diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:50:26 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:50:26 -0700 |
| commit | 810818d1128e28ffce4fe3339b8d08547414daef (patch) | |
| tree | 5341864111da65a7757076098766822e4dc98084 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 1347076 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/17156-h.htm | 9449 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-020.jpg | bin | 0 -> 25722 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-027.jpg | bin | 0 -> 50221 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-046.jpg | bin | 0 -> 33253 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-053.jpg | bin | 0 -> 21591 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-068.jpg | bin | 0 -> 37441 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-075.jpg | bin | 0 -> 48486 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-082.jpg | bin | 0 -> 14682 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-105.jpg | bin | 0 -> 53656 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-113.jpg | bin | 0 -> 50455 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-120.jpg | bin | 0 -> 39989 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-124.jpg | bin | 0 -> 15534 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-129.jpg | bin | 0 -> 26056 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-141.jpg | bin | 0 -> 15157 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-148.jpg | bin | 0 -> 19521 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-159.jpg | bin | 0 -> 47677 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-165.jpg | bin | 0 -> 44554 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-187.jpg | bin | 0 -> 15378 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-191.jpg | bin | 0 -> 18908 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-193.jpg | bin | 0 -> 51901 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-201.jpg | bin | 0 -> 48063 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-209.jpg | bin | 0 -> 30399 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-225.jpg | bin | 0 -> 61085 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-235.jpg | bin | 0 -> 51057 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-242.jpg | bin | 0 -> 35938 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-254.jpg | bin | 0 -> 20945 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-259.jpg | bin | 0 -> 31667 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-267.jpg | bin | 0 -> 51549 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-286.jpg | bin | 0 -> 18674 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-296.jpg | bin | 0 -> 29726 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-299.jpg | bin | 0 -> 57740 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-319.jpg | bin | 0 -> 34516 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-332.jpg | bin | 0 -> 13051 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-333.jpg | bin | 0 -> 58304 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156-h/images/img-front.jpg | bin | 0 -> 41346 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156.txt | 6590 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17156.zip | bin | 0 -> 123695 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
41 files changed, 16055 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17156-h.zip b/17156-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..26ffd7f --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h.zip diff --git a/17156-h/17156-h.htm b/17156-h/17156-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cad96eb --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/17156-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9449 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Soldier of the Valley, by Nelson Lloyd</title> +<style type="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: medium; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; margin-left: 10%; font-size: small } + +P.letter {font-size: small } + + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 70%;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 align="center">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Soldier of the Valley, by Nelson Lloyd, +Illustrated by A. B. Frost</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Soldier of the Valley</p> +<p>Author: Nelson Lloyd</p> +<p>Release Date: November 26, 2005 [eBook #17156]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Al Haines</h3></center><br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="They called to me as a boy." BORDER="2" WIDTH="350" HEIGHT="582"> +<H4> +[Frontispiece: They called to me as a boy.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +NELSON LLOYD +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATED BY +<BR><BR> +A. B. FROST +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS +<BR><BR> +NEW YORK —————— 1904 +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY +<BR><BR> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS +<BR><BR><BR> +Published, September, 1904 +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +TABLE OF CONTENTS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> +<TR ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap01">Chapter I</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap06">Chapter VI</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap11">Chapter XI</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap16">Chapter XVI</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap02">Chapter II</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap07">Chapter VII</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap12">Chapter XII</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap17">Chapter XVII</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap03">Chapter III</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap08">Chapter VIII</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap13">Chapter XIII</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap18">Chapter XVIII</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap04">Chapter IV</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap09">Chapter IX</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap14">Chapter XIV</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap15">Chapter XV</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap05">Chapter V</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap10">Chapter X</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap15">Chapter XV</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#chap20">Chapter XX</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +They called to me as a boy ……… <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-020"> +"Welcome home—thrice welcome!" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-027"> +Tim and I had stopped our ploughs to draw lots and +he had lost +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-046"> +"Well, old chap!" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-053"> +Josiah Nummler +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-068"> +He did not stop to hear my answer +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-075"> +Swearing terrible oaths that he will never return +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-082"> +No answer came from the floor above +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-105"> +The tiger story +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-113"> +He had a last look at Black Log +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-120"> +"He pumped me dry" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-124"> +"Nanny is likely to get one of her religious spells +and quit work" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-129"> +I was back in my prison +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-141"> +"'At my sover-sover-yne's will'" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-148"> +Perry Thomas stands confronting the English warrior +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-159"> +"You'll begin to think you ain't there at all" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-165"> +I saw a girl on the store porch +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-187"> +Aaron Kallaberger +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-191"> +Leander +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-193"> +"Her name was Pinky Binn, a dotter of the house of Binn, +the Binns of Turkey Walley" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-201"> +William had felt the hand of "Doogulus" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-209"> +"Aren't you coming?" young Colonel seemed to say +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-225"> +Sat little Colonel, wailing +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-235"> +The main thing was proper nursing +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-242"> +Well, ain't he tasty +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-254"> +"But there are no ghosts," I argued +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-259"> +"Of course it hurts me a bit here" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-267"> +"An seein' a light in the room, I looked in" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-286"> +Tip Pulsifer leaned on my gate +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-296"> +The horse went down +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-299"> +"And I'm his widder" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-319"> +Then Tim came +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-332"> +Old Captain +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-333"> +When we three sit by the fire +</A> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H3> + +<P> +I was a soldier. I was a hero. You notice my tenses are past. I am a +simple school-teacher now, a prisoner in Black Log. There are no bars +to my keep, only the wall of mountains that make the valley; and look +at them on a clear day, when sunshine and shadow play over their green +slopes, when the clouds all white and gold swing lazily in the blue +above them, and they speak of freedom and of life immeasurable. There +are no chains to my prison, no steel cuffs to gall the limbs, no guards +to threaten and cow me. Yet here I stay year after year. Here I was +born and here I shall die. +</P> + +<P> +I am a traveller. In my mind I have gone the world over, and those +wanderings have been unhampered by the limitations of mere time, for I +know my India of the First Century as well as that of the Twentieth, +and the China of Confucius is as real to me as that of Kwang Su. +Without stirring from my little porch down here in the valley I have +pierced the African jungles and surveyed the Arctic ice-floes. Often +the mountains call me to come again, to climb them, to see the real +world beyond, to live in it, to be of it, but I am a prisoner. They +called to me as a boy, when wandering over the hills, I looked away to +them, and over them, into the mysterious blue, picturing my India and +my China, my England and my Russia in a geographical jumble that began +just beyond the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +Then I was a prisoner in the dungeons of Youth and my mother was my +jailer. The day came when I was free, and forth I went full of hope, +twenty-three years old by the family Bible, with a strong, agile body +and a homely face. I went as a soldier. For months I saw what is +called the world; I had glimpses of cities; I slept beneath the palms; +I crossed a sea and touched the tropics. Marching beneath a blazing +sun, huddling from the storm in the scant shelter of the tent, my +spirits were always keyed to the highest by the thought that I was +seeing life and that these adventures were but a fore-taste of those to +come. But one day when we marched beneath the blazing sun, we met a +storm and found no shelter. We charged through a hail of steel. They +took me to the sea on a stretcher, and by and by they shipped me home. +Then it was that I was a hero—when I came again to Black Log—what was +left of me. +</P> + +<P> +My people were very kind. They sent Henry Holmes's double phaeton to +the county town to meet my train, and as I stumbled from the car, being +new to my crutches, I fell into the arms of a reception committee. Tim +was there. And my little brother fought the others off and picked me +up and carried me, as I had carried him in the old days when he was a +toddling youngster and I a sturdy boy. But he was six feet two now and +I had wasted to a shadow. Perry Thomas had a speech prepared. He is +our orator, our prize debater, our township statesman, and his +frock-coat tightly buttoned across his chest, his unusually high and +stiffly starched collar, his repeated coughing as he hovered on the +outskirts of the crowd, told me plainly that he had an address to make. +Henry Holmes, indeed, asked me to stand still just one minute, and I +divined instantly that he was working in the interest of oratory; but +Tim spoiled it all by running off with me and tossing me into the +phaeton. +</P> + +<P> +So in the state-coach of Black Log, drawn by Isaac Bolum's +lemon-colored mules, with the committee rattling along behind in a +spring wagon, politely taking our dust, I came home once more, over the +mountains, into the valley. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes I wonder if I shall ever make another journey as long as that +one. Sometimes I have ventured as far as the gap, and peeped into the +broad open country, and caught the rumble of the trains down by the +river. There is one of the world's highways, but the toll is great, +and a crippled soldier with a scanty pension and a pittance from his +school is wiser to keep to the ways he knows. +</P> + +<P> +And how I know the ways of the valley! That day when we rode into it +every tree seemed to be waving its green arms in salute. As we swung +through the gap, around the bend at the saw-mill and into the open +country, checkered brown and yellow by fields new-ploughed and fields +of stubble, a flock of killdeer arose on the air and screamed a +welcome. In their greeting there seemed a taunting note as though they +knew they had no more to fear from me and could be generous. I saw +every crook in the fence, every rut in the road, every bush and tree +long before we came to it. But six months had I been away, yet in that +time I had lived half my life, and now I was so changed that it seemed +strange to find the valley as fat and full as ever, stretched out there +in the sunshine in a quiet, smiling slumber. +</P> + +<P> +"Things are just the same, Mark, you'll notice," said Tim, pointing to +a hole in the flooring of the bridge over which we were passing. +</P> + +<P> +The valley had been driving around that same danger spot these ten +years. There was a world of meaning to the returning wanderer in that +broken plank, and it was not hard to catch the glance of my brother's +eye and to know his mind. +</P> + +<P> +Henry Holmes on the front seat, driving, caught the inflection of Tim's +voice and cried testily: "You are allus runnin' the walley down. Why +don't you tell him about the improvements instead of pintin' out the +bad spots in the road?" +</P> + +<P> +"Improvements?" said I, in a tone of inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"Theop Jones has bought him a new side-bar buggy," replied the old man. +"Then the Kallabergers has moved in from the country and is fixin' up +the Harmon house at the end of the town." +</P> + +<P> +"And a be-yutiful place they're makin' of it," cried Isaac Bolum; +"be-yutiful!" +</P> + +<P> +"They've added a fancy porch," Henry explained, "and are gittin' blue +glass panes for the front door." +</P> + +<P> +"We've three spring-beds in town now," put in Isaac in his slow, dreamy +way. "If I mind right the Spikers bought theirs before war was +declared, so you've seen that one. Well, Piney Martin he has got him +one—let me see—when did he git it, Henery?" +</P> + +<P> +Old Holmes furrowed his brow and closed one eye, seeking with the other +the inspiration of the sky. +</P> + +<P> +"July sixth," he answered. "Don't you mind, Ike, it come the same day +and on the wery same stage as the news of the sinkin' of the Spaynish +fleet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense," retorted Isaac. "You're allus mixin' dates, Henery. +You're thinkin' of Tip Pulsifer's last baby. He come July six, for +don't you mind how they called him Cevery out of pity and generosity +for the Spayniards? Piney's spring-bed arrived the same day and on the +same stage as brung us the news of Mark here havin' his left leg shot +off." +</P> + +<P> +"Mebbe—mebbe—mebbe," muttered Henry, shaking his head dubiously. "It +certainly do beat all how things happens all at once in this world. +Come to think of it, the wery next day six of my sheep was killed by +dogs." +</P> + +<P> +"It's good you're gittin' your dates cleared," snapped old Bolum. "On +history, Henery Holmes, you are the worst." +</P> + +<P> +Henry retorted with an angry protest against the indictment, declaring +that he was studying history when Bolum was being nourished on "soft +food." That was true. Isaac admitted it frankly. He wasn't his +mother's keeper, that he could regulate his own birthday. Had that +been in his power he would certainly have set it a half century earlier +or later to avoid being constantly annoyed by the "onreasonablest +argeyments" Six Stars had ever heard. This made old Holmes smile +softly, and he turned and winked at me. The one thing he had ever been +thankful for, he said, was that his life had fallen with that of Isaac +Bolum. Whenever he done wrong; whenever the consciousness of sin was +upon him and he needed the chastisin' rod, he just went to the store +and set and listened to Ike. To this Isaac retorted that it was a +wonder the rod had not worn out long ago; it was pleasing to know, at +least, that he was made of tough old hickory. Henry admitted this to +be a "good 'un" on him—an unusual one, considering the source—but +that did not settle the exact date of the arrival of Piney Martin's +spring-bed. +</P> + +<P> +It was time for me to protest that it mattered little whether the event +occurred on July sixth or a week later, since what really interested me +was the question as to who was the owner of the third of these +luxuries. Isaac's serious, self-conscious look answered me, but I +pressed the inquiry to give him an opportunity to sing the praises of +this newest of his household gods. Mr. Bolum's pleasure was evident. +Once launched into an account of the comfort of springs as compared to +a straw-tick on ropes, he would have monopolized our attention to the +end of the journey, but the sagacious Henry blocked him rudely by a tug +at the reins which almost threw the lemon-colored mules on their +haunches. +</P> + +<P> +We were at the foot of the slope where the road to Buzzards Glory +branches from the pike. The Arkers had spied us coming, and ran down +from the tannery to greet us. Arnold, after he had a dozen times +expressed his delight at my return, asked if I had seen any shooting. +His son Sam's wife nudged him and whispered in his ear, upon which he +apologized abruptly, explaining that he had dropped his spectacles in +the tanning vat. Sam sought to extricate his father from these +imaginary difficulties by demanding that I go coon-hunting with him on +the next night. This set Sam's wife's elbow going again very +vigorously, and the further embarrassment of the whole family was saved +by Henry Holmes swinging the whip across the backs of the mules. +</P> + +<P> +On went the state-coach of Black Log. We clattered quickly over the +last level stretch. We dragged up the last long hill, and from its +brow I looked on the roofs of Six Stars rising here and there from the +green bed of trees. I heard the sonorous rumble of the mill, and above +it a shrill and solitary crow. On the state-coach went, down the +steep, driving the mules madly before it. Their hoofs made music on +the bridge, and my journey was ended. +</P> + +<P> +Home again! Even Tip Pulsifer was dear to me then. He was between the +wheels when we stopped, and I planted a crutch on one of his bare feet +and embraced him. +</P> + +<P> +He grinned and cried, "Mighty souls!" +</P> + +<P> +That embrace, that grin and that heart-born exclamation marked the +entrance of the Pulsifer family into my life. Theretofore I had +regarded them with a suspicion born of a pile of feathers at the door +of their shanty on the ridge, for they kept no chickens. Now the six +little Pulsifers, all with the lower halves of their faces washed and +their hair soaped down, were climbing around me, and the latest comer, +that same Cevery who arrived with Piney Martin's spring-bed, was +hoisted into kissing distance by his mother, who was thinner and more +wan than ever, but still smiling. But this was home and these were +home people. My heart was open then and warm, and I took the seven +little Pulsifers to it. I took old Mrs. Bolum to it, too, for she +tumbled the clamoring infants aside and in her joy forgot the ruffles +in the sleeves of her wonderful purple silk. At her elbow hovered the +tall, spare figure of Aaron Kallaberger. Mindful of the military +nature of the occasion he appeared in his old army overcoat, in spite +of the heat. Rare honor, this! And better still, he hailed me as +"Comrade," and enfolding my hand in his long horny fingers, cried +"All's well, Mark!" +</P> + +<P> +The mill ceased its rumbling. Already the valley was rocking itself to +sleep. Out of the darkening sky rang the twanging call of a +night-hawk, and the cluck of a dozing hen sounded from the foliage +overhead. A flock of weary sheep pattered along the road, barnward +bound, heavy eyed and bleating softly. The blue gate was opened wide. +My hand was on Tim's shoulder and Tim's arm was my support. +</P> + +<P> +"All's well!" I cried. For I was hobbling home. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H3> + + +<P> +Perry Thomas still had his speech to deliver. He hovered around the +rocking-chair in which they had enthroned me, and with one hand he kept +clutching violently at his throat as though he were suppressing his +eloquence by muscular effort. His repeated coughing seemed a constant +warning that at any moment he might be vanquished in the struggle for +becoming silence. There was a longing light in his eyes and a look of +appeal whenever our glances met. My position was embarrassing. He +knew that I realized his predicament, but how could I interrupt the +kindly demonstrations of the old friends who pressed about me, to +announce that the local orator had a formal address of welcome that was +as yet unspoken? And an opportunity like this might never again occur +in Perry's life! Here were gathered not only the people of the +village, but of the valley. His words would fall not alone on the ears +of a few choice spirits of the store forum, or the scoffing pedants of +the literary society, for crowded into that little room were old men +whose years would give weight to the declaration that it was the +greatest talking they had ever heard; were young children, who in after +years, when a neglected gravestone was toppling over all that was left +of the orator, would still speak of the wonders of his eloquence; were +comely women to whom the household was the world and the household task +the life's work, but who could now for the moment lift their bent forms +and have their dulled eyes turned to higher and better things. +Moreover, there were in that room a score of deep eyes that could not +but quicken at the sight of a slender, manly figure, clad in scholastic +black, of a thin, earnest face, with beetled brows and a classic +forehead from which swept waves of black hair. Little wonder Perry was +restless under restraint! Little wonder he grew more melancholy and +coughed louder and louder, as the light without faded away, and the +faces within were dimmed in the shadow! +</P> + +<P> +From the kitchen came the clatter of dishes and pans and a babel of +women's voices, the shrill commands of old Mrs. Bolum rising above +them. The feast was preparing. Its hour was at hand. Apollo never +was a match for Bacchus, and Perry Thomas could not command attention +once Mrs. Bolum appeared on the scene. He realized this. Her cries +came as an inspiration to action. In the twilight I lost him, but the +lamp-light disclosed him standing over Henry Holmes, who had been +driven into a corner and was held prisoner there by a threatening +finger. There was a whispered parley that ended only when the old man +surrendered and, stepping to the centre of the room, rapped long and +loud on the floor with his cane. +</P> + +<P> +Henry is always blunt. He has a way of getting right at the heart of +things with everyone except Bolum. For Isaac, he regards +circumlocution as necessary, taking the ground that with him the +quantity and not the quality of the words counts. So when he had +silenced the company, and with a sweep of his cane had driven them into +close order about the walls, he said: "Mr. Thomas is anxious to make an +address." +</P> + +<P> +At this moment Mr. Thomas was about to step into the zone of fire of a +hundred eyes. There was a very audible titter in the corner where +three thoughtless young girls had squeezed themselves into one +rocking-chair. The orator heard it and brought his heels together with +a click. +</P> + +<P> +"Mind what I told you, Henery," he whispered very loud, glaring at Mr. +Holmes. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," Henry returned in a casual tone. +</P> + +<P> +He thumped the floor again, and when the tittering had subsided, and +only the snuffling of Cevery Pulsifer broke the silence, he said: "In +jestice to Mr. Thomas, I am requested to explain that the address was +originally intended to be got off at the railroad. It was forgot by +accident, and him not havin' time to change it, he asks us to make +believe we are standin' alongside of the track at Pleasantville just as +the train comes in." +</P> + +<P> +Isaac Bolum had fixed himself comfortably on two legs of his chair, +with the projecting soles of his boots caught behind the rung. Feet +and chair-legs came to the floor with a crash, and half rising from the +seat, one hand extended in appeal, the other at his right ear, forming +a trumpet, he shouted: "Mr. Chairman! Mr. Chairman!" +</P> + +<P> +"This ain't a liter'ry meetin', Mr. Bolum. The floor is Mr. Thomas's, +I believe," said Henry with dignity. +</P> + +<P> +"But I didn't catch the name of the station you said we was to imagine." +</P> + +<P> +"I said Pleasantville," cried Henry angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"I apologize," returned Isaac. "I thought you said Meadowville, and +never havin' been there, I didn't see how I could imagine the station." +</P> + +<P> +"It seems to me, Isaac Bolum," retorted Henry with dignified asperity, +"that with your imagination you could conjure up a whole railroad +system, includin' the freight-yard. But Mr. Thomas has the floor." +</P> + +<P> +"See here, Henery Holmes," cried Isaac, "it's all right for us old +folks, but there's the children. How can they imagine Pleasantville +station when some of 'em ain't yet seen a train?" +</P> + +<P> +This routed even Henry Holmes. At the store he would never have given +in, but he was not accustomed to hearing so loud a murmur of approval +greet the opposition. He realized that he had been placed in a false +position by the importunities of Mr. Thomas, and to him he now left the +brunt of the trouble by stepping out of the illumined circle and losing +himself in the company. +</P> + +<P> +The fire-swept zone had no terrors for Perry. With one hand thrust +between the first and second buttons of his coat, and the other raised +in that gesture with which the orator stills the sea of discontent, he +stepped forward, and turning slowly about, brought his eyes to bear on +the contumacious Bolum. He indicated the target. Every optic gun in +the room was levelled at it. The upraised hand, the potent silence, +the solemn gaze of a hundred eyes was too much for the old man to bear. +Slowly he swung back on two legs of his chair, caught the rungs again +with the projecting soles, turned his eyes to the ceiling, closed them, +and set himself to imagining the station at Pleasantville. The rout +was complete. +</P> + +<P> +Perry wheeled and faced me. The hand was lowered slowly; four fingers +disappeared and one long one, one quivering one, remained, a whip with +which to chastise the prisoner at the bar. +</P> + +<P> +"Mark Hope," he began, in a deep, rich, resonant voice, "we welcome you +home. We have come down from the valley, fourteen mile through the +blazin' noonday sun, fourteen mile over wind-swept roads, that you, +when agin you step on the soil of our beloved county, may step into +lovin' hands, outstretched to meet you and bid you welcome. Welcome +home—thrice welcome—agin I say, welcome!" +</P> + +<A NAME="img-020"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-020.jpg" ALT=""Welcome home—thrice welcome!"" BORDER="2" WIDTH="328" HEIGHT="296"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "Welcome home—thrice welcome!"] