your mother and me, they were the +happiest people at the wedding. + + * * * * * + +There is a lonely grave up in the hills--that of the stranger who died +long ago on Rattleroad. One day I found old Kate sitting beside it and +on a stone lately erected there was the name, Enoch Rone. + +"It is very sorrowful," she whispered. "He was trying to find me when he +died." + +We walked on in silence while I recalled the circumstances. How strange +that those tales of blood and lawless daring which Kate had given to +Amos Grimshaw had led to the slaying of her own son! Yet, so it +happened, and the old wives will tell you the story up there in the +hills. + +The play ends just as the night is falling with Kate and me entering the +little home, so familiar now, where she lives and is ever welcome with +Aunt Deel and Uncle Peabody. The latter meets us at the door and is +saying in a cheerful voice: + +"Come in to supper, you rovers. How solemn ye look! Say, if you expect +Sally and me to do all the laughin' here you're mistaken. There's a lot +of it to be done right now, an' it's time you j'ined in. We ain't done +nothin' but laugh since we got up, an' we're in need o' help. What's the +matter, Kate? Look up at the light in God's winder. How bright it shines +to-night! When I feel bad I always look at the stars." + + +THE END + + + + +EPILOGUE + +_Wanted by all the people_-- +A servant +Born of those who serve and aspire +Who has known want and trouble +And all that passes in The Little House of the Poor: + Lonely thought, counsels of love and prudence, + The happiness born of a penny, + The need of the strange and mighty dollar + And the love of things above all its power of measurement. + The dreams that come of weariness and the hard bed, + The thirst for learning as a Great Deliverer. +Who has felt in his heart the weakness and the strength of his brothers +And, above all, the divinity that dwells in them. +Who, therefore, shall have faith in men and women +And knowledge of their wrongs and needs and of their proneness to error. +Humbly must he listen to their voice, as one who knows that God will + often speak in it, +And have charity even for his own judgments. +Thus removed, far removed from the conceit and vanity of Princes +Shall he know how great is the master he has chosen to serve. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIGHT IN THE CLEARING*** + + +******* This file should be named 14150.txt or 14150.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/1/5/14150 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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