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Both of the orator's hands swung upward and outward, and he looked +intently at the ceiling. He seemed prepared to catch me as I leaped +from a second-story window. The pause as he stood there braced to +receive the body of the returning soldier as it hurtled at him, gave +Isaac Bolum an opportunity to be magnanimous. He clapped his hands and +cheered. In an instant his shrill cry was drowned in a burst of +applause full of spirit and heart, closing with a flourish of wails +from Cevery Pulsifer and the latest of the Kallabergers. Perry's arms +fell gracefully to his side and he inclined his head and half closed +his eyes in acknowledgment. Then turning to Isaac, measuring every +word, in a voice clear and cutting, his long forefinger shaking, he +cried: "From the bloody battlefields of Cuby, from her tropic camps +where you suffered and bled, you come home to us to-day. You have +fought in the cause of liberty. To your country you have give a +limb—you——" +</P> + +<P> +Poor Bolum! Awakened from the gentle doze into which he had fallen the +instant Cevery Pulsifer relieved him of the duty of leading the +applause, he brought his chair down on all four legs, and slapped both +knees violently. Satisfied that they were still there, he looked up at +the orator. +</P> + +<P> +"You have give a limb," repeated Perry, emphasizing the announcement by +shaking his finger at the old man. +</P> + +<P> +Isaac's mouth was half open for a protest, when he remembered, and +leaning over seized the toe of each boot in a hand and wriggled his +feet. When we saw his face again he was smiling gently, and swinging +back, he nestled his head against the wall and closed his eyes once +more. +</P> + +<P> +"You would have give your life," cried Perry. +</P> + +<P> +But the only sign old Bolum made was to twirl the thumbs of his clasped +hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Six months ago, six short, stirrin' months ago you left us, just a +plain man, at your country's call." Perry was thundering his rolling +periods at us. "To-day, a moment since, standin' here by the track, we +heard the rumblin' of the train and the engyne's whistle, and we says a +he-ro comes—a he-ro in blue!" +</P> + +<P> +Had Perry looked my way, he might have noticed that I was clad in +khaki, but he was addressing Henry Holmes, whose worthy head was +nodding in continual acquiescence. The old man stood, with eyes +downcast and hands clasped before him, a picture of humility. The +orator, carried away by his own eloquence, seemed to forget its real +purpose, and in a moment, sitting unnoticed in my chair with Tim at my +side, I became a minor figure, while half a hundred were gathered there +to do honor to Henry Holmes. Once I even forgot and started to applaud +when Perry raised his hand over the gray head as though in blessing and +said solemnly: "He-ro in blue—agin we bid you welcome!" +</P> + +<P> +A little laugh behind me recalled me to my real place, and with a +burning face I turned. +</P> + +<P> +I have in my mind a thousand pictures of one woman. But of them all +the one I love most, the one on which I dwell most as I sit of an +evening with my pipe and my unopened book, is that which I first saw +when I sought the chit who noticed my ill-timed applause and laughed at +me. I found her. I saw that she laughed with me and for me, and I +laughed too. We laughed together. An instant, and her face became +grave. +</P> + +<P> +The orator, now swelling into his peroration, was forgotten. The +people of the valley—Tim—even Tim—all of them were forgotten. I had +found the woman of my firelight, the woman of my cloudland, the woman +of my sunset country down in the mountains to the west. She, had +always been a vague, undefined creature to me—just a woman, and so +elusive as never to get within the grasp of my mind's eye; just a woman +whom I had endowed with every grace; whose kindly spirit shone through +eyes, now brown, now blue, now black, according to my latest whim; who +ofttimes worn, or perhaps feigning weariness, rested on my shoulder a +little head, crowned with a glory of hair sometimes black, and +sometimes golden or auburn, and not infrequently red, a dashing, daring +red. Sometimes she was slender and elf-like, a chic and clinging +creature. Again she was tall and stately, like the women of the +romances. Again she was buxom and blooming, one whose hand you would +take instead of offering an arm. She had been an elusive, +ever-changing creature, but now that I had looked into those grave, +gray eyes, I fixed the form of my picture, and fixed its colors and +fired them in to last for all my time. +</P> + +<P> +Now she is just the woman that every woman ought to be. Her hair is +soft brown and sweeps back from a low white forehead. She has tried to +make it straight and simple, as every woman should, but the angels seem +to have curled it here and mussed it there, so that all her care cannot +hide its wanton waves. Her face is full of life and health, so open, +so candid, that there you read her heart, and you know that it is as +good as she is fair. +</P> + +<P> +She stood before me in a sombre gown, almost ugly in its gray color and +severe lines, but to me she was a quaint figure such as might have +stepped out of the old world and the old time when men lived with a +vengeance, and godliness and ugliness went arm in arm, for Satan had +preempted the beautiful. Against her a homely garb failed. She was +beautiful in spite of her clothes and not because of them. But this is +generally true with women. This one, instead of sharing our admiration +with her gown, claimed it all for herself. Her face had no rival. +</P> + +<P> +I did not turn away. I could not. The gray eyes, once flashing with +the light of kindly humor, now softened with sympathy, now glowed with +pity. Pity! The thought of it stirred me with anger. The justice of +it made me rage. She saw in the chair a thin, broken figure, a drawn +brown face, a wreck of a man. Yesterday—a soldier. To-day—a hero. +To-morrow—a crippled veteran, and after that a pensioner drifting fast +into a garrulous dotage. She, too, was looking into the future. She +knew what I had lost. She saw what I dreaded. Her eyes told me that. +She did not know what I had gained, for she came of a silly people +whose blood quickened only to the swing of a German hymn and who were +stirred more by the groans of a penitent sinner than the martial call +of the bugle. +</P> + +<P> +So it came that I struggled to my crutches and broke rudely in on Perry +Thomas's peroration. I had gathered all my strength for a protest +against the future. The people of the valley were to know that their +kindness had cheered me, but of their pity I wanted none. I had played +a small part in a great game and in the playing was the reward. I had +come forth a bit bruised and battered, but there were other battles to +be fought in this world, where one could have the same fierce joy of +the conflict; and he was a poor soldier who lived only to be toted out +on Decoration days. I was glad to be home, but gladder still that I +had gone. That was what I told them. I looked right at the girl when +I said it, and she lifted her head and smiled. They heard how in the +early spring in the meadow by the mill-dam Tim and I had stopped our +ploughs to draw lots and he had lost. He had to stay at home, while I +went out and saw the world at its best, when it was awake to war and +strife, and the mask that hid its emotion was lifted. They heard a +very simple story and a very short one, for now that I came to recount +it all my great adventure dwindled to a few dreary facts. But as best +I knew I told them of the routine of the camp and of the endless drills +in the long spring days down there at Tampa before the army took to +sea. I spoke of the sea and the strange things we saw there as we +steamed along—of the sharks that lolled in our wake, of the great +turtles that seemed to sun themselves on the wave-crests, of the +pelicans and the schools of flying fishes. Elmer Spiker interrupted to +inquire whether the turtles I had seen were "black-legs, red-legs, or +yaller-legs." I had not the remotest idea, and said that I could not +see how the question was relevant. He replied that it was not, except +that it would be of interest to some of those present to learn that +there were three distinct kinds of "tortles"—red-legs, black-legs, and +"yaller-legs." They were shipped to the city and all became +"tarripine." This annoyed me. Elmer is a great scholar, and it was +evident that he was simply airing his wisdom, and rather than give him +a second opportunity I tried to hurry to land; but Isaac Bolum awoke +and wanted to know if he had been dreaming. +</P> + +<P> +"I thot I heard some one speakin' of flyin' fishes," he said. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-027"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-027.jpg" ALT="Tim and I had stopped our ploughs to draw lots and he had lost." BORDER="2" WIDTH="352" HEIGHT="555"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Tim and I had stopped our ploughs to draw lots and he had lost.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +It was reckless in me to mention these sea wonders, for now in defence +of my reputation for truthfulness, I had to prove their existence. The +fabric of my story seemed to hang on them. Elmer Spiker declared that +he had heard his grandfather tell of a flying sucker that inhabited the +deep hole below the bridge when he was a boy, but this was the same +grandfather who had strung six squirrels and a pigeon on one bullet in +the woods above the mill in his early manhood. There Elmer winked. +Isaac Bolum allowed that they might be trout that had trained +themselves in the use of wings, but he did not believe that any +ordinary fish such as a chub or a pike or a sunny would care to leave +its natural element to take up with the birds. Perry Thomas began to +cough. That cough is always like a snake's warning rattle. Before he +had time to strike, I blocked the discussion by promising that if the +company suspended judgment I would in the near future prove the +accuracy of my statements on flying fishes by the encyclopaedia. This +promise met with general approval, so I hurried over the sea to the dry +land where I knew the ways better and was less likely to arouse higher +criticism. I told them of the stirring times in Cuba, till the day +came when we stormed the hill, and they had to carry me back to the +sea. I told them how lucky I was to get to the sea at all, for often I +had closed my eyes, worn out by the pain and the struggle for life, +little caring whether ever again I opened them to the light. Then +strength came, and hope, and I turned my face to the North, toward the +valley and home. It was hard to come back on crutches, but it was +better than not to come at all. It was best, to have gone away, else I +had never known the joy of the return, and I was pretty sure to stay, +now that I was home, but if they fancied me dozing away my life at the +store stove they were mistaken; not that I scorned the learned +discussion there, but the frosts were coming soon to stir up sluggish +blood, and when the guns were barking in the woods, and the hounds were +baying along the ridges, I would be with them. +</P> + +<P> +I looked right at the girl when I said it. I was boasting. She knew +it. She must see, too, what a woful figure I should make with +strong-limbed fellows like Tim there, and strong-limbed hounds like old +Captain, who was lying at my side. But somehow she liked my vaunting +speech. I knew it when our eyes met. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H3> + + +<P> +The gate latch clicked. From the road Henry Holmes called a last +good-night, and Tim and I were alone. We sat in silence, watching +through the window the old man's lantern as he swung away toward home. +Then the light disappeared and without all was black. The village was +asleep. +</P> + +<P> +By the stove lay my hound, Captain, snoring gently. He had tried to +keep awake, poor beast! For a time he had even struggled to hold one +eye open and on his master, but at last, overcome by weariness, his +head snuggled farther and farther down into his fore paws, and the +tired tail ceased its rhythmic beating on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +What is home without a dog! Captain is happy. He smiles gently as he +sleeps, and it seems that in that strange dog-dreamland he and I are +racing over the ridges again, through the nipping winds, on the trail +of a fox or a rabbit. His master is home. He has wandered far to +other hunting grounds, but now that the tang is in the air that +foretells the frost and snow, he has come again to the dog that never +misses a trail, the dog that never fails him. +</P> + +<P> +The hound raised his head and half opened one eye. He was sure that I +was really there, and the gleam of white teeth showed a broadening +dog-smile. And once more we were away on the dreamland trail—Captain +and I. +</P> + +<P> +"He's been counting the days till you got home, Mark," said Tim, +holding a burning match over my pipe. "It was a bit lonely here, while +you were gone, so Captain and I used to discuss your doings a good deal +after the rest of the place had gone to bed. And as for young Colonel, +why he's heard so much of you from Captain there, I'm afraid he'll +swallow you when he gets at you in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +Young Colonel was the puppy the returning soldier had never seen. He +had come long after I had gone away, and as yet I knew him only by his +voice, for I had heard his dismal wails down in the barn. In the +excitement of the evening I had forgotten him, but now I raised a +warning finger and listened, thinking that I might catch the appealing +cry. And is there any cry more appealing than that of a lonely puppy? +There was not a sound outside, and I turned to Tim. +</P> + +<P> +My brother lighted his pipe, and leaned back in his chair, and looked +at me. I looked at him very, very hard. Then we both began to blow +clouds of smoke in each other's faces. Hardly a word had Tim and I +passed since that day in the field when I drew the long twig that sent +me away and left him behind to keep our home. What a blessing a pipe +is at a time like this! Tim says more by the vigor of his smoking than +Perry Thomas could express in a year's oration. So we enshrouded our +emotions in the gray cloud; but if he did not speak, I knew well what +he would be saying, and the harder I puffed the easier did he divine +what was uppermost in my mind. For we were brothers! This was the +same room that for years had been our world; this the same carpet over +which we had tumbled together at our mother's feet. There was the same +cupboard that had been our mountain; here the same chairs that formed +our ridges and our valleys. At the table by my side, by the light of +this very lamp, we sat together not so very long ago, boys, spelling +out with our father, letter by letter, word by word, the stories of the +Bible. Here we had lived our little lives; here we were to live what +was to come; and where life is as simple as it is with us we grow a bit +like the animals about us. We sit together and smoke; we purr, as it +were, and know each other's mind. Tim and I purred. Incident by +incident, year by year, we travelled down the course of our lives +again, over the rough ways, over the smooth ways, smoking and smoking, +until at last we brought up together at the present. Not a word had +either of us spoken, but at last when our reminiscent wanderings were +over and we paused on the threshold of the future, Tim spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Attractive?" he said in a tone of inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +He was looking at me with eyebrows arched, curiously, and there was a +faint suggestion of hostility in the set of his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +Poor Tim! He has seen so little of women! We have them in our valley, +of course. But he and I lived much in the great book-land beyond the +hills. We had read together of all the heroines of the romances, and +we knew their little ways and their pretty speeches as well as if we +had ourselves walked with them through a few hundred pages and lived +happily ever after. They had been the women of our world as distinct +from the women of our valley. The last we knew as kindly, honest +persons with a faculty for twisting their English and a woful ignorance +of well-turned speeches. They never said "Fair Sir" nor "Master." But +I had gone from that book-world and had seen the women of the real +world. Here I had the advantage of my brother. Into his life a single +woman had come from the real world. She was different from the women +of our valley. I had known that the moment our eyes met, and by the +way Tim smoked now, and by the tone of his terse inquiry, I knew that +he had met a woman who had said "Fair Sir" to him, and I feared for +him. It was disturbing. I felt a twinge of jealousy, but whether for +the tall, strong young fellow before me, to whom I had been all, or for +the fair-faced girl, I could not for the life of me tell. It seemed to +be a bit of both. +</P> + +<P> +"I remarked that she was attractive," said Tim aggressively, for I had +kept on smoking in silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Rather," I answered carelessly. "But who is she—a stranger here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rather," repeated Tim hotly. "Well, you are blind. I suppose you +judged her by that ugly gray gown. You thought she was some pious +Dunkard." +</P> + +<P> +"I am no enemy of piety," I retorted. "In fact, I hardly noticed her +clothes at all, except to think that their simplicity gave her a sort +of Priscilla air that was fetching." +</P> + +<P> +Tim softened. "That's it exactly," he said. "But, Mark, you should +have seen Mary Warden when she came here." +</P> + +<P> +"From where?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"From Kansas. She lived in some big town out West, and when her mother +died there was no one left to her but Luther Warden, her uncle. He +sent for her, and now she is living with him. The old man sets a great +store by her." +</P> + +<P> +Luther Warden is rich. He has accumulated a fine lot of property above +Six Stars—several good farms, a mill and a tannery; but even the +chance of inheriting all these did not seem fair compensation for being +his niece and having to live with him. He was good to a fault. He +exuded piety. Six days of the week he worked, piling up the passing +treasures of this world. One whole day he preached, striving for the +treasures in that to come. You could not lay a finger on a weak spot +in his moral armor, but Tip Pulsifer protected from the assaults of +Satan only by a shield of human skin, always seemed to me the better of +the two. Tip wore leaky boots all last winter, but when spring came he +bought Mrs. Pulsifer a sewing machine. Have you ever worn leaky boots +when the snow was banked fence high? Luther Warden's boots never leak. +They are always tight and well tallowed. His horses and his cows +waddle in their fat, and the wool of his flocks is the longest in the +valley. Luther gets up with the sun and goes to bed with it. Some in +our valley think his heavy crops come from his six days of labor, and +some from his one day of preaching. He says that the one day does it +all; but he keeps on getting out with the sun on the other six. I knew +that the poor girl from Kansas must get up with the sun, too, for her +uncle was not the man to brook any dawdling. I knew, further, that +Sunday could not be a day of rest for her, for of all his people she +would have to listen to his preaching. +</P> + +<P> +That was why I murmured in a commiserative tone, "Luther's niece—poor +girl!" +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't pity her," Tim snapped. "She knows a heap more about the +world than you or I do. She—" +</P> + +<P> +"She is not a Dunkard, then?" I interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit," Tim answered. "I don't know what she was in Kansas, but +Luther has preached so much on worldliness and the vanity of fine +clothes that it wouldn't look right for his niece to go flaunting +frills and furbelows about the valley. That plain gray gown is a +concession to the old man. He'd like her to wear a prayer-cap and a +poke bonnet, I guess, but she has a mind of her own. I think she drew +the line there." +</P> + +<P> +She had not given up so much, I thought. Perhaps in her self-denial +there was method, and her simple garb became her best. Even a +prayer-cap might frame her face the fairest; but she must know. And I +had seen that in the flash of her eye and the toss of her head that +told me that a hundred Luther Wardens, a hundred Dunkard preacher +uncles, could not abate her beauty one jot. +</P> + +<P> +"She's rich," said Tim. +</P> + +<P> +He blurted it out. As long as I had seen her and found her beautiful, +this announcement seemed uncalled for. Had she been plain of face and +figure it might have served a purpose, were my brother endeavoring to +excuse the sentimental state of mind he had disclosed to me. He knew +that the place he held in my heart was first. This had always been +true, and in our lonely innocence we had promised it should be true to +the end. There was to be a fair return. He had promised it, and now +he was learning how hard it was to keep faith. His attitude was one of +half penitence, half defiance. Had I not seen the girl, had he told me +that she was beautiful, and even rich and good, all our boyish pledges +would have been swept aside, and I should have cheered him on. But I +had seen her. She had laughed with me. Somehow we had understood each +other. And now I cared not so much what he felt for her as how she +looked on him. For once in our lives Tim and I were fencing. +</P> + +<P> +"She's pretty, Tim," said I, "and rich, you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mary has several thousand dollars," he answered. "Besides that, +she'll get all old man Warden has to leave, and that's a pretty pile." +</P> + +<P> +"Little wonder she wears that Dunkard gown," said I with the faintest +sneer. +</P> + +<P> +It angered Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"That's not fair," he cried. "She's not that kind. Luther Warden is +all she has of kin, and if it makes him any happier to see her togged +out in that gawky Dunkard gown——-" +</P> + +<P> +"Gawky?" said I. "Why, man, on a woman like that a plain dress is +simply quaint. She looks like an old Dutch picture. You must not let +her change it." +</P> + +<P> +The insinuation of his authority made Tim pound the table with his +pipe. He was striving to be angry, but I knew what that furious flush +of his face meant. He tried to conceal it by smoking again, but ended +in a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, nonsense!" he said. Then he laughed again. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me," I went on, following up my advantage, "when is she coming +here, or when are you going to move up there?" +</P> + +<P> +My brother recovered his composure. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all silly, Mark. There is no chance of a girl like that settling +down here with a clumsy fellow like me—a fellow who doesn't know +anything, who's never been anywhere, who's never seen anything. Why, +she's travelled; she's from Kansas; she's lived in big cities. This is +nothing but a lark for her. She'll go away some day, and she'll leave +us here, grubbing away on our bit of a farm and spending our savings on +powder and shot—until we get to the happy hunting grounds." +</P> + +<P> +Tim laughed mournfully. "I've been just a little foolish," he went on, +"but I couldn't help it, Mark. It doesn't amount to anything; it never +did and never will, and now that you're here and the rabbit season will +soon be in, we'll have other things to think of. But you must remember +I'm not the only man in the world who's been a bit of a fool in his +time." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said I. "May I be spared myself, but see here, Tim, how does it +feel?" +</P> + +<P> +"How does what feel?" snapped Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"To be in love the way you are," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" he exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +He had been taken back, and hesitated between anger and amusement. +When Tim hesitates he loses his temper as a sensible man should lose +it—he buries it, and his indomitable good humor wins. +</P> + +<P> +"Tip Pulsifer says it's like religion," he answered. "At first it +makes you feel all low-down like, and miserable, and you don't care. +Then you either get over it entirely or become so used to it you don't +feel it at all." +</P> + +<P> +"May I be spared!" I cried, "and may you get over it." +</P> + +<P> +But the youngster refused to commit himself. He just smiled and +smoked, and it seemed as though in his suffering he was half happy. I +smoked, too. We smoked together. The silence startled Captain, for +the clock struck, and yawning, he arose, trotted to my side, and with +one leap he brought his ponderous paws into my lap. +</P> + +<P> +You can trust your dog. He never fails you. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, old chap," I said, as I scratched his nose ever so gently, "you +at least have no one to think of but me and Tim there, eh?" +</P> + +<A NAME="img-046"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-046.jpg" ALT=""Well, old chap!"" BORDER="2" WIDTH="321" HEIGHT="358"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "Well, old chap!"] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"No," cried Captain heartily. +</P> + +<P> +That was not the exact word that he used, but he expressed it by +beating his tail against the table and giving a long howl. +</P> + +<P> +"And if Tim, there, goes dawdling after a woman, we shall stick to the +ridges, and the foxes, and the rabbits. We can't go as fast as we used +to, Captain, but we can go together, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"The same as ever and the same forever," cried Captain. +</P> + +<P> +Those were not his exact words, but I saw his answer in his eyes, for +he had climbed higher and they were close to mine. He seemed ready to +swallow me. +</P> + +<P> +"And when he brings her home, Captain," said I, "and fills the whole +house with young ones who'll pull your tail and tickle your ears and +play horse with my crutches, we shall sit outside and smoke our pipes +alone, in peace and quiet, eh, Captain?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oho!" cried Captain. "That we will, and you never need want, Mark, +for I've many a fine bone buried away against old age and rainy +weather." +</P> + +<P> +"Spoken like a man," said I, slapping the hound on the back. +</P> + +<P> +Tim had lighted a candle. Now he blew out the lamp and stood over me +in the half-light, holding out a hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Come," he said. "That's right, put your hand on my shoulder, for the +stairs are steep and will trouble you. That's the way. Come along, +Captain; to-night we'll all go up together. And when she comes—that +woman—we'll go to your house—all three of us—the same as now—eh, +Captain?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IV +</H3> + + +<P> +"I love soldiers—just love 'em," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"The sentiment is an old one with women," said I. "Were it not so, +there would be no soldiers." +</P> + +<P> +"And for that reason you went to war?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"In part, yes," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +"How I should like to see the woman!" she cried. "How proud she must +be of you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Of me?" I laughed. "The woman? Why, she doesn't exist." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why did you turn soldier?" +</P> + +<P> +"I feared that some day there might be a woman, and when that day came +I wished to be prepared. I thought that the men who fought would be +the men of the future. But I have learned a great deal. They will be +the men of the past in a few months. The memory of a battle's heroes +fades away almost with the smoke. In a little while, to receive our +just recognition we old soldiers will have to parade before the public +with a brass band, and the band will get most attention. Would you +know that Aaron Kallaberger was a hero of Gettysburg if he didn't wear +an army overcoat?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," she said. "I have heard about it so often. He has told me +a hundred times." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you have told a hundred other persons of Aaron's prowess?" +said I. +</P> + +<P> +"No-o-o," she answered. +</P> + +<P> +"And so," said I, "when Perry Thomas finished his oration last night, I +had to catch it up; and if my soldiering is to result in any material +good to me I must keep that oration moving to the end." +</P> + +<P> +"But will you?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +How I liked the way she put it! It was flattering—subtly so. She +seemed to imply that I was a modest soldier, and if there is a way to +flatter a man it is to call him modest. Modesty is one of the best of +policies. To call a man honest is no more than to call him healthy or +handsome. These are attributes of nearly everyone at some time in his +life. But to do a great deed or a good deed, and to rejoice that it +has been done and the world is better for it, and not because you did +it and the world knows it, that is different. So often our modesty +consists in using as much effort to walk with hanging head and sloping +shoulders as we should need for a majestic strut. +</P> + +<P> +She called me modest. Yet there I sat in my old khaki uniform. It was +ragged and dirty, and I was proud of it. It was a bit thin for a +chilly autumn day, but in spite of Tim's expostulation I had worn it, +refusing his offers of a warmer garb. I was clinging to my glory. +While I had on that old uniform, I was a soldier. When I laid it +aside, I should become as Aaron Kallaberger and Arnold Arker. A year +hence people would ask me if I had been a railroad man in my time. +</P> + +<P> +She called me modest. That very morning Tim told me she was coming. +She had made some jellies, so she said, for the soldier of the valley. +They were her offering to the valley's idol. She thought the idol +would consume them, for bachelor cooking was never intended for +bachelor invalids. Tim had mentioned this casually. I suspected that +he believed that the visit to me was simply a pretence and that she +knew he was to be working in the field by the house. But I took no +chances. In the seclusion of my room I brushed every speck off the +uniform and made sure that every inch of it fitted snugly and without +an unnecessary wrinkle. Then when my hair had been parted and smoothed +down, I crowned myself with my campaign hat at the dashingest possible +tilt. Thus arrayed I fixed myself on the porch, to be smoking my pipe +in a careless, indifferent way when she came. An egotist, you say—a +vain man. No—just a man. For who when She comes would not look his +best? We prate a lot about the fair sex and its sweet vanities. Yet +it takes us less time to do our hair simply because it is shorter. +</P> + +<P> +When Mary comes! The gate latch clicked and I whistled the +sprightliest air I knew. Down in the field Tim appeared from the maze +of corn-stalks and looked my way beneath a shading hand. There were +foot-falls on the porch. Had they been light I should have kept on +whistling in that careless way; but now I looked up, startled. Before +me stood not Mary, but Josiah Nummler. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-053"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-053.jpg" ALT="Josia Nummler." BORDER="2" WIDTH="315" HEIGHT="407"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Josia Nummler.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +It was kind of Josiah to come, for he is an old man and lives a full +mile above the village, half way up the ridge-side. He is very fat, +too, from much meditation, and to aid his thin legs in moving his bulky +body he carries a very long stick, which he uses like a paddle to +propel him; so when you see him in the distance he seems to be standing +in a canoe, sweeping it along. Really he is only navigating the road. +He had a clothes-prop with him that day, and pausing at the end of the +porch, he leaned on it and gasped. I ought to have been pleased to see +Josiah. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Mark," he said, "I am glad you're home. Mighty! but you look +improved." +</P> + +<P> +He gasped again and smiled through his bushy beard. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said I, icily, waving him toward a chair. +</P> + +<P> +Josiah sat down and smiled again. +</P> + +<P> +"It just does me good to see you," he said, having completely recovered +his power of speech. "I should have come down last night, Mark. I +'pologize for not doin' it, but it's mighty troublesome gittin' 'round +in the dark. The last time I tried it, I caught the end of my stick +between two rocks and it broke. There I was, left settin' on the Red +Hill with no way of gittin' home. I was in for comin' down here to +receive you—really I was—but my missus says she ain't a-goin' to have +me rovin' 'round the country that 'ay agin. 'Gimme an extry oar,' I +says. And she says: 'Does you 'spose I'll let you run 'round lookin' +like a load of wood?' And I says——" +</P> + +<P> +The gate latch clicked. Again Tim appeared from the maze of corn and +stood shading his eyes and gazing toward the house. Now the footfalls +were light. And Mary came! But how could I look careless and dashing, +with Josiah Nummler in the chair I had fixed so close to mine? Rising, +I bowed as awkwardly as possible. I insisted on her taking my own +rocker, while I fixed myself on the floor with a pillar for a +back-rest. Not a word did the girl say, but she sat there clutching +the little basket she held in her lap. +</P> + +<P> +"Eggs?" inquired Josiah. +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head, but did not enlighten him. +</P> + +<P> +"I should judge your hens ain't layin' well, figurin' on the size of +the basket," said the old man, ignoring her denial. "There's a +peculiarity about the hens in this walley—it's somethin' I've noticed +ever since I was a boy. I've spoke to my missus about it and she has +noticed the same thing since she was a girl—so it must be a +peculiarity. The hens in this walley allus lays most when the price of +eggs is lowest." +</P> + +<P> +This was a serious problem. It is not usual for Josiah to be serious, +either, for he is generally out of breath or laughing. Now he was +wagging his head solemnly, pulling his beard, and over and over +repeating, "But hens is contrary—hens is contrary." +</P> + +<P> +Mary contrived to drop the basket to her side, out of the old man's +sight. +</P> + +<P> +"Speakin' of hens," he went on. "My missus was sayin' just yesterday +how as——" +</P> + +<P> +Tim was shouting. He was calling something to me. I could not make +out what it was, for the wind-was rustling the corn-shocks, but I arose +and feigned to listen. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Tim," said I. "He's calling to you, Josiah. It's something +about your red heifer." +</P> + +<P> +"Red heifer—I haven't no red heifer," returned the old man. +</P> + +<P> +"Did I say heifer? I should have said hog—excuse me," said I, blandly. +</P> + +<P> +"But I have killed all my hogs," Josiah replied, undisturbed. +</P> + +<P> +Tim shouted again, making a trumpet of his hands. To this day I don't +know what he was calling to us, but when this second message reached +Josiah's ears, it concerned some cider we had, that Tim was anxious to +know if he would care for. At the suggestion Josiah's face became very +earnest, and a minute later he was hurrying down the field to the spot +where Tim's hat and Tip Pulsifer's shaggy hair showed above the wreck +of a corn-shock. +</P> + +<P> +"How could you hear what Tim was saying?" Mary asked. +</P> + +<P> +It was almost the first word she had spoken to me, and I was in my +chair again, and she was where I had planned so cunningly to have her. +</P> + +<P> +"I know my brother's voice," I answered gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't make out a word," said she, "but it isn't like him to let +an old man go tottering over fields to see him. He would have come up +here." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess he would." There was a twinkle in her eyes and I knew it was +useless to dissemble. "Tim and I are different. I never hesitate to +use strategy to get my chair, even at the expense of a feeble old man." +</P> + +<P> +"How gallant you are," she said with a touch of scorn. +</P> + +<P> +"You must not scold," I cried. "Remember I had reason, after all. You +did not come to see Josiah Nummler." +</P> + +<P> +She was taken by surprise. It was brutal of me. But somehow the old +reckless spirit had come back. I was speaking as a soldier should to a +fair woman, bold and free. That's what a woman likes. She hates a man +who stutters love. And while I did not own to myself the least passion +for the girl, I had seen just enough of her on the evening before and I +had smoked just enough over her that morning to be in a sentimental +turn of mind that was amusing. And I gained my point. She turned her +head so as almost to hide her face from me, and I heard a gentle laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"All's fair in love and war," I said, "and were Josiah twice as old, I +should be justified in using those means to this end." +</P> + +<P> +Then I rocked. There is something so sociable about rocking. And I +smoked. There is something so sociable about smoking. For a moment +the girl sat quietly, screening her face from me. Then she began +rocking too, and I caught a sidelong glance of her eye, and the color +mounted to her cheeks, and we laughed together. +</P> + +<P> +So it came that she suddenly stopped her rocking, and dropping the +little basket at my feet, exclaimed: "I love soldiers—just love them!" +</P> + +<P> +Then I told her that I must keep Perry Thomas's oration going to the +end, and she leaned toward me, her hands clasped, her eyes fixed on +mine and asked: "But will you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can make no promises," I answered. "They say our bodies change +entirely every seven years. Mark Hope, age fifty, will be a different +man from Mark Hope, age twenty-three. He may have nothing to boast +about himself, and his distorted mind may magnify the deeds of the +younger man. Now the younger man refuses to commit himself. He will +not be in any way responsible for his successors." +</P> + +<P> +"How wise you are!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Wise?" I exclaimed, searching her face for a sign of mockery. But +there was none. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean you talk so differently from the others in the valley. Either +they talk of crops or weather, or they sit in silence and just look +wise. I suppose you have travelled?" +</P> + +<P> +"As compared to most folks in Black Log I am a regular Gulliver," I +answered. "My father was a much-travelled man. He was an Englishman +and came to the valley by chance and settled here, and to his dying day +he was a puzzle to the people. That an Englishman should come to Six +Stars was a phenomenon. That Isaac Bolum and Henry Holmes should be +born here was no mere chance—it was a law of nature." +</P> + +<P> +"And this English father?" +</P> + +<P> +"He married, and then Tim and I came to Black Log." +</P> + +<P> +"Like Isaac Bolum and Henry Holmes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly; and we should have grown like them, but our father was a +bookish man, and with him we travelled; we went with Dickens and +Thackeray and those fellows, and as we came to different places in the +books, he told us all about them. He'd seen them all, so we got to +know his country pretty well. Once he took us to Harrisburg, and by +multiplying everything we saw there, Tim and I were able to picture all +the great cities of the world—for instance, London is five hundred +times Harrisburg." +</P> + +<P> +"But why didn't you go to see the places yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why doesn't everybody in Black Log go to Florida in winter or take the +waters at Carlsbad? We did plan a great trip—father and mother and +Tim and I—we were going to England together when the farm showed a +surplus. We never saw that surplus. I went to Philadelphia once. +It's a grand place, but I had just enough of money to keep me there two +days and bring me home. Then the war came. And now Tim thinks I've +been around the world. He's jealous, for he has never been past +Harrisburg; but I've really gone around a little circle. I've seen +just enough of flying fishes to hanker after Mandalay, just enough of +Spaniards to long for a sight of Spain. But they've shipped me home +and here I am anchored. Here I shall stay until that surplus +materializes; and you know in our country we have neither coal nor oil +nor iron." +</P> + +<P> +"But they tell me that you are to teach the school," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"For which I am grateful," I answered. "Twenty dollars a month is the +salary, and school keeps for six months, so I shall earn the large sum +of $120 a year." +</P> + +<P> +"But your pension?" +</P> + +<P> +"With my pension I shall be a nabob in Six Stars. Anywhere else I +should cut a very poor figure. But after all, this is the best place, +for is there any place where the skies are bluer; is there any place +where the grass is greener; is there any place where the storms are +wilder than over our mountains?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes I would say in Kansas," the girl answered. "Here the world +seems to end at the top of the mountain. It is hard to picture +anything beyond that. Out there you raise yourself on tiptoe, and you +see the world rolling away for miles and miles, and it seems to have no +ending." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you will not be able to endure your imprisonment. Some day +you will go back to Kansas." +</P> + +<P> +"Some day—perhaps," she laughed. "But now I am a true Black Logger. +Look at my gown." +</P> + +<P> +It was the gray Dunkard dress—the concession to her uncle's beliefs on +worldliness. It was the first time I had noticed it. +</P> + +<P> +"That is not the garb of Black Log," I said. "It was designed long ago +in Germany, after patterns from Heaven." +</P> + +<P> +"And designed by men," said Mary, laughing; "forced by them on a sex +which wears ribbons as naturally as a bird does feathers." +</P> + +<P> +"In other words, when you came to live with your pious uncle, he picked +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly," she said; "but I submitted humbly. I came here, as I +supposed, a fairly good Christian, with an average amount of piety and +an average number of faults. My worldliness shocked my uncle, and +being a peaceful person, I let him pick me. But I rebelled at the +bonnet—spare me from one of those coal-scuttles—I'll go to the stake +first." +</P> + +<P> +In her defiance she swung her own straw hat wildly around on the +string. Pausing, she smoothed out the gray gown and eyed it critically. +</P> + +<P> +"Was such a thing ever intended for a woman to wear!" she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"For most women, surely not," said I. "Few could carry that handicap +and win. But after all, your uncle means it kindly. He acts from +interest in your soul's welfare." +</P> + +<P> +Mary's face became serious. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said, "he has paid me the highest compliment a man can pay +to a woman—he wants to meet me in Heaven." +</P> + +<P> +How could I blame Luther Warden? +</P> + +<P> +I had forgotten my uniform and my glory, my hair and my hat, and was +leaning forward with my eyes on the girl. And she was leaning toward +me and our heads were very close. The rebellious brown hair was almost +in the shade of my own dashing hat-brim. +</P> + +<P> +Then I said to myself in answer to the poet, "Here's the cheek that +doth not fade, too much gazed at." For its color was ever changing. +And again I said to myself and to the poet, when my glance had met +hers, and the color was mounting higher: "Here's the maid whose lip +mature is ever new; here's the eye that doth not weary." And now +aloud, forgetfully, leaning back in my chair and gazing at her from +afar off—"Here's the face one would meet in every place." +</P> + +<P> +Mary's chair flew back, and it was for her to gaze at me from afar off. +</P> + +<P> +"What were you saying?" she demanded in a voice not "so very soft." +</P> + +<P> +"Was I saying anything?" I answered, feigning surprise. "I thought I +was only thinking. But you were speaking of Luther Warden." +</P> + +<P> +"Was I?" she said, more quietly, but in an absent tone. +</P> + +<P> +"You said he had paid you a great compliment, but do you know——" +</P> + +<P> +I paused, being a bit nervous, and flushed, for she was looking right +at me. Not till she turned away did I finish. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know," I went on, "last night when I saw you, I thought we must +have met before, and I thought if I had met you anywhere before, it +must have been in Heaven." +</P> + +<P> +I had expected that at a time like this Josiah Nummler would appear. +In that I was disappointed. In his place, with a bark and a bound, +came a lithe setter, a perfect stranger to me, and Mary seized the long +head in her hands and cried: "Why, Flash—good Flash." +</P> + +<P> +She completely ignored my last remark, and patted the dog and talked to +him. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't he a beauty?" she cried. "He is Mr. Weston's." +</P> + +<P> +"Whose?" I asked, concealing my irritation. "Mr. Weston—and who is +Mr. Weston?" +</P> + +<P> +Mary held up a warning finger. There were footfalls on the gravel walk +around the house. +</P> + +<P> +"Sh," she whispered, "here he comes—no one knows who he is." +</P> + +<P> +To this day Robert Weston's age is a mystery to me; I might venture to +guess that it is between thirty and fifty. Past thirty all men begin +to dry up or fatten, and he was certainly a lean person. His face was +hidden beneath a beard of bristling, bushy red, and he had a sharp hook +nose and small, bright eyes. From his appearance you could not tell +whether he was a good man or a bad one, wise or stupid, kind-hearted or +a brute. He seemed of a neutral tone. His clothes marked him as a man +of the city, for we do not wear shooting jackets, and breeches and +leather leggings in our valley. In the way he wore them there was +something that spoke the man of the world, for in such a costume we of +Black Log should feel dressed up and ill at ease; but his clothes +seemed a part of him. They looked perfectly comfortable and he was +unconscious of them. This is where the city men have an advantage over +us country-breds. I can carry off my old clothes without being +awkward. I could enter a fine drawing-room in the patched blouse I +wear a-hunting with more ease than in that solemn-looking frock-coat I +bought at the county town five years ago. In that garment I feel that +"I am." No one could ever convince me that I am a mere thought, a +dream, a shadow. Every pull in the shoulders, every hitch in the back, +every kink in the sleeves makes me a profound materialist. But I don't +suppose Weston would bother spreading the tails out when he sat down. +I doubt if he would know he had it on. He is so easy in his ways. I +saw that as he came swinging around the house, and I envied him for it. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I am in luck!" he cried cheerfully. "Here I came to see the +valley's soldier and I find him holding the valley's flower." +</P> + +<P> +This to me was rather an astounding thing to say, and if he intended to +disable me in the first skirmish he succeeded admirably, for my only +answer was a laugh; and the more I laughed the more foolish and +slow-witted I felt. I wanted to run to Mary's aid, but I did not know +how, and while I was rummaging my brain for some way to meet him, she +was answering him valiantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Almost, but not quite," she said. "But he has earned the right to +hold the valley's flower entirely—whoever she may he. It's a pity, +Mr. Weston, you have not been doing so, too, instead of loafing around +the valley all summer long." +</P> + +<P> +She did not speak sharply to him, and that angered me. She was smiling +as she spoke, and he did not seem to mind it at all. +</P> + +<P> +"I came to see the veteran," he said, "and not to be scolded." +</P> + +<P> +"You may have my chair then." Mary was rising. "I shall leave you to +the veteran—if he does not object." +</P> + +<P> +She was moving away. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I shall have to go with you," said the stranger calmly, "if the +veteran doesn't object. He knows a woman should not go unattended +around the valley. He'd rather see me doing my duty than having a +sociable pipe with him and hearing about the war. How about it, Hope?" +</P> + +<P> +He did not stop to hear my answer. Had he waited a moment instead of +striding after the girl, with his dog at his heels, he might have seen +my reply. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-068"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-068.jpg" ALT="He did not stop to hear my answer." BORDER="2" WIDTH="323" HEIGHT="391"> +<H4> +[Illustration: He did not stop to hear my answer.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +I raised my pipe above my head and hurled it against the fence, where +it crashed into a score of pieces. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +V +</H3> + + +<P> +"Who is Robert Weston?" I asked of Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"If you can answer that question Theophilus Jones will give you a +cigar," replied my brother. "He has tried to find out; he has +cross-questioned every man, woman, and child that comes to his store, +and he admits that he is beaten." +</P> + +<P> +"When Theop can't find out, the mystery is impenetrable." I recalled +our suave storekeeper and his gentle way of drawing from his customers +their life secrets as he leaned blandly over the counter with his sole +thought apparently to do their commands. Theophilus had known that I +was going to enlist long before I had made up my own mind. He had told +Tim that I was coming home before he had handed him the postal card on +which I had scrawled a few lines announcing my return. So when I heard +that Weston was still a puzzle to him I knew that Six Stars had a +mystery. For Six Stars to have a mystery is unusual. Occasionally we +are troubled with ghosts and such supernatural demonstrations, which +cause us to keep at home at night, but we soon forget these things if +we do not solve them. But for our village to number among its people a +man whose whole history and whose family history was not known was +unheard of. For such a man to be here six weeks and not enlighten us +was hardly to be dreamed of. Robert Weston had dared it. Even Tim +regarded the matter as serious. +</P> + +<P> +"It is suspicious," he said, shaking his head gravely. +</P> + +<P> +He was cleaning up the supper dishes at the end of the table opposite +me. By virtue of my recent return I had not fallen altogether into our +household ways as yet, and sat smoking and watching him. +</P> + +<P> +"It's mighty odd," he went on. "At noon one day, about six weeks ago, +Weston rode up to the tavern on a bicycle and told Elmer Spiker he was +going to stay to dinner. He loafed about all that afternoon, and +stayed that day and the next, and ever since. First there came a trunk +for him, and then a dog. You see him about all the time, for when he +isn't walking, he's loafing around the tavern, or is over at the store, +arguing with Henry Holmes or Isaac Bolum. Yet all we know about him is +that he's undecided how long he'll stay and that he has lived in New +York." +</P> + +<P> +"Has no one asked him point-blank what he is doing here?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. Isaac Bolum declares every day that he is going to, but when the +time comes he breaks down. Every other means of finding out has been +taken." +</P> + +<P> +"Josiah Nummler told me to-day he believed Weston was a detective." +</P> + +<P> +"That was Elmer Spiker's theory. But, as Theop says, who is he +detecting?" +</P> + +<P> +Theophilus settled that theory conclusively, in my mind, at least, for +I knew every man, woman, and child in the valley; and taking a mental +census, I could find no one who seemed to require watching by a +hawkshaw. +</P> + +<P> +"Perry Thomas guessed he was an embezzler," said Tim, putting the last +dish in the cupboard and sitting down to his pipe. "Perry says Weston +is the best-learned man he ever met, and that embezzlers are naturally +educated or they would not be in places where they could embezzle." +</P> + +<P> +"A truly Perryan argument," said I; "and after all, a reasonable one, +for no one would think of looking here for a fugitive." +</P> + +<P> +"That's just what Perry says," rejoined Tim. "But Theop has read every +line in the papers for weeks, and he swears that no embezzlers are +missing now." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps his crime is still concealed," I ventured. +</P> + +<P> +"That was just what Isaac Bolum thought," Tim answered. "But Henry +Holmes says no missing criminal is likely to have a setter dog shipped +to him. He says such a man might send for his clothes, but he would +draw the line on dogs." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps he has deserted his wife," I said, seeing at last a possible +solution of the mystery. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what Arnold Arker suggested just a few days ago," returned Tim; +"but Tip Pulsifer allowed that no fellow would have to come so far to +desert his wife." +</P> + +<P> +"Tip ought to know," said I, "for he deserts his once a year, +regularly." +</P> + +<P> +"He always comes back the next day," retorted Tim stoutly. +</P> + +<P> +My brother has always been Tip's champion in his matrimonial +disagreements, and whenever Pulsifer flees across the mountain, +swearing terrible oaths that he will never return, Tim goes straight to +the clearing on the ridge and talks long and seriously to the deserted +wife about her duty. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-075"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-075.jpg" ALT="Swearing terrible oaths that he will never return." BORDER="2" WIDTH="356" HEIGHT="574"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Swearing terrible oaths that he will never return.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +But there was reason in Tip's contention regarding Weston. Indeed, +from Tim's account of events, I could see that the store had very +thoroughly threshed out the whole case and that the problem was not one +that could be solved by abstract reasoning. There was only one person +to solve it, and that was Robert Weston himself. +</P> + +<P> +I knew enough of the world to know that it was not an unheard-of thing +for a man to settle for a time in an out-of-the-way village. I knew +enough of men to understand that he might consider it nobody's business +why he cared to live among us. I had enough sense of humor to see that +he might find amusement in enveloping himself in mystery and sparring +with the sly sages of the store and tavern. By right I should have +stood by and watched the little game; I should have encouraged Isaac +Bolum and Henry Holmes to apply the interrogating probe; I should have +warned Weston of the plotting at the store to lay bare the secret of +his life; I should have brought the contending parties together and +enjoyed the duello. Instead, I had to admit to myself a curiosity as +to the stranger's identity that equalled, if it did not surpass, that +of Theophilus Jones. His was curiosity pure and simple; mine was +something more. Weston had come quietly into my own castle, had taken +complete possession of it for a moment, and then calmly walked away +with the fairest thing it held—and all so quietly and with an air that +in a thousand years of practice, I or none other in the valley could +have simulated. The picture was still sharp in my mind as I sat there +smoking and drawing Tim out; for when I had vented my anger on my pipe +that morning I had hurried to the gate to watch my departing visitors +as they swung down the village street. Weston, lanky and erect, moved +with a masterful stride, not unlike the lean and keen-witted setter +that flashed to and fro over the road before him. At his side was the +girl, a slender body in drab, tossing her hat gayly about at the end of +its long string. They passed the store and the mill, and at the bend +were lost to my view. They seemed to find themselves such good +company! Even Tim, so fine and big, had in this homely, lanky man a +rival well worth watching. +</P> + +<P> +And who was the quiet, lanky man? Over and over I asked myself the +question, and when I touched its every phase I found that Henry Holmes +or Isaac Bolum, some one of the store worthies, had met defeat there +before me. At last I gave up, and by a sudden thought arose and pulled +on my overcoat, and got my hat. Tim was surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not going out?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'll stroll down to the tavern and see this stranger," I +replied carelessly. "No, you needn't come. I can find my way alone +all right, for the moon will be up and it's only a step." +</P> + +<P> +It did seem to me that Tim might insist on bearing me company, knowing +as he did that I was still a bit rickety; but he saw fit to take my one +refusal as final, and muttered something about reading. Then, I left +him. +</P> + +<P> +It has been years since they have had a license at our tavern, so there +was a solitary man in the bar-room when I entered. Elmer Spiker, mine +host of the inn, was huddled close to the stove, and was reading by the +light of a lamp. Pausing at the threshold before opening the door, the +sonorous mumble sounding through the deal panels misled me. Believing +the Spiker family at prayers, I stood reverently without until the +service seemed to last too long to be one of devotion. Then I opened a +crack and peeked in. Seeing a lone man at the distant end of the room, +I entered. Elmer's back was toward me and my presence was unnoticed. +His eyes were on the paper before him. +</P> + +<P> +"W. J. Mandelberger, of Martins Mills, was among us last Friday," he +read, slowly, distinctly, measuring every word. "He paid his +subscription for the year and informed us that Mrs. Mandelberger had +just presented him with a bouncing baby boy. Congratulations, W. J." +</P> + +<P> +I coughed apologetically, but Elmer rattled the paper just then, and +did not notice me. +</P> + +<P> +He went rumbling on: "William Arker, of Popolomus, and Miss Myrtle +McGee, of Turkey Valley, were united in the holy bonds of matrimony on +the sixth ultimo." +</P> + +<P> +"Elmer," I said sharply, thumping the floor with a crutch. +</P> + +<P> +Spiker turned slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," he exclaimed, "is that you? Excuse me; I was reading the news. +Everybody ought to keep up with what's happenin'. The higher up we +gits on the ladder of human intelligence, the more news we have—we can +see furder." +</P> + +<P> +Having evolved this sage remark, Elmer twisted back to his old position +and raised the paper. +</P> + +<P> +"Now mind this," he said. "Jonas Parker and his wife and four of his +children were——" +</P> + +<P> +"See here," I cried, pounding the floor again. "I don't care for Jonas +Parker and all of his children. Where is Mr. Weston?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Elmer, "excuse me. I thought you had come to see me. It's +Weston, eh? Well, his room's just there at the head of the stairs." +</P> + +<P> +He pointed to the door which gave an entrance to the rear hall, but as +I wished to be a bit formal in my call on the stranger, I suggested +that Mr. Spiker might oblige me by seeing if the gentleman was at home. +This seemed entirely unnecessary to mine host, and he wanted to argue +the point. But I insisted, and he arose with a sigh, and taking the +lamp in his hand, disappeared, leaving me in utter darkness. The door +banged shut behind him and I heard him at the foot of the stairs +roaring "Ho-ho-there-ho!" +</P> + +<P> +No answer came from the floor above. Again sounded the stentorian +tones. +</P> + +<P> +"Mark says as if you are there, you're to come down; he wants to see +you." +</P> + +<P> +A last "Ho-there-ho"; a long silence; the door opened. There was light +again and Elmer was before me. +</P> + +<P> +"He ain't there, I guess," he said. "Still, if you want me to make +sure, I'll go up." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-082"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-082.jpg" ALT="No answer came from the floor above." BORDER="2" WIDTH="169" HEIGHT="300"> +<H4> +[Illustration: No answer came from the floor above.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Inasmuch as mine host's cries must still be echoing in the uttermost +parts of the house, it seemed needless to compel him to take the climb. +Spiker agreed with me. It was not surprising that Weston was out, for +he was an odd one, always spooking around somewhere, investigating +everything, and asking questions. His room was full of books in +various languages, and when he wasn't wandering about the valley, he +would be sitting reading far into the night—sometimes as late as +half-past ten. There was a fellow named Goth, who seemed to be +Weston's favorite writer. This Goth was a Pennsylvania Dutchman, and +as Elmer's own ancestors were from Allentown, he thought he'd like to +take up the language, so he'd borrowed from his guest a book called +"The Sorrows of Werther." Of all the rubbish that was ever wrote, them +"Sorrows" were the poorest. Elmer had only figured out a page and a +half, but that gave him enough insight into their character to convince +him that a man who could set reading them till half-past ten was—here +mine host tapped his forehead and winked. Curious chap, Weston. Elmer +had seen a heap of men in his time and never met the like. There's no +way to get to see men and understand them like keeping a hotel. When +you've "kept" for about forty years, there's hardly a man comes along +that you can't set right down in his particular class before he's even +registered. But Weston had blocked him at every turn. Elmer knew no +more of the man now than on the day he came. In fact, he was getting +more and more tangled up about him all the time. For instance, why +should one who could read Goth and understand the "Sorrows," want to +set around the store and argue with such-like ignoramuses as Ike Bolum +and Hen Holmes? Spiker was willing to bet that right now Weston was +over the way trying to prove to them that two and two was four. +</P> + +<P> +The suggestion seemed a likely one, so I interrupted the flow of +Elmer's troubled thoughts to say good-night, and went out. I paused a +moment on the porch. A lamp was blazing in the store and I could +plainly see everyone gathered along the counter. Henry Holmes was +standing with his back to the stove, one hand wagging up and down at +the solemn line of figures on the bench. But Weston was not there. +And in our valley, when a man is not at home o'night he should be at +the store, else there is a mystery to be solved. To solve this one I +stopped on the tavern steps, leaned against a pillar, and gazed through +the dozing village. +</P> + +<P> +At the head of the street where our house stood a bright light burned. +There Tim was and there I should be also. A hundred times down South +on my post at night, with my back on the rows and rows of white tents, +I had sought to pierce the black gloom before me as if there I could +see that same light—the home light. Often I fancied I saw it, and in +its bright circle Tim was bending over his book. Here it was in truth, +calling me, but I turned from it and looked away over the flats, where +another light was winking on the hillside. +</P> + +<P> +Behind that hill, on the eastward ridge, a great ball is glowing, fiery +red. Higher and higher it rises, into the tree-tops, then over them; +higher and higher, bathing the valley in soft, white light, uncovering +the gray road that climbs the ridge-side; higher and higher, until the +pines on the ridge-top stand out boldly, fringing into the sky; higher +and higher, casting mysterious shadows over the meadows, touching with +light the hillside, new-ploughed and naked; clear and white lies the +road over the flats to the hill there—clear and white and smooth. On +the hillside the light is burning. It is only a short half mile, and +the way is easy. In the old house at the end of the street another +light is blinking solemnly. Beneath it Tim is waiting. He misses me. +He wonders why I am so long. Soon he will be coming. Base deserter, +truly! But for once—this once—for the white road over the flat and +up the hillside leads to the light! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VI +</H3> + + +<P> +"Why, Mark, but you did give me a start!" cried Luther Warden, laying +down his book and hurrying forward to greet me. +</P> + +<P> +It was not surprising that the good man should be taken back, for in +all the years we had lived together in the valley this was my first +evening visit. So unusual an occurrence required an explanation, so I +said that I just happened to be taking a stroll and dropped in for a +minute. I glanced at Mary to see if she understood my feeble +subterfuge, but I met only a frank smile, as though, like her uncle, +she believed that I was likely to go hobbling about on moonlight nights +this way. Luther never doubted me. +</P> + +<P> +"It's good of you to drop in," he said, after he had fixed me in his +own comfortable chair and drawn up the settee for himself. "When I was +livin' alone up here I often used to wish some of you young folks would +come in of an evenin' and keep me company and join me in readin' the +Good Book. It used to be lonely sometimes, but since I've got Mary it +ain't so bad. But I hope her bein' here won't make no difference, and +now as you've started you'll come just the same as if I was alone." +</P> + +<P> +I assured him that I would come just the same. That made Mary laugh. +She had been sitting in the lamp-lit circle, and now she rocked back +into the shade, so, craning my neck, I could just see the dark outline +of her face. She made some commonplace but kindly speech of welcome, +and I was about to engage her, seeking to draw her from the shadow, +when her uncle suddenly interposed himself between us and took a book +from the table. Drawing the settee closer to the light, he opened the +great volume across his knees and adjusted his spectacles. Throwing +back his head and looking at me benignly from under his glasses, he +said: "It's peculiarly fortunate you come to-night, Mark. When you +knocked I was readin' aloud to Mary. We read together every night now, +her and me, and most instructin' we find it." +</P> + +<P> +I told Luther that it was too much for me to allow him to wear out his +eyes reading to me; much as I should enjoy it, I could not hear of it, +but I would ask him to let me have the volume when he had finished with +it. It did seem that this should bring Mary into the light again, and +that she would support my protests; but calmly and quietly she spoke +from the darkness, like a voice from another world, "Go on, Uncle +Luther; I want Mr. Hope to hear this." +</P> + +<P> +Now had Mary Warden called me by my Christian name she would have +followed the custom of our valley and it would have passed unnoticed; +but when she used that uncalled-for "Mister" her uncle looked around +sharply. First he tried to pierce the shadows and see her, but she +drew farther and farther into the darkness. So he gazed at me. He was +beginning to suspect that after all I had not come to see him. Had +Mark Hope become proud? Was Mary falling again into the ways of the +wicked world from which he was striving so hard to wean her, that she +should thus address one of the humblest of God's creatures, a mere man? +Old Luther rubbed his spectacles very carefully and slowly; blowing on +them and rubbing them again; finally adjusting them, he leaned forward +and tried to study the girl's face, to find there some solution of the +puzzle. +</P> + +<P> +"Read to Mr. Hope," she said clearly, and with just a touch of defiance. +</P> + +<P> +Had she used some endearing term the old man could not have frowned +harder than when he turned on me then, and eyed me through his great +spectacles. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, read to us, Luther," said I calmly; "Miss Warden and I will +listen." +</P> + +<P> +"God has been very good to me," said the old man solemnly, "and I've +not yet heard Him call me Mister Luther Warden. I s'pose with you and +your kind, when He comes to you, He calls you Mister Mark Hope." +</P> + +<P> +This rather took me back, and I stammered a feeble protest, but he did +not heed me. Turning to Mary, he went on: "And you, Mary Warden, I +s'pose at such times you are 'Miss.' What wanity! What wanity! +Politeness, they calls it. Politeness? Well, in the great eternity, +up above, where they speaks from the heart, you'll be just Mark and +just Mary. But down yander—yander, mind ye—the folks will probably +set more store by titles." The old preacher was pointing solemnly in +the direction of the cellar. +</P> + +<P> +There was a long pause, an interval of heavy silence. Then from Mary +in the darkness came, "Well, Uncle, let us hope that when we reach that +great eternity, Mark and I will be good enough friends to lay aside +such vanities." +</P> + +<P> +"Right!" cried Luther, smiling again, and speaking real heartily. +</P> + +<P> +"Right," said I; "and we'll begin eternity to-day, won't we, Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +"We will," said she. +</P> + +<P> +And in my heart I blessed Luther Warden. Guilelessly, the old man, in +a few words, had swept away the barrier Mary and I had raised between +us. He had added years to our friendship. So had he stopped there it +would have been wonderfully well; but he had to go floundering +innocently on. He was laughing softly. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know, Mark," he said, rubbing his spectacles nervously, "she +made me jealous of you when she talked that way. I thought she'd set +her cap for you, I did. Whenever a man and woman gits polite, whenever +they has to bow and scrape that way, a-misterin' and a-missin' one +another, they're hiding somethin'; they ain't actin' open. So I was +beginnin' to think mebbe she wanted to marry you and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Go on reading—please read to us," pleaded Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, do read to us," I echoed, for the position was a new one to me, +and at best I am awkward and slow-witted where women are concerned. I +could not adroitly turn the old man's wandering speculation into a +general laugh as Weston would have done. My best was to break in +rudely. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—if I must," Luther said, opening the great book across his knees. +</P> + +<P> +A long silence followed. I heard the solemn ticking of the clock on +the mantel behind me; I heard Mary laughing softly in her retreat +beyond the table; I heard Luther, now bending over his book, mumbling +to himself a few words of the text. +</P> + +<P> +"It is about the faymine in Injy," he said at last, holding his place +on the page with a long, thin forefinger, and looking up at me. "There +are three volumes, and this is the second. The third is yit to come. +I pay a dollar a year and every year I gits a new volume. It's a grand +book, too, Mark. It was wrote by one of our brethren, Brother Matthias +Pennel, who went to Injy in charge of a shipload of grain gathered by +our people for the sufferin' heathen. The first volume tells all about +the gittin' up of the subscription and the sailin' of the wessel. +Brother Matthias is a grand writer, and he tells all about Injy and the +heathen, and how the wessel reached the main place there—what's the +place, Mary?—you're allus good on geography!" +</P> + +<P> +"Calcutta," prompted Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I mind now—Calcutty. Well, from there Brother Matthias went up +into the country called—I can't just mind the exact name—oh, here it +is—B-a-l-l-e-r-r-a-d Ballerrad—e-r-a-d—Ballerraderad." +</P> + +<P> +Luther paused and sighed. "Them names—them names!" he exclaimed. "If +there is one thing that convinces me that the story of the Tower of +Babel is true, it is the names of the towns in Injy." +</P> + +<P> +It seemed to me that perhaps from the viewpoint of the East Indian, the +same thing might be said of our "villes" and "burgs," and I was about +to raise my voice in behalf of the maligned heathen, when my host +resumed his discourse. +</P> + +<P> +"When you come in, I was readin' about a poor missionary woman in +Baller—Baller—Ballerraderad—whose Sunday-school had been largely eat +up by taggers. Her name was Flora Martin, Brother Matthias says, and +she was one of the saintliest women he ever seen. He tells how the +month before he come to Baller—Baller—Baller-daddad—an extry large +tagger had been sneakin' around the mission-house, a-watchin' for +scholars, and how one day, when, according to Brother Matthias, this +here Flora Martin, armed only with a rifle and girded about with the +heavenly sperrit—how this here Flora——" +</P> + +<P> +There was a ponderous knock on the door, and then the knob began to +rattle violently. The bolt had been shot, so Luther had to rise in +haste to admit the new-comer, leaving Flora Martin with nothing but the +rifle and the heavenly spirit. +</P> + +<P> +Perry Thomas stepped in. +</P> + +<P> +"I just happened to be passin' and thought I'd drop in for a spell," he +said, with a profound bow to Mary, who arose to greet him. +</P> + +<P> +This apology of Perry's was as absurd as mine had been, for he lived a +mile on the other side of the village; and as the next house was over +the ridge, a good three miles away, it was odd that he should be +wandering aimlessly about thus. Besides, he had on his new Prince +Albert, and there was a suspicion of a formal call in the smoothly +oiled hair and tallowed boots. He carried his fiddle, too. There was +to my mind every evidence that the visit had been preconceived, and to +this point had been carried out with an eye on every detail. Had the +contrary been true, there would have been no cause for Perry to glare +at me as he did. The he-ro in blue was anything but welcome now. +Indeed, it seemed that could Perry's wish have been complied with, I +should be back on the "lead-strewn fields of Cuby." +</P> + +<P> +Mary was most cordial. She seized his fiddle and his hat and stowed +them carefully away together, while Luther, pushing the latest visitor +to a place at his side on the settee, told him how fortunate he was to +drop in just at that time, as he would hear a few interesting things +about the famine in India. +</P> + +<P> +Perry was positively ungrateful. He declared that he could only stay a +minute at the most, and that it was really not worth Luther's while to +begin reading. Mary said that she would not hear of him leaving. She +had hidden his hat and would insist on his playing; that was, if I did +not mind and her uncle gave his permission. Perry smiled. There was +less fire in his eyes when I vowed that not till I had listened again +to the song of his beloved violin would I stir from my chair. So he +settled back to pay the price and hear the story of Flora Martin and +the tiger. +</P> + +<P> +Luther repeated his account of the book and the story of Brother +Matthias Pennel. He told Perry of Sister Flora and her saintly +character, and of the devastation by the fierce king of the Bengal +jungle. He brought us again to where the frail little woman determined +to fight death with death. And here, in low, rumbling tones, letter by +letter, word by word, we took up the narrative of the adventurous +Dunker brother. +</P> + +<P> +"Thus armed with only a heavy elephant rifle, the property of the +foreign missionary society, and clad only in grace, Flora Martin began +her lonely vigil on the roof of the mission-house, which is used both +as a dwelling and Sunday-school by those who are carrying light to the +heathen in Ballerraderad, which, we must remember, is one of the most +populous provinces in all Injy. This combined dwelling and church +edifice stands at the far end of the little village, and as the lonely +Indian moon was just rising above the horizon, Sister Flora heard a +series of catlike footsteps along the veranda beneath her—for we must +remember that in this part of our globe the nights are strangely still +and the sounds therefore carry for a great distance. Breathlessly +Flora Martin, mindful of the slumbering innocent charges sleeping below +her, and over whom she was watching, leaned out over the roof, rifle in +hand. The footsteps came nearer and nearer and——" +</P> + +<P> +There was a gentle rat-tat-tat on the door. It was so gentle that +Luther thought his ears were deceiving him, for while he stopped +reading, he made no motion to rise, but sat listening. Again they +came, three polite taps, seeming to say, "I should like to get in, but +pray don't disturb yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"Come in," shouted the old preacher, not even looking around, for he +still seemed to doubt his sense of hearing. +</P> + +<P> +The door opened quietly and Mr. Robert Weston appeared before us. Mary +had slipped from her place to meet him, and in Weston's greeting to her +I had my first lesson in what the world calls manner. How clumsy +seemed my own excuses for coming at all, compared to his pleasure at +finding her at home! He had been looking forward all afternoon to +seeing her again. As he shook hands with Luther, he was so hearty that +the old man took his guest by the shoulders and declared fervidly that +he was rejoiced that he had come. Weston did not glare at Perry +Thomas, nor at me either. We but added to his pleasure. Truly his cup +of joy was overflowing! And the famine in India—indeed—indeed! The +subject was one which interested him deeply, and if Mr. Warden cared +for it, he would send him several books on the far East which he had in +his library at home. He hoped that in return he might some time have +the pleasure of reading carefully, cover to cover, the fat volume that +Luther had spread across his knees. Meantime, he would insist on not +interrupting. But Mary must be comfortably seated before he could take +the place on the settee that Luther had arranged for him, and he must +hear all over again the story of the book, of Brother Matthias Pennel +and Sister Flora Martin. How I envied him! What must Perry and I seem +beside this lanky man with his kindly, easy ways! Perry, of course, +did not see it. He was smiling, for Weston was telling him that he had +stood at the Thomas gate for a half hour the very evening before, +listening to the strains of a violin. He hoped to hear that melody +again, when Mr. Warden had finished the story of the brave missionary +of Ballerraderad. +</P> + +<P> +The Dunker preacher was beaming. He forgot the great doctrine of +humility, and declared that "Mister" Weston should have the volume that +very night. There was nothing better to give a clear view of the +character of the work than Brother Matthias Pennel's account of the +heroism of Sister Flora. So we composed ourselves again to hear of the +battle to the death between the noble missionary woman and the mighty +Bengal. +</P> + +<P> +"Nearer and nearer came the footsteps," read Luther, pausing at each +word to make sure of it. "Furder and furder out over the top of the +mission-house leaned Sister Flora, and as she leaned she thought how +much depended on her that night; for she must remember that there were +sleeping within the walls of the mission-house forty-seven children, +thirty of which were females under the age of eleven years, and +seventeen males, of whom not one-half had reached the age of nine +years. Next she saw a dark object crouching below her. She saw two +fiery eyes; she saw the tiger gather himself preparatory to springing. +She——" +</P> + +<P> +Perry Thomas's knock had been ponderous, thunderous, and clumsy. +Weston's had been self-assured, but polite. Now came a series of raps, +now loud, now low, now quick, now slow, keeping time to a martial air. +Evidently there was a rollicking fellow outside. No one moved. We sat +there, all five of us, eyes wide open in surprise, trying to guess, who +this could be playing tunes on the door, and never seeking to solve the +simple problem by turning the knob. +</P> + +<P> +It was Tim. There was a sudden oppressive silence. Then he entered, +gravely bowing. +</P> + +<P> +"Good evening, Mr. Warden," he said mockingly. "You have a delightful +way here of greeting the stranger at your gate, closing your ears to +his appeals and letting him break in. And Miss Warden too—why, this +is a surprise. I had supposed you'd be at a ball. And Mr. +Weston—delighted—I'm sure——" +</P> + +<P> +"What, Mark?" There was genuine surprise in Tim's voice as he saw me +sitting quietly in the shadow. His mock elegance disappeared, and he +stood gaping at me. "I thought you'd gone to see Mr. Weston," he +blurted out. +</P> + +<P> +"He came to see me instead," said Mary laughing. "And so did Mr. +Weston and Mr. Thomas, and so I hope you did. And if you sit down +there by Uncle Luther and be quiet, you shall hear about the famine in +India." +</P> + +<P> +Tim just filled the settee. In my dark corner, in my comfortable +chair, I could smile to myself as I watched his plight and that of his +companions. I could not see Mary well, for the lamp and the long table +separated us, but I fancied that in her retreat she, too, was laughing. +Poor Tim had the end of the bench. He sat very erect, with his head +up, his eyes on the wall before him, his folded hands resting on his +knees, after the company manner of Black Log. Mr. Perry Thomas, at the +other end, was his counterpart, only the orator drew his chin into his +collar, furrowed his brow, and gazed wisely at the floor. He was where +Mary could see him! +</P> + +<P> +Weston had none of our stiff, formal ways, but was making himself as +much at home as possible in such trying circumstances. He spread out +all over the narrow space allotted him between Luther and my brother. +But curiously enough, he really seemed interested. It was he who told, +in greatest detail, to Tim the story of Brother Matthias Pennel and of +the trials of the saintly Flora Martin. When he had recounted her +adventures to the very instant she caught the gleam of the tiger's +eyes, he calmly swung one lank leg over the knee of the other, slid +down in his seat so he could hook his head on the hard back, and said, +cheerily, "Now, Mr. Warden, go on reading and let no one interrupt." +</P> + +<P> +Perry was coughing feebly, as he always does when he is plotting to +speak. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," cried Weston in protest; "I insist, Mr. Thomas, that you stay +and play the violin to us when we have heard the end of this +interesting story." +</P> + +<P> +It was with mingled feelings that I regarded Brother Matthias Pennel. +As I had stood on the tavern porch that night, looking up the white +road that led to Mary's home, I had dared to picture to myself a +different scene from the one before me. From that scene Luther Warden +had been removed entirely. Of Robert Weston, of Perry Thomas, of Tim, +I had taken no account. They had not even been dreamed of, for Mary +and I were to sit alone in the quiet of the evening. The flash of her +eyes was to be for me—for me their softer glowing. At my calling the +rich flames would blaze on her cheeks. I was to light those flames. I +was to fan them this way and that way. I was to smother them, kindle +them, quench them. Playing with the fire of a woman's face! Dangerous +work, that! And up the white road I had hobbled to the fire, as a +simple child crawls to it. But Luther Warden was there to guard me +with Brother Matthias Pennel, and in my inmost heart I hated them both +for it. Then Perry Thomas blundered in, and compared to him, old +Luther and his learned brother were endurable. As to Robert Weston, I +knew that beside him Matthias Pennel was my dearest friend. Then Tim +came! and as I looked at the long settee where Luther was droning on +and on through the story of Sister Flora, where Perry Thomas seemed to +sit beneath the judgment seat, where Weston shifted wearily to and fro, +where Tim was suffering the tortures of the thumb-screw, I cried to my +inmost self, "Verily, Brother Matthias, thou art a mighty joker!" +</P> + +<P> +It took a long time to kill that tiger. There was so much recalling to +be done, so much remembering needed, and reviewing of statistics +concerning the flora and the fauna of the far East, that when at last +the rifle's cry rang out on the still night air, which, as we had +learned, in India carries sound to a much greater distance than in our +cold, Northern climes; when the mighty Bengal reeled and fell dying, +and Sister Flora sprang from her hiding place on the roof to sing a +hymn of praise; when all this had been told, Luther Warden banged the +book shut, arose, and looked at the clock. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-105"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-105.jpg" ALT="The tiger story." BORDER="2" WIDTH="529" HEIGHT="383"> +<H4> +[Illustration: The tiger story.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Mighty souls!" he cried. "It's long past bed-time. It's half-past +nine." +</P> + +<P> +Back over the white road we went, Weston and Perry, Tim and I. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-night, boys!" called the strange man cheerily from the gloom of +the tavern porch. +</P> + +<P> +It was the first word he had spoken on our walk home. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it two million five hundred and sixty thousand, or two hundred and +fifty-six thousand persons that are bitten annually by snakes in +India?" cried Tim, suddenly awaking from his moody silence. +</P> + +<P> +"You can go back to-morrow and find out," came from the porch. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-night, Mr. Weston," returned my brother sharply. +</P> + +<P> +Perry Thomas parted from us at the gate, and we stood watching his +retreating figure till we lost it at the bend. Then we went in. +</P> + +<P> +Standing at the foot of the stairs, with a lighted candle in his hand, +Tim turned suddenly to me and said, "I thought you were going to see +Weston." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you were sitting at home waiting for me to get back," I +retorted. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I help you upstairs?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I'm going to sit awhile and smoke," I answered jauntily, "and +talk—to Captain." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VII +</H3> + + +<P> +Tim was leaving the valley. We tied his tin trunk on the back of the +buggy and he climbed to the seat beside me. Tip Pulsifer handed him a +great cylindrical parcel, bound in a newspaper, and my brother held it +reverently in his lap; for it was a chocolate cake, six layers high, +that Mrs. Tip had baked from the scanty contents of the Pulsifer flour +barrel. Tim was going to the city, and all the city people Mrs. Tip +had ever seen were lean, quick-moving and nervous, a condition which +she concluded was induced by starvation. So she had done her best to +provide Tim against want. Her mind was the mind of Six Stars. All the +village was about the buggy. Josiah Nummler had rowed down from his +hill-top, and the bulge in Tim's pocket was caused by the half dozen +fine pippins which the old man had brought as his farewell gift. Even +Theophilus Jones left the store unguarded, and hurried over when the +moment arrived that the village was to see the last of its favorite +son. Mrs. Tip Pulsifer is always red about the eyes, and no way was +left her to show her emotion but to toss her apron convulsively over +her face and swing Cevery wildly to and fro, so that the infant's cries +arose above the chorus of "good-bys" as we drove away. +</P> + +<P> +"Farewell, comrade." We heard Aaron Kallaberger's stentorian tones as +we clattered around the bend. "Head up—eyes front—for'a'd!" +</P> + +<P> +Tim turned and waved his hat to the little company at the gate, to all +the friends he had ever known, to the best he ever was to know; to Mrs. +Bolum and her Isaac, feebly waving the hands that had so often helped +him in time of boyish trouble; to Nanny Pulsifer and Tip; to all the +worthies of the store. +</P> + +<P> +Tim was off to war. He was going to take part in a greater battle than +I had ever seen, for I had been one of thousands who had marched +together on a common enemy. He was going forth as did Launcelot and +Galahad, alone, to meet his enemies at every turn, to be sore pressed, +and bruised and wounded; not to be as I was, a part of a machine, but +to be the machine and the god in it, too. How I envied him! He was +going forth to encounter many strange adventures, and while he was in +the press, laying about him in all the glory of his strength, fighting +his way against a mob, to fame and fortune, I should be dozing life +away with Captain. +</P> + +<P> +"Did it feel that way when you left?" said Tim. He spoke for the first +time when we passed the tannery lane, and his voice was a wee bit husky. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose it's the same with everybody when they turn the bend," I +answered. +</P> + +<P> +"That's it exactly—at the turn in the road—when you can't see home +any more—when you'd give all the world to turn back, but dare not." +Tim had faced about and was looking over the valley as we climbed the +long slope of the ridge. "It's just like being torn in two, isn't it?" +he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally," said I. "Home and home people are as much a part of you +as head and limbs. When I dragged you away, binding you here in the +buggy with your tin trunk and your ambition, something had to snap." +</P> + +<P> +"And it snapped at the bend," Tim said grimly; "when I saw the last of +the house and the rambo tree at the end of the orchard." +</P> + +<P> +My brother took to whistling. He started away bravely with a +rollicking air, keeping time to the creaking of the buggy and the slow +crunching of the horse's feet on the gravel road. Even that failed +him. We were at the crest of the hill; we were turning another bend; +we were in the woods, and through the trees he had a last look at Black +Log. And it's such a little valley, too, that it would hardly seem +worth looking back on when the rich fields of Kishikoquillas roll away +before one! The lone pine on the stone cap of Gander Knob waved its +farewell, and we clattered down the long slope into the great world. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-113"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-113.jpg" ALT="He had a last look back at Black Log." BORDER="2" WIDTH="348" HEIGHT="574"> +<H4> +[Illustration: He had a last look back at Black Log.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"It's all over at last," said Tim, smiling, "and now I am glad I've +come; for Black Log is a good place, but it's so little, after all." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid you will find it bigger than a desk in Western's office, +and a tiny room on a cramped city street," said I. +</P> + +<P> +My brother recovered his old spirit and refused to be discouraged by my +pessimistic view of his expedition. He laughed gayly and pointed +across the country where half a dozen spires of smoke were rising. +There was the railroad. There was the great highway where his real +journey was to start. There was the beginning of his great adventure. +I was the last outpost of the friendly land, and he was going into the +unknown. There we were to part! It was my turn to whistle and to +watch the wheels as, mile by mile, they measured off the road to that +last bend, where I should see no more of Tim. +</P> + +<HR WIDTH="80%"> + +<P> +There was something strange in my brother's resolve to leave Six Stars +and try his fortunes in the city. Just as I had settled down to the +old easy ways which my absence had made doubly dear to me, when we +should have been drawn closer to each other than ever, and my +dependence on him was greatest, he announced his purpose. It was only +yesterday. I returned from my accustomed afternoon visit to the +Wardens to find him rummaging the house for a few of his more personal +belongings and stowing them away in a small, blue tin trunk that a +little while before had adorned the counter in the store. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to New York," he said, not giving me time to inquire into +his strange proceeding. +</P> + +<P> +I laughed. Tim was joking. This was some odd prank. He had borrowed +the tin trunk and was giving me a travesty on Tip Pulsifer fleeing over +the mountain from his petulant spouse: for last night Tim and I had had +a little tiff. For the first time I had forgotten the post-prandial +pipe, and undismayed by the horrors of the famine in India or the +tribulations of Sister Flora Martin, journeyed up the road to sit at +Mary's side. +</P> + +<P> +"Over the mountain, eh, Tim?" I laughed. "And is Tip going?" +</P> + +<P> +My brother caught my meaning, but he did not smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Honest," he said. "I am going to New York." +</P> + +<P> +"To New York!" I cried. My crutches clattered to the floor as I sank +into my chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Tim, speaking so quietly that I knew it was the truth. +"Mr. Weston has given me a position in his store. It's a tea importing +concern, and he owns it, though he doesn't spend much time at his +business." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't think you'd leave me alone." The words were hardly spoken +till I regretted them. I had spoken in spite of my better self, for +what right had I to stand between my brother and a broader life? When +I had gone away to see the world, he had plodded on patiently in the +narrow valley to keep a home for me. Now that I was back, it was +justly his turn to go beyond the mountains and learn something more +than the dull routine of the farm and the sleepy village. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate to leave you, Mark," he said. "But you have felt as I feel +about getting away and seeing something. Still, if you really want me +to stay, I'll give it up. But you are a good deal to blame. You have +told me of what you saw when you were in the army. You have showed me +that there are bigger things in this world than plodding after a +plough, and more exciting chases than those after foxes. I want to do +more than sit on a nail-keg in the store and discuss big events. I +want to have a little part in them myself—you understand." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Tim," said I, "you are right, and I'll get along first rate." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the way to talk," he cried cheerfully, slapping me on the +shoulder. "You won't be half as lonely here as I shall down there in a +strange city; and when you clean away the supper dishes and light your +pipe and think of me, I'll be lighting mine and thinking of you +and——" He stopped. Captain had trotted in, and was sitting close +by, looking first at one and then at the other of us quizzically. +"You'll have Captain," added Tim, laughing, "and then by and by, when I +am making money, you and Captain will come down to the city and we'll +all smoke our pipes together—eh, Captain?" +</P> + +<P> +The hound leaped up and Tim caught his forepaws and the two went +dancing around the room until a long-drawn howl warned us that such +bipedic capers were not to the dog's liking. +</P> + +<P> +"Captain isn't going to leave home, Tim," I cried. "You mustn't expect +him to take so active a part in your demonstrations of joy." +</P> + +<P> +"It wasn't the delight of leaving home made me dance," returned the +boy. "It was the contemplation of the time we'll have when we get +together again." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why go away at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"There you are. A minute ago you agreed with me; you were right with +me in my plan to do something in this world. Now you are using your +cunning arguments to dissuade me. But you can't stop me, Mark. I've +accepted the place. Mr. Weston has sent word that I am coming, and +there you are. I must keep to my bargain." +</P> + +<P> +"When did Weston arrange all this for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"This morning. We were on Blue Gum Ridge hunting squirrels, and we got +to talking over one thing and another. I guess I kind of opened +up—for he's a clever man, Mark. Why, he pumped me dry. We hadn't sat +there on a log very long till he knew the whole family history and +about everything I had ever learned or thought of. He asked me if I +intended to spend all my life here, and I said it looked that way, and +then I told him how I wanted to go and do something and be somebody." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-120"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-120.jpg" ALT=""He pumped me dry."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="326" HEIGHT="386"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "He pumped me dry."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Tim stopped suddenly, and winked at Captain. "I told him I wanted to +go away and see something as you had done, for I was weary of listening +to your accounts of things you'd seen. It's awful to have to listen to +another's travels. It must be fine to tell about your own." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, is it my talking that's driving you away, or is it Weston's +alluring offers?" +</P> + +<P> +"Alluring?" Tim laughed. "I'll say for Weston, he is frank. He told +me that to his mind business was worse than death. He was born to it. +His father left it to him and he has to keep it going to live; but he +lets his partner look after it mostly, and he is always worrying lest +his partner should die and leave him with the whole thing on his hands. +He told me I'd have to drudge in a dark office over books for ten hours +a day, and that it would be years before I began to see any rewards. +By that time I would probably decide that the old-fashioned scheme of +having kings born to order was more sensible than making men wear their +lives out trying to become rulers. A cow was contented, he said, +because it was satisfied to stand under a tree and breathe the free +air, and look up into the blue skies and over the green fields, and +chew the cud. As long as the cow was satisfied with one cud it would +be contented; but once the idea got abroad in the pasture that two cuds +were required for a respectable cow, peace and happiness were gone +forever." +</P> + +<P> +"Our lanky stranger seems a wise man," said I. "In the face of all +that, what did you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"I told him I wasn't a cow," Tim answered. +</P> + +<P> +There was no controverting such a reply, and though my sympathies were +with the pessimistic Weston, I dared not raise my voice in defence of +his logic as against this young brother. Tim seemed to think that the +fact that he was not a cow turned from him all the force of Weston's +philosophy, and insisted on going blindly on in search of another cud. +</P> + +<P> +"He laughed when I said that," Tim continued, "and he said he guessed +there was no sense in using figures of speech to me, but he was willing +to bet that some time I would come to his way of thinking. I told him +that perhaps I would when I had seen as much of men and things as he +had; but now I looked about me with the mind and the eye of a yokel. +That was just what I wanted to escape. He was himself talking to me +from a vantage-point of superior knowledge, and the consciousness of my +own inferiority was one of the main things to spur me on." +</P> + +<P> +"At that he gave you up?" said I. +</P> + +<P> +"He gave me up," Tim answered; "and after all, Mark, old Weston is a +fine fellow. He said that there was just one thing for me to do, and +that was to see and learn for myself. So he wrote to his partner +to-day, and I go in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"But must you go on a day's notice?" +</P> + +<P> +"The quicker the better, Mark; and you see I haven't been letting any +grass grow under my feet. When Weston and I reached our conclusion, I +went to the store and got the trunk. In the interval of packing, I've +gone over to Pulsifer's and arranged for Tip to work regularly for you +this winter, looking after the farm. He wanted to go up to Snyder +County and dig for gold. He knows where there's gold in Snyder County +and you may have trouble there; but when you see any signs of a break +you are to tell Mrs. Tip. She says she'll head him off all right. +Nanny Pulsifer, by the way, will come every day and straighten up the +house. I saw Mrs. Bolum, and she said she would keep an eye on Nanny +Pulsifer, for Nanny is likely to get one of her religious spells and +quit work. When you hear her singing hymns around the house, you are +to tell Mrs. Bolum." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-124"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-124.jpg" ALT=""Nanny is likely to get one of her religious spells and quit work."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="196" HEIGHT="293"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "Nanny is likely to get one of her religious spells and quit work."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Who will look after Mrs. Bolum? To whom must I appeal when I see +signs there?" +</P> + +<P> +"When Mrs. Bolum fails you, Mark, write to me," Tim answered. "When +you see signs of her neglecting you, drop me a line and I'll be home in +three days." +</P> + +<P> +"I may have to appeal to you to save me from my friends," I said, "if +Tip Pulsifer goes digging gold and Nanny Pulsifer gets religion and old +Mrs. Bolum belies her nature and forgets me. But anyway, if Captain +and I sit here at night knee-deep in dust and cobwebs, at least we can +swell our chests and talk about our brother in the city, who is +making—how much?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seven dollars a week!" cried Tim. "Think of it, Mark, seven dollars a +week. That's more than you made as a soldier." +</P> + +<HR WIDTH="80%"> + +<P> +"We are near the last bend, Tim. Yes—I'll say good-by to Mary for +you. I'll tell her that in the hurry you forgot her. And she will +believe me! Why didn't you go up the hill last night, instead of +sneaking off this way?—for you know you didn't forget her. That last +smoke—that's right—you and Captain and I, and our pipes. I fear she +did pass from our minds, but we had many things to talk over in those +last hours. I promise you I will go up to-night and explain. Tell +Weston about that fox on Gander Knob—of course I shall. School starts +tomorrow, else I'd be after him myself; but on Saturday we'll hie to +the mountain, Weston and Captain and I. You, Tim, shall have the skin, +a memento of the valley. I'll say good-by to Captain again, and I'll +keep the guns oiled, and Piney Carter shall have the rifle whenever he +wants it—provided he cleans it every hunting night. And I'll tell old +Mrs. Bolum—but the train is going to start. Are you sure you have +your ticket, and your check, and your lunch? Yes, I'll say good-by to +Mary for you.—Good-by, Tim!" +</P> + +<P> +And Tim went around the bend. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VIII +</H3> + + +<P> +Books! Books! Eternal, infernal books! The sun was printing over the +floor the shadow skeleton of the juniper-tree by the westerly window. +That always told me it was one o'clock. And one o'clock meant books +again—three long hours of wrangling with dull wits, of fencing with +sharper ones; three long hours of a-b-abs, of two-times-twos and +three-times-threes; hours of spelling and of parsing, hours of bounding +and describing. With it all, woven through it, now swelling, now dying +away, now broken by a shrill cry of pain or anger, was the ceaseless +buzzing of the school. There was no rest for the eye, even. The walls +were white, their glare was baneful, and through the chalk-dust mist the +rustling field of young heads suggested anything but peace and repose to +one of my calling. That was the field I worked in. +</P> + +<P> +I had been with Tim. His letter from New York was in my hands, and over +and over I had read it, until I knew every twist in the writing. In the +reading I had been carried away from myself, and seemed to be beside him +in his battle in the world, laying about with him right lustily. Then by +force of habit I had looked up and had seen the shadow of the +juniper-tree. I was back in my prison. And it was books! +</P> + +<A NAME="img-129"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-129.jpg" ALT="I was back in my prison." BORDER="2" WIDTH="323" HEIGHT="315"> +<H4> +[Illustration: I was back in my prison.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Brace up there, Daniel Arker, and quit your blubbering!" I cried. +</P> + +<P> +Daniel was a snuffler. Whenever I had a companion in the schoolhouse at +the noon recess, it was generally this lad, and when he was there he was +nursing a wound and snuffling. If there was any trouble to be got into, +if there was a flying ball to come in contact with, ice to break through +or a limb to snap, Daniel never failed to be on hand. Then he would +burst rudely into my solitude and while I sopped cold water over his +injured members, he would blubber. When I turned from him to my own +corner by the window, the blubber would die away into a snuffle, and +there he would sit, his head buried in his hands, snuffling and snuffling +until books. +</P> + +<P> +Now I spoke sharply to the boy. He raised his head and fixed one red eye +on me, for the other was hidden by his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I guesst you was never hit on the eye by a ball, was ye?" he stuttered. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I have been," was my reply. "I was a good round-town player, +and you never saw me crying like that, either." +</P> + +<P> +"I was playin' sock-ball," snuffled the boy, and a solitary tear rolled +down his snub nose. He flicked it away with his right hand, and this act +disclosed to me a great bluish swelling, from under which a bit of eye +was twinkling mournfully at me. The boy was hurt; my heart went out to +him, for the memory of my own sock-ball and tickley-bender days came back +to me. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, come," I said more kindly, laying a hand on the black head. +"Brace up, Daniel, for I must call the others in, and you don't want them +to see you crying. Dare to be like the great Daniel, who wasn't even +afraid of the wild beasts." +</P> + +<P> +"But Dan'el in the Lion's Den never played sock-ball," whimpered the boy, +covering each eye with a chubby fist as he rubbed away the traces of his +tears. +</P> + +<P> +Beware, Daniel Arker! Form not in my mind such a picture as that of the +mighty prophet in his robes being "it." Over the mantel in our parlor we +have a picture of the lion's den, and it is one of the choicest of our +family treasures. Whence it came, we do not know. Even my mother, +familiar as she was with the minutest detail of our family history as far +back as my grandfather's time, could not tell me that; but we always +believed it to be one of the world's great pictures that by some strange +chance had come into our possession. How well I remember my keen +disappointment on learning that it was not a photograph. It took years +to convince Tim of that, and we consoled ourselves that at least it had +been drawn by one who was there. Else how could he have done it so +accurately? For the likeness of Daniel was splendid. The great prophet +of Babylon must have looked just like that. He must have sat on a +boulder in the middle of the rocky chamber, his eyes fixed on the +ceiling, one hand resting languidly on the head of a mighty lion, a +sandalled foot using another hoary mane as a footstool. There were lions +all around him, and how they loved him! You could see it in their eyes. +Tip Pulsifer once told me that Daniel had them charmed, and that he was +looking so intently at the ceiling because he was repeating over and over +again the mystic words—probably Dutch—that his grandfather had taught +him. One slip—and I should see the fiery flash return to the eyes of +the beasts! One slip—and they would be upon him! To Tip I replied that +this was preposterous, as Babylon lived before there was any Dutch, and +there being no Dutch, how could there be effective charms? Daniel was +saved by a miracle. But Tip is slow-witted. Charms were originally +called miracles, he said. The miracle was the father of the charm. +Folks would say there were no charms to-day, yet they would believe in +charms that were worked a few thousand years ago, only they called them +miracles. It was useless to argue with a thick fellow like Tip. I had +always preferred to think of Daniel stilling the wild beasts by the +grandeur of his soul, and the suggestion that I drag him from his throne, +king of men and king of beasts, and picture him playing sock-ball, doing +a double shuffle with his sandalled feet, tossing his long robe wildly +about, now leaping, now dodging, to avoid the flying sphere—it was too +much. It angered me. +</P> + +<P> +"You should be ashamed of yourself, Daniel Arker!" I cried. "The idea of +a boy that comes of good church folks like yours talking that way about +one of the prophets! I'll dally with you no more. The boys shall see +you as you are. It's books!" +</P> + +<P> +I threw the window open and shouted, "Books!" I pounded on the ledge +with my ruler and shouted, "Books!" +</P> + +<P> +For a minute the boys feigned not to see me, and played the harder, +trying to drown my cries in their yells to the runners on the bases. But +the girls took up my call and came trooping schoolward. The little boys +began to break away, and soon the school resounded with the shuffle of +feet, the clatter of empty dinner pails, and the banging of desk tops. +</P> + +<P> +"It's books, William; hurry," I cried to the last laggard. +</P> + +<P> +I knew this boy well. He was the biggest in the school, and to hold his +position among his fellows he had to defy me. As long as I watched him, +he must lag. The louder I called, the deafer he must seem to be. His +post was hemmed around by tradition. It was his by divine right, and it +involved on its holder duties sometimes onerous, often dangerous; but for +him to abate one iota of his privileges would be a reflection on his +predecessors, an injustice to his heirs. It would mean scholastic +revolution. He knew that I must yell at him. My position also was +hemmed about by tradition. To appear not to fear the biggest boy was one +of the chief duties of a successful pedagogue. We understood each other. +So I yelled once more and closed the window. The moment my back was +turned he ran for the door. +</P> + +<P> +"It is," Daniel Arker was shouting. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't," Samuel Carter retorted, sticking out his tongue. +</P> + +<P> +"Boys, be quiet!" I commanded. +</P> + +<P> +"He said his eye was swole worse 'an mine oncet," cried Daniel. +</P> + +<P> +His good eye was blazing, his shoulders were squared back, and his fists +were clenched. There was no sign of a snuffle about him now. Heaven, +but he looked fine! All this time I had wronged Daniel. I had only +known him as he crawled to me broken and bruised after the conflict. I +had never known the odds he had encountered, for when I questioned him he +just snuffled. Now I saw him before the battle, ready to defend his +honor against a lad of more than his years and size, and the wickedest +fighter in the school. I believed that had I let him loose there he +would have whipped. But one in my position is hemmed in by tradition, so +in my private capacity I was patting the boy's head with the same motion +that I used in my public capacity to push him into his seat, while with a +crutch I made a feint at Samuel that sent him scurrying to his place. +</P> + +<P> +The biggest boy in the school sauntered in. He carefully upset three +dinner pails from the shelves in the rear as he hung up his hat. I +reprimanded him most severely, but I finished my lecture before he had +replaced the cans. Then he shuffled to his place and got out a book as a +sign that school might begin. +</P> + +<P> +Now, I always liked that biggest boy. He knew his position so well. He +knew just how far it was proper for him to go, and never once did he +overstep those bounds. He held the respect and fear of his juniors +without making any open breach with the teacher. But in one way William +Bellus had been peculiarly favored. His predecessors had to deal with +Perry Thomas, and in spite of his gentle ways and intellectual cast, +Perry is active and wiry. He is a blacksmith by trade, and is the +leading tenor in the Methodist choir. This makes a combination that for +staying powers has few equals. My biggest boy's predecessor had been +utterly broken. Even the girls jeered at him until he quit school +entirely. But William had another problem. It was the disappointment of +his life that Perry Thomas retired just as he came into power. He had +declared at a mass-meeting behind the woodshed that it was a gross +injustice on the part of the directors to put a crippled teacher in +charge of the school. Where now was glory to be gained? They would have +a school-ma'am next, like they done up to Popolomus, and none but little +boys, and girls not yet out of plaits, would be so servile as to suffer +such domination. Mark Hope, the soldier, he honored! Mark Hope, the +veteran, he revered! Mark Hope, the teacher, he despised; for his +crutches made him a safe barricade against which no Biggest Boy with a +spark of honor would dare to hurl himself. There might be in the school +boys base enough to charge that he lacked spirit in his attitude of armed +neutrality. Let those traducers step forward, whether they be two or a +dozen. What would follow, the Biggest Boy did not say; but he had pulled +off his coat, and there was none to dispute him. His position was +established. Thereafter he assumed toward me a calm indifference. He +was never openly offensive. He always kept within certain carefully laid +bounds of supercilious politeness. At first he was exasperating, and I +longed to have him forget himself and overstep those bounds, that I might +make up for his disappointment in being cheated out of Perry Thomas. But +he never did. +</P> + +<P> +To-day William Bellus really opened the school, for not till he had +buried his face in his book did the general buzz begin. +</P> + +<P> +That buzz was maddening. For three long hours I had to sit there and +listen to the children as they droned over and over their lessons. Yet +this was my life's work. To my care Six Stars had intrusted her young, +and I should be proud of that trust and earnest in its fulfilment. But +Tim's letter was in my pocket. It was full of the big things of this +life. It told of great struggles for great prizes, and the chalk dust +choked me when I thought of him, and then turned to myself as I stood +there, trying to demonstrate to half a dozen girls and boys that the +total sum of a single column of six figures was twenty-four. Tim had +been promoted and was a full-fledged clerk now. There were many steps +ahead for him, but he was going to climb them rung by rung; and what joy +there is in drawing one's self up by one's own strength! I was at the +top of my ladder—at the very pinnacle of learning in Black Log. Even +now I was unfolding to the marvelling eyes of the children of the valley +the mysteries of that great science, physical geography. I was +explaining to them the trend of the Rockies and the Himalayas, and of +other mountains I should never see; I was telling them why it snowed, and +unfolding the phenomena of the aurora borealis. Alexander with no more +worlds to conquer was a sorry spectacle. We pedagogues who have mastered +physical geography are Alexanders. But if I was bound to the pinnacle of +learning so that I could neither fly nor fall, I could at least watch Tim +as he struggled higher and higher. And Mary was watching with me! That +was what made my work that day seem doubly irksome and the hours trebly +long; for she was waiting to hear from him, and when the sun seemed to +rest on the mill gable I should be free to go to her. So the minutes +dragged. It made me angry. Ordinarily I speak quietly to the scholars, +but now I fairly bellowed at Chester Holmes, who was reading in such a +loud tone that he disturbed me and called me to the real business of the +moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say Dooglas!" I cried. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the way Teacher Thomas used to say it," retorted Chester, sitting +down on the long bench where the Fifth Reader class was posted. +</P> + +<P> +"D-o-u-g—dug—Douglas," I snapped. +</P> + +<P> +"'Douglas round him drew his cloak.' Now, Ira Snarkle, you may read five +lines, beginning with the second stanza." +</P> + +<P> +Ira was very tall for his sixteen years. His clothes had never caught up +to him, for his trousers always failed by two inches to grasp his +shoe-tops, and his coat had a terrible struggle to touch the top of his +trousers. For the shortness of the sleeves he partly compensated with a +pair of bright red worsted wristers. When he bent his elbows the sleeves +flew up his arms, and these wristers became the most conspicuous thing in +his whole attire. +</P> + +<P> +Ira was holding his book in the correct position now, so I saw a length +of bare arms embraced at the wrists by brilliant bands of red. +</P> + +<P> +"'My manors, halls, and bowers shall still be open at my soveryne's +will,'" chanted the boy. +</P> + +<P> +He paused, and to illustrate the imperious humor of the Scot, he waved +his fingers and a red wrister at me. The gesture unnerved him for a +moment, and he had to go thumbing over the page to find his place. He +caught it again and chanted on—"'At my sover-sover-yne's will. To each +one whom he lists, however unmeet to be the owner's peer.'" +</P> + +<P> +Again the boy waved the fingers and the red wrister at me. Again he +paused, gathering himself for the climax. That gesture was abominable, +but at such a time I dared not interrupt. +</P> + +<P> +"'My castles are my king's alone from turret to foundation stone,'" he +cried. The red wrister flashed beneath my eye. Ira had even forgotten +his book and let it fall to his side. He took a step forward; paused +with one knee bent and the other stiff; extended his right arm and +shouted, "'The hand of Dooglas is his own, and never shall in friendly +grasp the hand of sech as Marmyyon clasp.'" +</P> + +<A NAME="img-141"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-141.jpg" ALT=""'At my sover-sover-yne's will.'"" BORDER="2" WIDTH="177" HEIGHT="313"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "'At my sover-sover-yne's will.'"] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Well done, Ira! The proud Marmion must indeed have trembled until his +armor rattled if the Scot bellowed at him in that way and shook a red +wrister so violently under his very nose. Excellent, Ira; you put spirit +in your reading. One can almost picture you beneath Tantallion's towers, +drawing your cloak around you and giving cold respect to the stranger +guest. But why say "Dooglas"? +</P> + +<P> +"S-o-u-p spells soup," answered Ira loftily to my question. "Then +D-o-u-g must spell doog." +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you it's Douglas. 'The hand of Douglas is his own,'" I cried. +At the mention of the doughty Scot I pounded the floor with my crutch and +repeated "Dug—dug—dug." +</P> + +<P> +"But Teacher Thomas allus said Doog," exclaimed Chester Holmes. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care what Teacher Thomas said," I retorted. "You must say +Dug—Dug—Douglas." +</P> + +<P> +"But Teacher Thomas is the best speaker they is," piped in Lulu Ann +Nummler from the end of the bench. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care if Teacher Thomas can recite better than Demosthenes +himself," I snapped. "In this school we say Douglas." My crutch +emphasized this mandate, but I could not see how it was received, for +every scholar's face was hidden from me by a book. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Abraham, six lines." +</P> + +<P> +Abraham Lincoln Spiker was two years younger than Ira Snarkle, but he +seemed much taller and correspondingly thinner. In our valley the boys +have a fashion of being born long, and getting shorter and fatter as they +grow older. Abraham's mother in making his clothes had provided against +the day when he would weigh two hundred pounds, and consequently his +garments hung all around him, giving him an exceedingly dispirited look. +His hair relieved this somewhat, for it was white and always stood gaily +on end, defying brush and comb. Daniel Arker, a sturdy black-haired lad, +would have done fuller justice to the passage that fell to Abraham, for +the Spiker boy with his gentle lisp never shone in elocution; but our +reading class is a lottery, as we go from scholar to scholar down the +line. The lot falling to him, Abraham pushed himself up from the bench, +grasped his book fiercely with both hands, and fixed his eyes intently on +the ceiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on," I commanded kindly. +</P> + +<P> +"'Fierth broke he forth,'" lisped the boy. +</P> + +<P> +"Louder. Put some spirit in it," I cried. "'Fierce broke he forth!'" +And my crutch beat the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"'Fierth broke he forth, and durtht thou then to bared——" +</P> + +<P> +"To beard," I corrected. +</P> + +<P> +"'Bared the lion in hith den—the Doog-dug-lath——'" Abraham stopped +and took a long breath. I just gazed at him. +</P> + +<P> +"'In hith hall,'" he shouted. "'And h-o-p-hop-e-s-t-hopest thou then +unthscathed to go?'" +</P> + +<P> +The boy's knees began to bend under him, and he was reaching a long, thin +arm out behind hunting for the bench. He was fleeing. I knew it. I +warned him. +</P> + +<P> +"No—go on—read on." +</P> + +<P> +Abraham sighed and drew his sleeve across his mouth from the elbow to the +tips of his fingers. Then he sang: +</P> + +<P> +"'Noby—Thent Bride—ofBoth—wellno—updraw—bridgegrooms—whatward—erho +—lettheportculluthfall!'" +</P> + +<P> +Young Spiker collapsed. +</P> + +<P> +"'Lord Marmion turned; well was his need,'" I cried, "if Douglas ever +addressed him in that fashion." +</P> + +<P> +"Now watch me, boys," I added. And with as much fire as I could kindle +in so short a time and under conditions so dampening, I thundered the +resounding lines: "'No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no! Up drawbridge, +grooms—what, warder, ho!'" +</P> + +<P> +"'Let the portcullis fall!'" This last command rang from the back of the +room. Perry Thomas stood there smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't have done it better myself, Mark," he said. "It's a splendid +piece—that Manny-yon—ain't it—grand—noble. I love to say it." +</P> + +<P> +"Teacher Thomas, Teacher Thomas," came in the shrill voice of Chester +Holmes, "ain't it Dooglas?" +</P> + +<P> +Perry was at my side, smiling benignly on the school. He really seemed +to love the scholars; but Perry is a pious man, and seeks to follow the +letter of the Scriptures, and the command is to love our enemies. +</P> + +<P> +"Doogulus—Doogulus," he said. "Of course, boys, it's Doogulus." +</P> + +<P> +The word seemed to taste good, he rolled it over and over so in his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Teacher Hope says you ain't such a fine speaker after all," cried Lulu +Ann Nummler from the distant end of the bench. +</P> + +<P> +She is fifteen and should have known better, but the people of our valley +are dreadfully frank sometimes, and this girl spoke in the clear, sharp +voice of truth that cut through one. Perry turned quick as a flash and +eyed me. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment all I could do was to thump the floor and cry "Order! +Silence! Lulu Ann Nummler, when you want to speak, you must hold up +three fingers." +</P> + +<P> +The three fingers shot up at once and waved at me, but I pretended not to +see them and turned to my guest. +</P> + +<P> +"I said, Perry, that you were not quite so great a speaker as +Demosthenes," I stammered. Chester Holmes had three fingers up and Ira +Snarkle was waving both hands, but I went calmly on: "They were telling +me how beautifully you recited, and I was trying to instil into the piece +a little of your spirit. But now that we have you here, I insist on your +showing me and the school just how it is done." +</P> + +<P> +Perry frowned fiercely on Lulu Ann Nummler, and the three fingers +disappeared. On me he smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a great pleasure to me to be able to recite," he said. "To be able +to repeat great po-ems at will, is to have a treasure you can allus carry +with you while your voice lasts." All this was to the scholars. "There +are three great arts in this world—singin', hand-paintin', and last but +not least, speakin'. I try my hand at all of them except hand-paintin', +and I wish to impress on all you scholars what a joy it is to oneself and +one's friends to have mastered one of these muses. Singin' and speakin' +are closely allied, startin' from the same source. And hand-painting it +allus seemed to me, is really elocution in oils; for a be-yutiful picture +is a silent talker. What suggestions it brings to us as we look upon a +paintin' of a wreath of flowers, or fruit, or a handsome lady! This art +is lastin'. Speakin' and singin' is over as soon as they is done. So I +have often thought that had I only time I'd hand-paint; but bein' a busy +man I've had to content myself with but two of the muses." +</P> + +<P> +Perry paused a moment to rub his hands and smile. I did not miss this +opportunity to break in, for I had no intention of listening to a +dissertation on art as well as to a recitation. +</P> + +<P> +"Now let us have your 'Marmion,'" I said. +</P> + +<P> +He had forgotten all about "Marmion," and came back to the knight with a +start and a cough. Then he gazed long at the floor. The school buzz +died away, and you could hear the ticking of my little clock. Perry +coughed again and I knew that he was started, so I settled down in my +chair and gazed out of the window. +</P> + +<P> +"'But Doogulus round him drew his cloak,'" Perry was buttoning the two +top buttons of his Prince Albert as his voice rang out. "'Folded his +arms and thus he spoke.'" +</P> + +<P> +Annagretta Holmes is only three years old. They send her to school to +keep her warm and out of mischief. She sat on the very front row, right +under Perry's eye. The poor child didn't understand why Teacher Thomas +should stare so at her, and she let out one long, unending bleat. This +gave me a chance to send Lulu Ann Nummler out of the room in charge of +the infant, and I rested easier when Perry drew his Prince Albert around +him once more and spoke. +</P> + +<P> +A grand figure Perry would have made in Tantallion's towers. I forgot +the school, and the village and the valley, as I sat there looking out of +the window into the sky. I am in those towers when Marmion stops to bid +adieu, but in place of the proud Scottish noble, Perry Thomas stands +confronting the English warrior. What a pair they make—the knight armed +cap-a-pie, at his charger's side, and Perry in that close-fitting, shiny +coat that has seen so many great occasions in the valley. There is a +gracious bigness about the Englishman forgetting the cold respect with +which he has been treated and offering a mailed hand in farewell. But +Perry buttons his Prince Albert, waves his brown derby under the very +vizor of the departing guest, rests easily on his right leg, bends the +left knee slightly, folds his arms and speaks. "Burned Marmion's swarthy +cheek like fire." Little wonder! If Perry Thomas spoke to me like that +I'd cleave his head. But Marmion spares proud Angus. He beards the +Doogulus in his hall. He dashes the rowels in his steed, dodges the +portcullis, and gallops over the draw. And Perry Thomas is left standing +with folded arms, gazing through the chalk-dust haze into the solemn, +wide open eyes of the children of Six Stars. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-148"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-148.jpg" ALT="Perry Thomas stands confronting the English warrior." BORDER="2" WIDTH="177" HEIGHT="429"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Perry Thomas stands confronting the English warrior.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IX +</H3> + + +<P> +Perry's head was close to mine, over my table. The school was studying +louder than ever, and our voices could not have gone beyond the +platform; but my friend was cautious. The scholars might well have +thought that the whispered conference boded them ill; that the new +teacher and the old teacher were hatching some conspiracy against them. +It must have looked like it. Perry's elbows were on the table, and my +elbows were on the table. My chin rested in my hands, but his hands +were waving beneath my chin as he unfolded to me the plot he had just +discovered against his hopes and his happiness. But the school was +good. The second grammar class had been relieved from a recitation by +this confab, and somehow Perry had a subduing influence. Even the +Biggest Boy opened his desk quietly and never once looked up from his +geography except for a cautious glance out of the corner of his left +eye. +</P> + +<P> +"There was a pile of 'em that high, Mark," said Perry, waving his hands +about a foot above the table. "There was some books of po-ems and +novels and such. He'd sent them all to her in one batch—all new, mind +ye, too—and it pleased her most to death. Well, it made me feel flat, +I tell you—so flat that when she asked me if I didn't think it was +lovely of him, I burst right out and said it was really. What I should +'a' done was kind of pass it off as if it didn't amount to much." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is the young woman?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't mentionin' names," Perry replied, "and I ain't givin' the name +of the other man; but I have an idee you could guess if you kep' at it." +</P> + +<P> +Our valley does not bloom with beautiful young women. We always have a +few, but those few can be counted on one's fingers. Our valley does +not number among its men many who can supplement their sentimental +attentions with gifts of books. I knew of one. So it did not require +much guessing on my part to divine the cause of Perry's heart-sickness; +but as long as the other persons in his drama were anonymities, he +would speak freely, so I relieved him by declaring solemnly that never +in the world could I guess. I had always supposed him a lover of all +women, a slave of none. +</P> + +<P> +Perry smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"I have kep' a good deal of company," he said. "On account of my +fiddlin', and singin', and recitin' I've always had things pretty much +my own way. It's opposition that's ruination. That's what shatters a +man's heart and takes all his sperrit. As long as the game's between +just a man and a girl there's nothin' very serious. One or the other +loses, and you can begin a new game somewheres else. But when two men +and one girl get a playin' three handed, then it is serious; then it's +desperate. A man has to th'ow his whole heart and mind into it, if +he'd whip, and he gets so worked up he thinks his whole happiness to +the end of time depends on his drivin' the other fellow to drownin' +himself in the mill-dam." +</P> + +<P> +"In other words, if you had not found another laying piles of books and +such gifts at the feet of this fair one, whose name I can never guess, +you would have fiddled to her and sung to her and recited to her until +she said 'I love you.' Then you would have sought new heavens to +conquer." +</P> + +<P> +"That's about it," said Perry, smiling feebly. His face brightened. +"You know how it is yourself, Mark. Mind how you kep' company once +with Emily Holmes and nothin' come of it. She went off to normal +school in desperation—you mind that, don't ye?—and she married a +school-teacher from Snyder County—you mind that, don't ye? Now +supposin' you and that Snyder County chap had been opposin' one another +instead of you and Emily Holmes—I allow her name would have been +changed to Emily Hope long ago, or you'd 'a' drownded yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"But I never had any intention of marrying Emily Holmes," I protested. +</P> + +<P> +"I know you didn't," Perry replied, thumping the table in triumph. +"That's just the pint. If the world was popilated by one man and one +woman, they'd be a bachelor and an old maid. If there was two men and +one woman, then one of the men would marry the old maid sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Your meaning is more clear," I said. +</P> + +<P> +Though Perry did not know it, I was meeting the same opposition that so +aroused his ire. In part there was truth in what he said, for while +opposition does not increase one's love, it surely quickens it. I +doubt if I should have been making a journey nightly up the hill if I +had not expected to find Weston there. Of Perry I had no fear, and it +was not egotism in me to be indifferent to him. He lives so far down +the valley. It's a long walk from Buzzards Glory to Six Stars, and the +road has many chuck-holes. Perry is our man-about-the-valley <I>par +excellence</I>, but he is discreet, so it had chanced we met but once at +Warden's, and that was on the night when we heard the story of Flora +Martin and the famine in India. He knew me still as a friend, and not +regarding him as a rival, I treated him as a companion in arms. To be +sure, I could not see where he could be of much assistance; but we had +a common aim and a common foe. That made a bond between us. With that +common foe disposed of, the bond might snap. Till then I was Perry's +friend. +</P> + +<P> +"I agree with you partly," I said. "Still, it seems to me a man should +love a woman for herself—wholly, entirely for herself, and not because +some other fellow has set his heart on her." +</P> + +<P> +"You are right there, in part," Perry answered. "I have set my heart +on a particular young lady, but the fact that another—a lean, +cadaverous fellow with red whiskers and no particular looks or +brains—is slowly pushing himself between us makes it worse. It +aggravates me; it affects my appetite." Perry smiled grimly. "It +drives away sleep. You know how it 'ud have been if that Snyder County +teacher had been livin' in Six Stars when you was keepin' company with +Emily Holmes." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know how it would have been at all," I retorted hotly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, s'posin' when you'd walked four miles to set up with her, and +thought you had her all to yourself, s'pose this Snyder County teacher +with red whiskers, and little twinklin' eyes, and new clothes, come +strollin' in, and stretched out in a chair like he owned her, and begin +tellin' about all the countries he'd seen—about England and Rome, Injy +and Africa—and she leaned for'a'd and looked up into his eyes and just +listened to him talk, drank it all in like—s'pose all that, and then +s'pose——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll suppose anything you like," said I, "except that I am in love +with Emily Holmes and that the Snyder County teacher is cutting me out. +For example, let us put me in your place. I am enamored of this fair +unknown—of course I can't guess her name—and this second man, also +unknown—he of the red whiskers, is my rival. Let us suppose it that +way." +</P> + +<P> +"If you insist," Perry replied. "Well then, you are settin' up with +her. You've invited her to be your lady at the next spellin' bee +between Six Stars and Turkey Walley, and she has said she'll think +about it. Then you've told her that there is something wrong with you. +You don't know what it is, 'ceptin' you feel all peekit like for no +special reason; you can't eat no more, and sleep poorly and has sighin' +spells. Then she kind of peeks at you outen the corner of her eye and +smiles. S'posin' just then in comes this man and bows most polite, and +tells you he is so delighted to see you, and makes her move from the +settee where you are, to a rocker close to him; and leans over her and +asks about the health of all the family as if they was his nearest and +dearest; inquires about her dog; tells her she looks just like the +portrates of his great-grandma. S'posin' she just kind of looks at the +floor quiet-like or else up to him—you'll begin to think you ain't +there at all, won't you? Then you'll concide that you are there but +you oughtn't to be, and kind of slide out without your hat and forget +your fiddle. I tell you, Mark, it's then love becomes a consumin' +fire." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-159"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-159.jpg" ALT=""You'll begin to think you ain't there at all."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="493" HEIGHT="389"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "You'll begin to think you ain't there at all."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Perry looked at me appealingly. Men hesitate to speak of love—except +to women. He had already shown a frankness that was surprising, but +then with a certain deftness he had placed me in the position of the +sentimental one with a problem to solve. He was seeking for himself a +solution of that problem, and was appealing to me to help him. +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose again," said I, "that going another day to see the girl, I +found her poring over a pile of books—all new books—just given her by +this same arrogant interloper." Perry was silent, but when I paused +and looked at him, I saw in his face that I was arguing along the right +line. "Then the question arises, what shall I do?" +</P> + +<P> +Perry nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"What would you do?" he said. "That's it exact." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd meet him at his own game," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +"With what?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"With what?" I repeated. +</P> + +<P> +There was the rub! With what? I sat with my head clasped between my +hands trying to answer him. +</P> + +<P> +"With what?" I repeated, after a long silence. +</P> + +<P> +"S'posin' I got her a wreath." Perry offered the suggestion, and in +his enthusiasm he forgot that in our premise I was the person +concerned; but I was not loath to let him take on himself the burden of +our perplexity. +</P> + +<P> +"Is she dead?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I needn't get one of that kind," he solemnly replied. "Somethin' in +autumn leaves ought to be nice." +</P> + +<P> +"You might do better." +</P> + +<P> +"A hand-paintin', then," he ventured timidly. +</P> + +<P> +I smiled on this with more approval. +</P> + +<P> +"They have some be-yutiful ones at Hopedale," he said with more heart. +"The last time I was down I was lookin' at 'em. They've fine gold +frames and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Why send her a picture of a tree when the finest oak in the valley is +at her door?" I protested. "Why send her a picture of a slate-colored +cow when a herd of Durhams pastures every day right under her eye?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's true," Perry answered. "Hand-paintin's is meant for city +folks. But what can a fellow get? A statue!" His eyes brightened. +"That's just the thing—a statue of Washington or Lincoln or General +Grant—how's that for an idee, Mark?" +</P> + +<P> +"Excellent, if you are trying to make an impression on her uncle," I +answered. +</P> + +<P> +Perry shook his hands despairingly. +</P> + +<P> +"You have come to a poor person at such business, Perry," said I. +"What little I know of courting I have from books, and it seems to me +that the usual thing is flowers—violets—roses." +</P> + +<P> +My friend straightened up in his chair and gazed at me very long and +hard. From me his eyes wandered to the calendar that hung behind my +desk. +</P> + +<P> +"November—November," he muttered. "A touch of snow too—and violets +and roses." +</P> + +<P> +He leaned toward me fiercely. "Violets come in May," he said. "This +here is a matter of weeks." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm serious, Perry," said I. "Books are the thing, and flowers; not +wreaths and statues and paintings. You must send something that +carries some sentiment with it." +</P> + +<P> +He saw that I was in earnest, and his countenance became brighter. +</P> + +<P> +"Geraniums," he muttered; thumping the table. "I'll get Mrs. Arker to +let me have one of them window-plants of hers, and I'll put it in a new +tomato-can and paint it. How's that for a starter?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've never read about men sending geraniums," I replied. "It's odd, +but I never have. I suppose the can makes them seem a little +unwieldly. Still——" +</P> + +<P> +"I had thought of forty-graph album." Perry spoke timidly again. +</P> + +<P> +I had no mind to let him venture any more suggestions. His was too +fickle a fancy, and I had settled on an easy solution of the problem. +He was to send her a geranium. Somehow, I knew deep down in my own +heart, ill versed as I was in such things, that I should never send her +such a gift myself. I would climb to the top of Gander Knob for a wild +rose or rhododendron; I would stir the leaves from the gap to the river +in search of a simple spray of arbutus for her. But step before her +with my arms clasping a tin can with a geranium plant r Heaven forbid! +Perry was different. The suggestion pleased him. He was rubbing his +hands and smiling in great contentment. +</P> + +<P> +"I might send a po-em with it," he said. "I've allus found that poetry +kind of catches ahold of a girl when you are away. It keeps you in her +mind. It must be sing-song, though, kind of gettin' into her head like +quinine. It must keep time with the splashin' of the churn and the +howlin' of the wind. I mind when I was keepin' company with Rhoda +Spiker—she afterward married Ulysses G. Harmon, of Hopedale—I sent +her a po-em that run somethin' like this: 'I live, I love, my Life, my +Light; long love I thou, Sweetheart so bright'——" +</P> + +<P> +Perry's po-em never got into my brain, for as he repeated the +captivating lines, I was gazing over his shoulder, out of the window, +down the road to the village. I saw a girl on the store porch, +standing by the door a moment as if undecided which way to go. Then +she turned her head into the November gale and came rapidly up the +road. In a minute more she would be passing the school-house door. +Tim's letter was in my pocket and the sun was still high over the gable +of the mill. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-165"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-165.jpg" ALT="I saw a girl on the store porch." BORDER="2" WIDTH="354" HEIGHT="589"> +<H4> +[Illustration: I saw a girl on the store porch.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Rhoda sent me a postal asking me to write her a po-em full of Ks or Xs +or Ws, just so as she could get the Ls out of her head, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Perry!" I broke right into his story and seized the lapel of his +waistcoat as though he were my dearest friend. "My girl is going by +the school-house door this very minute. Now you help me. Take the +school for the rest of the afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"Your girl?" cried Perry. His voice broke from the smothered +conference tone and the school heard it and tittered. He recovered +himself and poked me in the chest. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" he said, "Widow Spoonholler—I seen you last Sunday singin' often +the same book—I seen you. Hurry, Mark, hurry; and luck to you! +You've done me most a mighty good turn." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +X +</H3> + + +<P> +Mary sat knitting. Beware of a woman who knits. The keenest lawyer in +our county is not so clever a cross-examiner as his sister when she +sits with her needles and yarn. Questions directed at one can be +parried. You expect them and dodge. The woman knits and knits, and +lulls you half to sleep, and then in a far-away voice asks questions. +They come as a boon, a gracious acknowledgment that you exist, and +though in her mind your place is secondary to the flying needles and +the tangled worsted, still you are there and she is half listening to +what you have to say. So you tell her twice as much as is wise. You +have no interest for her. Her eyes are fixed on her work. She asks +you the secret of your life, and then bends farther over, seeming to +forget your existence. Desperate, you shout it at her, and she looks +up and smiles, a wondering, distraught smile; then goes on knitting. +</P> + +<P> +There were some things in Tim's letter that I did not intend to tell +Mary. He had written to me in confidence. A man does not mind letting +one of his fellows know that he is in love with a woman, but to let a +woman know it is different. She will think him a fool, unless she is +his inspiration. I knew Tim. I knew that he was no fool, and I did +not wish her to get such an impression. I loved a pretty woman. So +did Tim. But Mary would not understand it in Tim's case. That was why +I folded the letter when I had read the first four pages. +</P> + +<P> +But Mary was knitting. "It is fine to think he is getting along so +well," she said. +</P> + +<P> +She looked up, but not at me. Her face was turned to the window; her +eyes were over the valley which was growing gray, for the sun was down. +What she saw there I could not tell. A drearier sight is hard to find +than our valley when the chill of the November evening is creeping over +it as the fire in the west goes out. Night covers it, and it sleeps. +But the winter twilight raises up its shadows. In the darkness all is +hidden. In the half-light there is utter loneliness. +</P> + +<P> +I turned from the window to the letter, and Mary looked at me for the +first time in many minutes. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to read the rest of the letter?" she demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"You have heard 'most all of it," I replied evasively. +</P> + +<P> +"And the rest?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Is of no interest," I answered. "It's just a few personal, +confidential things. Perhaps some time I can tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," she exclaimed carelessly, and went on knitting, drawing closer to +the lamplight. +</P> + +<P> +"How long is it since he left?" she asked at last, reaching down to +untangle the worsted from the end of the rocker. +</P> + +<P> +"Six weeks," said I. "It's just six weeks coming to-morrow since Tim +and I parted at Pleasantville. To think he has been promoted already! +At that rate he should be head of the firm in a year or two." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Weston has been very kind," said she. "Of course he has seen that +Tim had every chance. He is the most thoughtful man I ever knew. +He——" +</P> + +<P> +Weston's excellent qualities were well known to me. I had discovered +them long ago, and I did not care to hear Mary descant on them at +length. He had done much for Tim, but it was what Tim had done for +himself that I was proud of, so I interrupted her rather rudely. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he got Tim his place; but you must remember Mr. Weston has hardly +been in New York a day since the boy left. He doesn't bother much +about business, so, after all, Tim is working his way alone." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Mary. She had missed a stitch somewhere, and it irritated +her greatly. That was evident by the way she picked at it. She +remedied the trouble somehow, recovered her composure, and went on +knitting. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it eight dollars he is making, did you say?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, eight," I replied, verifying the figure with a glance at the +letter. +</P> + +<P> +"A week or a month?" +</P> + +<P> +"A week. Just think of it—that is more than I got in the army." +</P> + +<P> +But Mary was not a bit impressed. I remembered that she came from +Kansas, and in Kansas a dollar is not so big as in our valley. +</P> + +<P> +"Living is so expensive in the city," she said absently. "With eight +dollars a week here Tim would be a millionaire. But in New York—" A +shrug of the shoulder expressed her meaning. +</P> + +<P> +"True," said I, a bit ruefully. +</P> + +<P> +I had expected her to clasp her hands, to look up at me and listen to +my stories of Tim's success, and hear my dreams for his future. +Instead, she went on knitting, never once raising her eyes to me. It +exasperated me. In sheer chagrin I took to silence and smoking. But +she would not let me rest long this way, though I was slowly lulling +myself into a state of semi-coma, of indifference to her and calm +disdain. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course Tim has made some friends," she said, glancing up from her +work very casually. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course he has," I snapped. +</P> + +<P> +"That's nice," she murmured—knitting, knitting, knitting. +</P> + +<P> +I expected her to ask who his friends were, and how he had made them. +That was all in the letter. Moreover, it was in the part I had not +read to her. But she abruptly abandoned this line of inquiry. She did +not care. She let me smoke on. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she dropped her work and asked, "Is that a footstep on the +porch?" +</P> + +<P> +"Footsteps! No—why, who did you think was coming?" I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Weston promised to drop in on his way home from hunting—but I +guess he'll disappoint me. I hoped it was he." She fell to her task +again, only now she began to hum softly, thus shutting me off entirely. +</P> + +<P> +For a very long while I endured it, but the time came when action of +some kind was called for. We were not married, that I could sit +forever smoking while she hummed. Even in Black Log, etiquette +requires that a man talk to a woman when in her company; and when the +woman ceases to listen, the wise man departs. That was just what I did +not want to do, and only one alternative was left me. I got out the +letter and held it under the light. +</P> + +<P> +"You were asking about Tim's friends, Mary," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Was I?" she returned. "I had forgotten. What did I say?" +</P> + +<P> +"You asked if he had made any friends," I replied, as calmly as I +could. "I was going to read you what he said." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" she cried. And at last she dropped her knitting, and resting her +elbows on her knees, clasping her chin in her hands, she looked up at +me from her low chair. "I thought it was forbidden," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Tim didn't say anything about not reading it," I answered. "At first, +though, it seemed best not to; but you'll understand, Mary. Of course, +we mustn't take him too seriously, but it does sound foolish. Poor +Tim!" +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Tim!" repeated the girl. "He must be in love." +</P> + +<P> +"He is," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Then don't read it!" she cried. "Surely he never intended you to read +it to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course he did," I laughed, for at last I had aroused her, and now +her infernal knitting was forgotten; she no longer strained her ears +for Weston's footfalls. Her eyes were fixed on me. "Poor old Tim! +Well, let's wish him luck, Mary. Now listen." +</P> + +<P> +So I read her the forbidden pages. +</P> + +<P> +"'You should see Edith Parker, Mark. She is so different from the +girls of Black Log. Her father is head book-keeper in the store, and +he has been very good to me. Last week he took me home to dinner with +him. He has a nice house in Brooklyn. His wife is dead, and he has +just his daughter. We have no women in Black Log that compare to her. +She is tall and slender and has fair hair and blue eyes.'" +</P> + +<P> +"I hate fair-haired women," broke in Mary with some asperity. "They +are so vain." +</P> + +<P> +"I agree with you," said I. "That is invariably the case, and dark +hair is so much more beautiful; but we must make allowance for Tim. +Let us see—'fair hair and blue eyes and the sweetest face'—I do +believe that brother of mine is out of his head to write such stuff." +</P> + +<P> +"He certainly is," said Mary, very quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Tim! But go on." +</P> + +<P> +"'We played cards together for a while, till old Mr. Parker went asleep +in his chair, and then Edith and I had a chance to talk. You know, +Mark, I've always been a bit afraid of women, and awkward and ill at +ease around them. But Edith is different from the girls of Black Log. +We were friends in a minute. You don't know what it is to talk to +these girls who have been everywhere, and seen everything, and know +everything. They are so much above you, they inspire you. For a girl +like that no sacrifice a man can make is too great. To win a girl like +that a man must do something and be something. Now up in Black +Log——'" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, up in Black Log the women are different," said Mary in a quiet +voice. "They have to work in Black Log, and it's the men they work +for. If they sat on thrones and talked wisdom and looked beautiful, +the kitchen-fires would die out and the children go naked." +</P> + +<P> +"Tim doesn't say anything disparaging to the people of our valley," I +protested. "He says, 'in Black Log the girls don't understand how to +dress. They deck themselves out in gaudy finery. Now Edith wears the +simplest things. You never notice her gown. You only see her figure +and her face.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Do I deck myself out in gaudy finery, Mark?" Mary's appeal was direct +and simple. +</P> + +<P> +A shake of the head was my only answer. I wanted to tell her that Tim +was blind. I wanted to tell her the boy was a fool; that Edith, the +tall, thin, pale creature, was not to be compared to one woman in our +valley; that I know who that woman was; that I loved her. I would have +told her this. With a sudden impulse I leaned toward her. As suddenly +I fell back. My crutches had clattered to the floor! +</P> + +<P> +A battered veteran! A pensioner! A back-woods pedagogue! That I was. +That I must be to the end. My place was in the school-house. My place +was on the store bench, set away there with a lot of other broken +antiquities. That I should ask a woman to link her life with mine, was +absurd. A fair ship on a fair sea soon parts company with a +derelict—unless it tows it. A score of times I had fought this out, +and as often I had found but one course and had set myself to follow +it, but there was that in Mary's quiet eyes that shook my resolution. +There was an appeal there, and trust. +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad, anyway, I am not so much above you, Mark," she said, now +laughing. +</P> + +<P> +I gathered up my crutches and the letter. I gathered up my wits again. +</P> + +<P> +"There's where I feel like Tim, indeed," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think I should like this lofty Edith," the girl exclaimed. +"What a pompous word it is—Edith! Tim is ambitious. I suppose he +rolls that name over and over in his mind." +</P> + +<P> +It seemed that Mary was unnecessarily sharp toward a young woman she +had never seen and of whom she had as yet heard nothing but good. +While for myself I felt a certain resentment at Tim for his praise of +this girl and the condescending references to my misfortune in never +having seen her like, I had for him a certain keen sympathy and hope +for his success. I had a certain sympathy for Edith, too, for a man in +love, if unrestrained in his praise, will make a plain, sensible, +motherly girl look like a frivolous fool. Perhaps in this case Edith +was the victim. I suggested this to Mary, and she laughed softly. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps so," she said. "But I must admit it irritates me to see our +Tim lose his head over a stranger. I can only picture her as he +does—a superior being, who lives in Brooklyn, whose name is Edith, and +who wears her hair in a small knot on top of her head. Can you +conceive her smile, Mark, if she saw us now—if this fine Brooklyn girl +with her city ways dropped down here in Black Log?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's all in Tim's letter," I cried. "Listen. 'She asked all about +my home and you. I told her of the place and of all the people, of +Mary and Captain. Last night I took over that picture of you in your +uniform, and I won't tell you all the nice things she said about you, +and——'" +</P> + +<P> +"She's a flatterer," cried Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"I am beginning to love her myself," said I. "But listen to Tim. 'She +told me she hoped to see Black Log some day, and to meet the soldier of +the valley. I said that I hoped she would, too, but I didn't tell her +that a hundred times a day, as I worked over the books in the office, I +vowed that soon I'd take her there myself.'" +</P> + +<P> +"As Mrs. Tim," Mary added, for I was folding up the letter. +</P> + +<P> +"As Mrs. Tim, evidently," said I. "Poor old Tim! It's a very bad +case." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor old Tim!" said Mary. +</P> + +<P> +She took up her needles and her work, and fell to knitting. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose they must be very rich—the Parkers, I mean." This was +offered as a wedge to break the silence, for the needles were going +very rapidly now, and the stitches seemed to call for the closest +watching. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Mary. +</P> + +<P> +I lighted my pipe again. +</P> + +<P> +"What a grand man Tim will be when he comes back home." I suggested +this after a long silence. "He'll look fine in his city clothes, for +somehow those city men do dress differently from us country chaps. Now +just picture Tim in a—in a——" +</P> + +<P> +Mary was humming softly to herself. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XI +</H3> + + +<P> +The county paper always comes on Thursday. This was Thursday. Elmer +Spiker sat behind the stove, in a secluded corner, the light of the +lamp on the counter falling over his left shoulder on the leading +column of locals. Elmer was reading. There was a store rule +forbidding him to read aloud, which caused him much hardship, for as he +worked his way slowly down the column, his right eye and left ear kept +twitching and twitching as though trying to keep time with his lips. +</P> + +<P> +Josiah Nummler's long pole rested on the counter at his side, and his +great red hands were spread out to drink in the heat from the glowing +bowl of the stove. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a-blowin' up most a-mighty, ain't it?" he said, cheerfully. "Any +news, Elmer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh now, go home," grunted Mr. Spiker, rolling his pipe around so the +burning tobacco scattered over his knees. "See what you've done!" he +snapped angrily, brushing away the sparks. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't notice you was in the middle of a word, Elmer, really I +didn't," pleaded old Mr. Nummler. +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't in the middle of a word," retorted Elmer, as he drove his +little finger into his pipe in an effort to save some of the tobacco. +"I was just beginnin' a new piece. Things is gittin' so there ain't a +place left in this town for a man to read in peace and comfort. Here I +am, tryin' to post up on the local doin's, on polytics and religion, +and ringin' in my ears all the time is 'lickin' the teacher, lickin' +the teacher, lickin' the teacher.' S'pose every man here did lick the +teacher in his time—what of it, I says, what of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, what of it?" said I, closing the door with a bang. +</P> + +<P> +I was plodding home from Mary's. She had hummed me out at last, and I +had tucked Tim's letter in my pocket and hobbled back to the village. +The light in the store had drawn me aside and I stopped a moment just +to look in. The store is always a fascinating place. There is always +something doing there, and I opened the door a crack to hear what was +under discussion. Catching the same refrain that troubled Elmer +Spiker, I entered. +</P> + +<P> +"What of it?" I demanded, facing the company. "I don't believe there +is a man here who ever thrashed the teacher." +</P> + +<P> +Theophilus Jones raised himself from the counter on which he was +leaning, and waved a lighted candle above his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Here comes the teacher—make way for the teacher!" +</P> + +<P> +Josiah Nummler pounded the floor with his long pole. +</P> + +<P> +"See the conquerin' hero comes," he cried. "A place for him—a place +for him!" And with the point of his stick he drove the six men on the +bench so close together as to give me an excellent seat. +</P> + +<P> +"Thrice welcome, noble he-ro, as Perry Thomas says!" shouted Aaron +Kallaberger, thrusting his hand into his bosom in excellent imitation +of the orator. +</P> + +<P> +"He's lookin' pretty spry yet, ain't he, boys?" said Isaac Bolum. He +stood before me, leaning over till his hands clasped his knees, and +peered into my face, smiling. "The teacher ain't changed a bit." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you for the reception," said I. "But explain. What's this all +about?" +</P> + +<P> +Elmer Spiker folded the county paper and came around to our side of the +stove. There he struck his favorite attitude, which was always made +most effective by the endless operation of putting his spectacles in +their case—pulling them out—waving them—<I>ad infinitum</I>. For in our +valley spectacles are the sceptre of the sovereign intellect. +</P> + +<P> +"They was talkin' about lickin' the teacher," Elmer said, "and sech +talkin' I never heard. It was the nonsensicalest yet. The way them +boys was tellin' about the teachers they had knowed made me feel for +your life when I seen you come in. I thought they'd fall on you like +so many wolves." +</P> + +<P> +"Now see here, Elmer Spiker," shouted Henry Holmes, "that's an +injestice. I never said I'd licked the teacher when I was a boy. I +only said I'd tried it." +</P> + +<P> +"You give me to understand that the teacher was dead now," returned +Elmer severely. +</P> + +<P> +"He is," cried Henry. +</P> + +<P> +"And you claim you done it." +</P> + +<P> +"I done it," shouted Mr. Holmes, pounding the floor with his cane. "I +done it! You think I'm a murderer? Why, old Gilbert Spoonholler was +ninety-seven year old when he went away. He was only forty when him +and me had it out." +</P> + +<P> +"That's different," said Elmer calmly. "I understood from your +original account that he died in battle." +</P> + +<P> +"I tho't so too, Henery," put in Isaac Bolum. "You misled me, +complete. 'Here,' says I, 'at last I have met a man who has licked the +teacher.' And all the time you was tellin' about it, we was admirin' +you—Joe Nummler and me—and now we finds Gil Spoonholler lived +fifty-seven year after that terrible struggle." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't just fetch my memory back to that particular incident, +Henery," said Josiah, "but my recollection is that Gil Spoonholler held +the school-house agin all comers, and that's sayin' a good deal, for we +was tough as hickory when we was young." +</P> + +<P> +"The modern boys is soft," Aaron Kallaberger declared. "They regards +the teacher in a friendlier light than they used to. They are +weakenin'. The military sperrit's dyin' out. The spectacle is +conquerin' the sword." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-187"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-187.jpg" ALT="Aaron Kallaberger." BORDER="2" WIDTH="130" HEIGHT="366"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Aaron Kallaberger.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +This was too direct a slap at Elmer Spiker to pass unnoticed; Elmer was +too old an arguer to use any ponderous weapon in return. He even +smiled as he punctuated his sentences with his battered spectacle-case. +</P> + +<P> +"You never said a truer word, Aaron. It allus was true. It allus will +be true. It's just as true to-day as when Henery Holmes tackled old +Gilbert Spoonholler, as when Isaac Bolum yander argyed with Luke +Lampson that five times eleven was forty-five; as when you refused to +admit to the same kind teacher that Harrisburg was the capital of +Pennsylwany." +</P> + +<P> +"And as to-day when William Belkis—" Theophilus Jones was acting +strangely. He was bowing politely at me. +</P> + +<P> +I was mystified. Why at a time like this I should be treated as a +subject of so much distinction was a puzzle, and I was about to demand +an explanation, when Josiah Nummler interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"It's true," he said. "Teachers ain't changed and the boys ain't +changed. I'm eighty year old within a week, and all my life I've heard +boys blowin' about how they was goin' to lick the teacher, and I've +heard old men tell how they done it years and years before—but I've +never seen an eye-witness—what I wants is an eye-witness." +</P> + +<P> +"You've been talkin' to Elmer Spiker," said Henry Holmes, plaintively. +"He's convinced you. He'd convince anybody of anything. He's got me +so dad-twisted I can't mind no more whether I went to school even." +</P> + +<P> +"You never showed no signs, Henery." Isaac Bolum spoke very quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you otter know it as well as anybody," Henry retorted angrily. +"Your ma was allus askin' me to take care of you, and you was a +nuisance, too, you was, Isaac. You was allus a-blubberin' and +a-swallerin' somethin'. You mind the time you swallered my copper +cent, don't you? You mind the fuss your ma made to my ma about it, +don't you? Why, she formulated regular charges that I 'tempted to +pizon you—she did, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't rake up them old, old sores," said Josiah Nummler soothingly, +"Ike'll give you back your copper cent, Henery." +</P> + +<P> +"All Ike's property to-day ain't as val'able to me now as that cent was +then," Mr. Holmes answered solemnly. "It was the val'ablest cent I +ever owned. I never expect to have another I'd hate so to see +palpitatin' in Isaac Bolum's th'oat between his Adam's apple and his +collar-band." +</P> + +<P> +"We're gittin' away from the subject," said Josiah. "You're draggin' +up a personal quarrel between you and Isaac Bolum, when we was +discussin' the great problem that confronts every scholar in his +day—that of thrashin' the teacher." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a problem no scholar ever solved in the history of this walley, +anyway," declared Elmer Spiker. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't on the records," said Kallaberger. +</P> + +<P> +"There are le-gends," Isaac Bolum said. He pointed at Henry Holmes +with his thumb. "Sech as his." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Josiah Nummler, "we have sech le-gends, comin' mostly from +the Indians and Henery Holmes. But there's one I got from my pap when +I was a boy, and I allus thought it one of the most be-yutiful fairy +stories I ever heard—of course exceptin' them in the Bible. It was +about Six Stars school, here, and the boy's name was Ernest, and the +teacher's Leander. It was told to my pap by his pap, so you can see +that as a le-gend it was older than them of Henery Holmes." +</P> + +<P> +"It certainly sounds more interestin'," exclaimed Isaac Bolum. +</P> + +<P> +Old Mr. Holmes started to protest, but Aaron Kallaberger quieted him +with an offering of tobacco. By the time his pipe was going, Josiah +was well into his story. +</P> + +<P> +"Of all the teachers that ever tot in Six Stars this here Leander was +the most fe-rocious. He was six foot two inches tall in his stockin's, +and weighed no more than one hundred and thirty pound, stripped, but he +was wiry. His arms was like long bands of iron. His legs was like +hickory saplin's, and when he wasn't usin' them he allus kept them +wound round the chair, so as to unspring 'em at a moment's notice and +send himself flyin' at the darin' scholar. His face was white and all +hung with hanks of black hair; his eyes was one minute like still +intellectual pools and the next like burnin' coals of fire—that was my +pap's way of puttin' it. Ernest was just his opposite. He was a +chunky boy with white hair and pale eyes. He was a nice boy when let +alone, but in the whole fifteen years of his life he'd never had no +call to bound Kansas or tell the capital of Californy outside of school +hours, so he regarded Leander with a fierce and childlike hatred. But +Ernest had a noble streak in him, too. For himself he would 'a' +suffered in silence. It was the constant oppression of the helpless +little ones that saddened him. It was maddenin' to have to sit silent +every day while tiny girls, no older than ten, was being hounded from +one end of the g'ography to the other. He seen small boys, shavers +under eight, scratchin' holes in their heads with slate-pencils, tryin' +to make out why two and two was four; he seen girls, be-yutiful young +girls of his own age, drove almost to distraction by black-boards full +of diagrams from the grammar-book. And allus before him, the inspirin' +note of the whole systematic system of torturin' the young, was the +rod; broodin' over it all, like a black cloud, was Leander's +repytation, was the memory of the boys as had gone before. For years +Ernest bore all this. Then come a time when he was called to a +position of responsibility in the school. One after another, the +biggest boys had fallen. A few had gradyeated. Others had argyed with +the teacher and become as broken reeds, was stedyin' regular and bein' +polite like. In them years, whether he wanted it or not, Ernest had +rose up. His repytation was spotless. His age entitled him to the +Fifth Reader class, but he was still spellin' out words in the Third; +fractions was only a dream to him, and he couldn't 'a' told you the +difference between a noun and a wild carrot. But through it all he'd +been so humble and polite that Leander looked on him as a kind of +half-witted lamb." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-191"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-191.jpg" ALT="Leander." BORDER="2" WIDTH="179" HEIGHT="366"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Leander.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"This here is the longest fairy story I ever heard tell of," said Elmer +Spiker, "We haven't even had a sign of the prin-cess." +</P> + +<P> +"And there is a prin-cess in this here le-gend," returned Josiah. "She +was a be-yutiful one, too. Her name was Pinky Binn, a dotter of the +house of Binn, the Binns of Turkey Walley. She had the reddish hair of +the Binns and the pearl-blue eyes of the Rummelsbergers from over the +mountains. Her ma was a Rummelsberger. She wasn't too spare, nor was +she too fleshy; she was just rounded right; and when she smiled—ah, +boys, when Pinky Binn smiled at Ernest from behind her g'ography his +heart went like its spring had broke. Yet he never showed it. It +would have been ruination for him to let it be known by sign or act +that Pinky Binn was other than the general class of weemen; for is +there anything worse than weemen in general? It's the exceptions, +allus the exceptions, raises trouble with a man. Pinky Binn was +Ernest's exception. But the time of his great trial come, and he was +true. He stepped forth in his right light before all the school; he +showed himself what he was—the gentle lover, the masterful fighter, +the heroic-est scholar Six Stars school had ever seen." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-193"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-193.jpg" ALT=""Her name was Pinky Binn, a dotter of the house of Binn, the Binns of Turkey Walley."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="504" HEIGHT="395"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "Her name was Pinky Binn, a dotter of the house of Binn, the Binns of Turkey Walley."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"He whipped the teacher, I know," cried Henry Holmes. "I told you, +Ike—he licked the teacher." +</P> + +<P> +"This here is a fairy story, Henery," returned Isaac reprovingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Even in a fairy story it 'ud be ridiculous to let a boy of fifteen +beat a trained teacher," said Josiah Nummler. "He didn't quite, and it +come this way. Leander asked Pinky Binn if he had eleven apples and +multiplied them by five how many was they left. She says sixty-five. +'Figure it out agin,' he says, wery stern. So she works her fingers +and her lips a-while, like she was deef and dumb. 'Five-timsone is +five,' she says, 'and five-timsone agin is five and one to carry is +six—sixty-five,' she says. 'Well, I'll be Scotch-Irished,' says +Leander gittin' wery angry. 'Sech obtusety' (Leander allus used fancy +words) 'is worthy of Ernest yander.' He pinted his long finger at +Ernest and says, 'How much is five times eleven apples? Ernest gits up +and faces the teacher, wery ca'am and wery quiet. 'Sixty-five,' says +he. 'It's fifty-five,' Leander shouts. Then says Ernest, wery cool, +'Pinky Binn says it's sixty-five, and Pinky Binn ain't no storyteller, +and you hadn't otter call her one.' That takes all the talk out of the +teacher. He just sets there wrappin' his legs round the chair and +glarin'. Ernest's voice rings clear above the school now, like the +Declaration of Independence. 'In Turkey Walley, teacher,' he says, +'five times eleven apples is sixty-five. They raises bigger apples +there.' +</P> + +<P> +"Leander's legs unsprung. He ketched Ernest by the hair and lifted him +to the platform. Boys, you otter 'a' seen it. It was David and +Goliath all over agin, only fightin' fair. Havin' Leander holdin' his +hair give the boy an advantage—it was two hands agin one. Leander had +but the one to operate his stick with, while Ernest was drivin' both +fists right into the darkness in front of him. The stick was making no +impression, and some of the small boys that didn't know no better begin +to cheer. Boys, you otter 'a' been there. You'd have enjoyed it, +Henery. Leander seen what he needed was tactics, and his regular +tactics was to hold the scholar at arm's length by the hair. He tried +it and it didn't work. Ernest was usin' tactics too. He wasn't +wastin' strength and beatin' his arms around. He just smiled. That +smile aroused the teacher in Leander agin. He couldn't stand it. He +had never had a boy do that before; he forgot himself and sailed in. +Boys, that was fightin' then. You'd have enjoyed it, Henery. Still, I +guess it couldn't have been much to watch, for there was nothin' to see +but dust—a rollin', roarin' cloud of it, backward and forward over the +platform. I don't know just what happened. Pap couldn't tell. +Leander couldn't 'a' told you. Ernest couldn't 'a' told you. There +was war—real war, and after it come peace." +</P> + +<P> +"Ernest whipped, I know," cried Henry Holmes. +</P> + +<P> +"The teacher was licked—good—good!" shouted Isaac Bolum. +</P> + +<P> +"No, boys," said Josiah solemnly, "that couldn't have been. Even in +fairy stories sech things couldn't happen. But when the dust cleared +away, Leander's body lay along the floor, and towerin' over him, one +foot on his boosom, stood the darin' scholar. I guess the teacher had +been took ill." +</P> + +<P> +"Mebbe it was appleplexy," suggested Elmer Spiker. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebbe it was," said Josiah. "It must have been somethin' like that; +but whatever it was, there stood the boy. 'You is free,' he says, +addressin' the scholars. And the children broke from the seats and +started for'a'd to worship him. And Pinky Binn was almost on her knees +at his feet, when a strange thing happened. +</P> + +<P> +"There was music. It come soft first, and hushed the school, and froze +the scholars like statutes. Louder it come and louder—a heavenly +choir—the melodium, the cordine, and the fiddle. Then a great white +light flooded the school-room. It blinded the boys, and it blinded the +girls. The music played softer and softer—the melodium, the cordine, +and the fiddle—and with it, keepin' time with it, the light come +softer, too; so lookin' up the scholars seen there in the celestial +glow, a solemn company gethered round the boy—the he-roes of +old—Hercules and General Grant, Joshuay and Washington—all the mighty +fighters of history. Just one glimpse the scholars had, for the music +struck up louder, and the light glowed brighter and brighter till it +blinded them. Softer and softer the music come—the melodium, the +cordine, and the fiddle. It sounded like marchin', they said, and they +heard the tramp, tramp, tramp of the sperrit soldiers. Then there was +quiet—only the roarin' of the stove and the snuffin' of the little +ones. And when they looked up Leander was alone—settin' there on the +platform, kind of rubbin' his eyes—alone." +</P> + +<P> +There was silence in the store. Josiah Nummler's pipe was going full +blast, and while the white cloud hid him from the others, I could see a +gentle smile on his fat face. +</P> + +<P> +"Mighty son's!" cried Henry Holmes, "that there's unpossible." +</P> + +<P> +Josiah planted his pole on the floor and lifted himself to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"It's only a fairy story, Henery," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"What does it illustrate?" cried Aaron Kallaberger. "Nothin', I says. +We was talkin' about Mark and William Bellus, and you switches off on +Leander and Ernest. To a certain pint your story agrees with what my +boy told me of the doin's in the school this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"What doing's?" I exclaimed. This talk puzzled me, and I was +determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, wasn't you there?" cried Isaac Bolum. "Wasn't it you and +William?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," I fairly shouted. "Perry Thomas had the school." +</P> + +<P> +Josiah Nummler's pole clattered to the floor, and he sank into a chair. +</P> + +<P> +"I see—I see," he gasped. "Poor William!" +</P> + +<P> +"I see—I see," said I. "Poor William!" +</P> + +<P> +For William had felt the hand of "Doogulus!" +</P> + +<A NAME="img-201"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-201.jpg" ALT="William had felt the hand of "Doogulus."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="353" HEIGHT="584"> +<H4> +[Illustration: William had felt the hand of "Doogulus."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XII +</H3> + + +<P> +It was young Colonel's first day of life. He had been born six months +before, but for him that had been simply the beginning of existence. +Now he was to live. He was to go with Captain, and with Betsy his +mother, with Arnold Arker's Mike and Major, the best of his breed, to +learn to take the trail and follow it, singing as he ran. +</P> + +<P> +It was young Colonel's first day of life. He was out in the great dog +world, and about him were the mighty hunters of the valley. Arnold +Arker was there with his father's rifle, once a flint-lock, always a +piece of marvellous accuracy, and a hero as guns go, and the old man +patted the puppy and pulled his silky ears. Tip Pulsifer approved of +him. Tip shut one eye and gazed at him long and earnestly; he ran his +bony fingers down the slender back to the very end of the agitated +tail. One by one he took the heavy paws in his hands and stroked them. +Then Tip smiled. Murphy Kallaberger smiled too, and declared that the +young un took after his pa; clarifying this explanation he pointed his +fat thumb over his shoulder to old Captain, beating around the +underbrush. +</P> + +<P> +It was young Colonel's first day of life. And what a day to live, I +thought, as I stroked his head and wished him luck! He could not get +it into his puppy brain that I was to wait there while the others went +racing down the slope into the wooded basin below, so he lingered, to +sit before me on his haunches, his head cocked to one side, eyeing me +inquisitively. There was a tang in the air. The wind was sweeping +along the ridge-top and the woods were shivering. All about us rattled +Nature's bones, in the stirring leaves, in the falling pig-nuts, in the +crash of the belated birds through the leafless branches. The sun was +over us, and as I looked up to drink with my eyes of the warm light, I +was taking a draught of God's best wine from off yonder in the north, +of the wine that quickens the blood and drives away the brain-clouds. +A day of days this was to race over the ridges while the music of the +hounds rang through them; a day of days to dash from thicket to +thicket, over the hills and through the hollows, leaping logs and +vaulting fences, with every sense keyed to the highest; for the fox is +a clever general. So young Colonel was puzzled, for there I was on a +log, at the crest of the ridge, with my crutches at one side and my gun +at the other, when I should be away after old Captain, the real leader +of the sport, after Arnold and Tip and Betsy. This was the best I +could do, to sit here and listen and hope—listen as the chase went +swinging along the ridges; hope that a kind fate and an unwise Reynard +would bring them where I could add the bark of my rifle to the song of +the hounds. You can't explain everything to a dog. With a puppy it is +still harder. So Colonel was restless. He looked anxiously down the +hill; then he lifted those soft, slantwise eyes to mine very wistfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Go, Colonel," I commanded, pointing to the hollow. +</P> + +<P> +Instead, he came to me and lifted to my knee one of those ponderous +feet of his, and tried to pull me from my log. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you coming?" he seemed to say. +</P> + +<P> +"No, old chap," I answered, pulling the long ears gently till he +smiled. "I prefer it here where I can look over the valley, and from +here I can see where Mary lives—down yonder on the hillside; that's +the house by the clump of oaks, where the smoke is curling up so thick." +</P> + +<P> +The slantwise eyes became grave, and the long tail paused. The second +ponderous paw came crashing on my knee. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you coming?" young Colonel seemed to say. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-209"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-209.jpg" ALT=""Aren't you coming?" young Colonel seemed to say." BORDER="2" WIDTH="327" HEIGHT="356"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "Aren't you coming?" young Colonel seemed to say.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +I was flattering myself that the puppy was choosing my company to the +hunt, for I always value the approval of a dog. Now I found myself +hoping that with a little coddling the young hound would forget the +great doings down in the hollow and would stay with me on the +ridge-top. But I should have known better. There is an end even to a +dog's patience. The place for the strong-limbed is in the thick of the +chase. You can't interest a puppy in scenery when his fellows are +running a fox. +</P> + +<P> +"Look, Colonel," said I, pointing over the valley, "yonder's where Mary +lives, and I suspect that at this very minute she is looking out of the +window to this very spot, and——" +</P> + +<P> +The call of a hound floated up from the hollow. Old Captain was on a +trail. With a shrill cry young Colonel answered. This was no time to +loaf with a crippled soldier. With a long-drawn yelp, a childish +imitation of his father's bay, he was off through the bushes. Young +Colonel was living. And I was left alone on my log. +</P> + +<P> +But this was my first day of life, too. Some twenty-four years before +I had been born, but those years were simply existence. Now I was +living. I had a secret. I had hinted at it to young Colonel. Had he +stayed, I would have told him more, but like a fool he had gone +jabbering off through the bushes, cutting a ludicrous figure, too, I +thought, for his body had not yet grown up to his feet and ears, and he +carried them off a bit clumsily. Had he stayed I might have told him +all, and there never was a bit of news quite so important as that the +foolish puppy missed; never a story so romantic as that he might have +heard; never in the valley's history an event of such interest. He had +scorned it. Now he was with the dog mob down there in the gulch. I +could hear them giving tongue, and I knew they were on an old trail. +Soon they would be in full cry, but I did not care. It was fine to be +in full cry, of course, but from my post on the ridge-top, I could at +least keep in sight of the house by the clump of oaks on the hillside. +Last week I should have moped and fumed here, and cursed my luck in +being bound to a log on a day like this. Now I turned my face to the +sunlight and drank in the keen air. Now I whistled as merry a tune as +I knew. +</P> + +<P> +"You seem to take well with solitude," came a voice behind me. +</P> + +<P> +Looking about, I saw Robert Weston fighting his way through the thicket. +</P> + +<P> +"I take better to company," I said. "Why have you deserted the others?" +</P> + +<P> +Weston sat down at my side with his gun across his knees. +</P> + +<P> +"Arnold Arker says there is a fox in that hollow," he answered. "You +can hear the dogs now, and he thinks if they start him, this is as good +a place as any, as he is likely to run over on Buzzard ridge, and +double back this way, or he'll give us a sight of him as he breaks from +the gully. Then as we went away, I looked back and saw you sitting +here and I envied you, for yours is the most comfortable post in all +the ridges." +</P> + +<P> +"When you could be somewhere else, yes," said I. "Having to sit here, +I should prefer running closer to the dogs." +</P> + +<P> +"As you have to stay here, I'd rather sit with you, and after all what +could be better?" Weston laughed. "You know, Mark, in all the valley +you are the man I get along with best." +</P> + +<P> +"Because I've never tried to find out why you were here." +</P> + +<P> +"For that reason I told you," said he. "How simple it was, too. There +was no cause for mystery." +</P> + +<P> +"It would still be a mystery to Elmer Spiker, say. He can't conceive a +man living in the country by choice." +</P> + +<P> +"To Elmer Spiker—indeed, to most of the folks around here, the city is +man's natural environment. It's just bad luck to be country-born." +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Weston is a keen fellow. There was a quiet, cynical smile on his face +as he sat there beating a tattoo on his leggings with a hickory twig. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at your brother," he exclaimed after a while. "I always told Tim +that if he knew what was best he'd stay right here and——" +</P> + +<P> +"If you told him that now, he would laugh at you," I interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +Weston looked surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"Does he like work?" he exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"The boy is in love," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +Weston dropped the hickory twig, and turning, gazed at me. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew that," he said. "I knew that long ago." +</P> + +<P> +"With Edith Parker," I hastened to explain. "You know her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—oh," he muttered. +</P> + +<P> +He pulled out a cigar-case and a box of matches and spent a long time +getting a light. +</P> + +<P> +Then with a glance of inquiry, he said, "Edith Parker?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, don't you know her?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I know a half a hundred Parkers," he replied. "I may know Edith +Parker, but I can't recall her." +</P> + +<P> +"This one is your book-keeper's daughter," I said with considerable +heat. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed," said he calmly. "Parker—Parker—I thought our book-keeper's +name was Smyth. Yes—I'm quite sure it's Smyth." +</P> + +<P> +"But Tim says it's Parker," said I. "Tim ought to know." +</P> + +<P> +"Tim should know," laughed Weston. "I guess he does know better than +I. A minute ago I would have sworn it was Smyth; but to tell the +truth, I never gave any attention to such details of business. Well, +Edith is my book-keeper's daughter." +</P> + +<P> +"She lives in Brooklyn," said I, "and she is very beautiful. Every +letter I get from Tim, the more beautiful she becomes, for in all my +life I never heard of a fellow as frank as he is. Usually men hide +what sentiment they have except from a few women, but his letters make +me blush when I read them." +</P> + +<P> +"They are so full of gush," said Weston, calmly smoking. +</P> + +<P> +He seemed very indifferent, and to be more listening to the cries of +the dogs working around the hollow than to the affairs of the Hope +family. +</P> + +<P> +"Gush is the word for it," I answered. "Tim never gives me a line +about himself. It's all Edith—Edith—Edith." +</P> + +<P> +"And he is engaged to Miss Smyth?" Weston struck his legging a sharp +blow with his stick. "Confound it!" he cried, "I can't get it out of +my head that our book-keeper's name is Smyth." +</P> + +<P> +"But Tim knows, surely," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—he must," answered Weston. "Of course I'm wrong. But this Miss +Parker—are they engaged?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't tell from his last letter," I replied. "It seems that they +must be pretty near it—that's what Mary says, too." +</P> + +<P> +Weston started. Then he rose to his feet very slowly, and wheeling +about looked down on me and smoked. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary says so too," he repeated. "How in the world does Mary know?" +</P> + +<P> +"I read her the letter," said I, apologetically. It did seem wrong to +read Tim's letter that way. From my standpoint it was all right now, +but Weston did not know that, so he whistled softly to himself. +</P> + +<P> +From the hollow came the long-drawn cry of the hound. It was old +Captain. Betsy joined in, then Mike; and now the ridges rang with the +music of the chase. They were on a fresh trail; they were away over +hill and hollow, singing full-throated as they ran. +</P> + +<P> +"They've found him," I cried, rising to hear the song of the hounds. +</P> + +<P> +Weston sat down on the log. +</P> + +<P> +"They are making for the other ridge," said I, pointing over the narrow +gully. "Hark! There's young Colonel." +</P> + +<P> +But Weston went on smoking. "Poor Tim!" I heard him say. +</P> + +<P> +Full and strong rang the music of the dogs, as they swung out of the +hollow, up the ridge-side. For a moment, in the clearing, I had a +glimpse of them, Captain leading, with Betsy at his haunches, and Mike +and Major nose and nose behind them. Far in the rear, but in the +chase, was little Colonel. A grand puppy, he! All ears and feet. But +he runs bravely through the tangled brush. Many a stouter dog comes +from it with flanks all torn and bloody. I waved my hat wildly, +cheering him on. I called to him loudly, in the vain hope he might +look back, as though at a time like this a hound would turn from the +trail. On he went into the woods—nose to the ground and body low—all +feet and ears—and a stout heart! +</P> + +<P> +"Now we must wait," I said, "and watch, and hope." +</P> + +<P> +Already they had turned the crest of the hill, and fainter and fainter +came the sound of the chase. +</P> + +<P> +"Mark," Weston began, "I hope this affair of Tim's turns out all right. +What little I can do shall be done, and to-night I'm going to write to +the office that they must help him along. He deserves it." +</P> + +<P> +"But the poorer men are, the greater their love," I laughed. "With +money to marry, Tim might think that after all he'd better look around +more—take a choice." +</P> + +<P> +"But Tim is the most serious person that ever was," returned Weston. +"I have found that out. Once he makes up his mind, there is no +changing it. He is full of ideas. He actually thinks that a man who +is in business is doing something praiseworthy; that a man who has +bought and sold merchandise at a profit all his life can fold his hands +when he dies and say; 'I have not lived in vain.' He does not know yet +that the larger estate a man leaves to his relatives the more useful +his life has been. Now I suppose he hopes some day to be a tea-king. +Perhaps he will. I hope so. I don't want the job. But once he has +picked out his queen, you can't change him by making marriage a +financial impossibility." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm certainly not protesting against your raising his salary," +said I. +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't. To tell the truth, it's too late. I wrote to the office +about that yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +It was of no use to thank Weston for anything. I tried to, but he +brushed it aside airily and told me to attend to my own affairs and +light one of his cigars. When we were smoking together, his mood +became more serious, and as he spoke of Tim and Tim's ambition, and of +his interest in the boy, he was carried back to his own earlier life. +So for the first time I came to understand his prolonged stay in the +valley. +</P> + +<P> +Like Elmer Spiker, in my heart Weston's conduct puzzled me. When he +told me that he had come here simply because he liked the country I +believed him that far, but I suspected some deeper reason to keep a man +of his stamp dawdling in a remote valley. Now it was so simple. The +foundation of Weston's fortunes had been laid in one small saloon; its +bulk had been built on a chain stretching from end to end of the city. +Its founder had been a coarse, uneducated man, but his success in the +liquor trade had been too great to be forgotten, even years after he +had abandoned it and built up the great commercial house that bore his +name. His ambition for his son had been boundless. He had spared +nothing to make him a better man in the world's eye than his father. +He had succeeded. But the world had persisted in remembering the +parental bar. Robert Weston had never seen that bar, for he had +entered on the scene when there was a chain of them, and his father had +brought him up almost in ignorance of their very existence. Even at +the university he had little reason to be ashamed of them. It was +after he had spent years in rounding out his education abroad, and had +returned to take his place in those circles which he believed he was +entitled to enter, that he found that the world persisted in pointing +to the large revenue stamp that seemed to cling to him. A stronger man +would have fought against odds like those and won for himself a place +that would suffer no denial. But Weston was physically a delicate man. +By nature he was retiring, rather than aggressive. If those who were +his equals would have none of him because of his father's faults, then +he would not seek them. Equally distasteful were those who equalled +him in wealth alone, for by a strange contradiction, the very fact that +the rumshop did not jar on their sensibilities, marked them for him as +coarse and uncongenial. Weston had turned to himself. It is the study +of oneself that makes cynics. The study of others makes egotists. +Then a woman had come. Of her Weston did not say much, except that she +had made him turn from himself for a time to study her. He had become +an egotist and so had dared to love her. She had loved him, he +thought, for she said so, and promised to become his wife. Things were +growing brighter. But they met an officious friend. They were in +Venice at the time, he having joined her there with her family. The +officious friend joined the family too, and he held up his hands in +horror when he heard of it. Didn't the family know? Oh, yes, Bob was +himself a fine fellow; but he was Whiskey Weston! +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, no good woman wants to be Mrs. Whiskey Weston," said my +friend grimly. "Still, I think she did care a bit for me; but it was +all up. Back I came, and here I am, Mark, just kind of stopping to +stretch my legs and rest a little and breathe. I came on a wheel, for +I had ridden for miles and miles trying to get my mind back on myself +the way it used to be." +</P> + +<P> +Then he smoked. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that the dogs again?" I said, to break the oppressive silence. +</P> + +<P> +Weston did not heed me, but pointed down the valley to the house by the +clump of oaks. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know sometimes I think that Mary there, with all her bringing +up, would edge away from me if she knew that my father had kept saloons +and gambling places and all that." Weston spoke carelessly, puffing at +his cigar, for he had recovered his easy demeanor. "I think a world of +Mary, Mark. She is beautiful, and good, and honest. Sometimes I +suspect that I've stayed here just for her. Sometimes I think I will +not leave till she goes—" Weston sprang to his feet. "It's the dogs! +Hear them!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +I was up too. Away down the ridge we heard the bay of the hounds again. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to tell you something," I said, pointing to the house by the +clump of oaks. "I wish for your sake that there were two Marys, +Weston. But there is only one, and she is good and beautiful, and for +some reason—Heaven only knows why—she is going to be my wife." +</P> + +<P> +Weston stepped hack and gazed at me. I did not blame him. He seemed +to study me from head to foot, and I knew that he was trying to find +some reason why the girl should care for me. It was natural. I had +puzzled over the same problem and I had not solved it. Now I did not +care. +</P> + +<P> +"Stare on," I cried, laughing. "You can't think it queerer than I do. +It's hard for me to convince myself that it is true." +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad," he said, taking my hand in a warm grasp. "It isn't +strange at all, Mark, for Mary is a wise woman." +</P> + +<P> +"There are the dogs," said I; "they are getting nearer." +</P> + +<P> +"They are coming our way at last," he returned quietly. "But what's +that to us when you are to be married? I wish you joy and I shall be +at the wedding, and it must be soon, too, and Tim shall be here." He +was speaking very rapidly; his face was pale and his hand trembled in +mine. "I'll send for him. Tim must have a holiday, and perhaps he'll +bring Miss—Miss Smyth." Weston laughed. "Parker," he corrected. +"He'll bring Miss Parker or Mrs. Tim." +</P> + +<P> +Full and strong the bay of the hounds was ringing along the ridges. +Nearer and nearer they were coming. Now I could hear old Captain's +deep tones, and the shorter, sharper tongue of Betsy, Mike, and Major. +The fox was keeping to the ridge-top and in a few moments he would be +sweeping by us. I pointed through the woods to a bit of clearing made +by a charcoal burner. If he kept his course the fox would cross it, +and that meant a clear shot. Weston knew the place, and without a word +he picked up his gun and hurried through the woods. +</P> + +<P> +Nearer and nearer came the hounds. The woods were ringing with their +music, and the sound of the chase swung to and fro, from ridge to +ridge. Now I could hear the crashing of the underbrush. +</P> + +<P> +Weston fired. The report rattled from hill to hill. +</P> + +<P> +My own gun sprang to the shoulder, but it was too late. The fox, +seeing me, veered down the slope, and swept on to safety or to death, +for six more anxious hunters were watching for him somewhere in those +woods. +</P> + +<P> +The dogs swept by, old Captain as ever leading, with Betsy at his +haunches and Mike and Major neck and neck behind. +</P> + +<P> +I watched for little Colonel. A minute passed and he did not come. +Poor puppy! He had learned that to live was to suffer. Somewhere in +these woods he must be lying, resting those ponderous paws and licking +his bloody flanks. +</P> + +<P> +The hollow was alive with the bay of dogs; the ridges were ringing with +the echoes of a gunshot; but above them all I heard a plaintive wail +over there in the charcoal clearing. I called for Weston and I got no +answer, only the cry of the little hound. I called again and I got no +answer. Through the hushes I tore as fast as my crutches would take +me, calling as I ran and hearing only the wail of the puppy, till I +broke from the cover into the open. +</P> + +<P> +On his haunches, his slantwise eyes half closed, his head lifted high +in the bright sunlight, sat little Colonel, wailing. He heard me call. +He saw me. And when I reached him he was licking the white face of +Whiskey Weston. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-225"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-225.jpg" ALT="Sat little Colonel, wailing." BORDER="2" WIDTH="525" HEIGHT="389"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Sat little Colonel, wailing.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIII +</H3> + + +<P> +Hindsight is better than foresight. A foolish saying. By foresight we +do God's will. By hindsight we would seek to better His handiwork. +Things are right as they are, I say, as I sit quietly of an evening +smoking my pipe on my porch, watching the mountains in the west bathe +in the gold and purple of the descending sun. What might have been, +might also have been all wrong. A foolish saying, says Tim, for if +what might have been should actually be, then we should have the +realization of our fondest dreams. And with that realization might +come a dreadful awakening from our dreams, say I. You might have +become a tea-king, Tim, and measure your fortune in millions. I might +have turned lawyer instead of soldier; I might have made a great name +for myself in Congress by long speeches full of dry facts and figures, +or short ones puffed up with pompous phrases. The fact that Six Stars +existed might have gone beyond our valley because here you and I were +born, and for a time we honored the place with our presence. Suppose +all that had been, and you the tea-king and I the great lawyer sat here +together as we sit now, smoking, could you add one note to the evening +peace; would the night-hawk pay us homage by a single added ring as he +circles among the clouds; would the bull-frogs in the creek sing louder +to our glory; would the bleating of the sheep swing in sweeter to the +music of the valley? And look at God's fireplace, I cry, pointing to +the west, where the sun is heaping the glowing cloud coals among the +mountains. God's fireplace? says Tim, with a queer look in his eyes. +Yes, say I, and the valley is the hearthstone. The mountains are the +andirons. Over them, piled sky high, the cloud-logs are glowing, and +never logs burned like those, all gold and red. Night after night I +can sit here and warm my heart at that fireside. Could you, tea-king, +buy for my eyes a picture more wonderful? The fire is dying. The +cloud coals grow fainter—now purple; and now in ashes they float away +into the chill blue. But they will come again. Could your millions, +tea-king, buy for me a sweeter music than the valley's heart throb as +it rocks itself to sleep? +</P> + +<P> +"No," Tim answers, "but suppose——" +</P> + +<P> +"And could I have better company to watch and listen with?" I exclaim. +"For with you a tea-king, Tim, and I a lawyer, it would be just the +same, would it not?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's just what I was trying to get at," says Tim. "Suppose that day +of the fox-hunt you had not carried Weston——" +</P> + +<P> +I hold up my hand to check him. +</P> + +<P> +"Were it to happen a hundred times over, I would take him to Mary's," I +cry. "Else he would have died." +</P> + +<P> +"You are right, Mark," Tim says. +</P> + +<HR WIDTH="80%"> + +<P> +I took Weston to Mary's house that day when I found him lying in the +charcoal clearing, with little Colonel standing over him wailing. +Tearing open his coat and shirt, I stanched his wound as best I could. +Then I called the others to me. Tip and Arnold picked him up and +carried him, while Murphy Kallaberger and I broke a path through the +bushes, and Aaron ran on to Warden's to tell them of the accident and +have them prepare for the wounded man. Warden's was the nearest house, +but that was a mile from the clearing, and in the woods our progress +was slow. Once free of the ridges and in the open fields the way was +easy, and Murphy could lend a hand to the others. +</P> + +<P> +"He's monstrous light," Tip said. "He doesn't seem no more than skin +and bones in fancy rags." +</P> + +<P> +It is strange how even our clothes go back on us when we are down. +Weston I had always known as a lanky man, but about his loosely fitting +garments there had been an air of careless distinction. Now that he +was broken, they hung with such an odd perversion as to bring from its +hiding-place every sharp angle in the thin frame. The best nine +tailors living could not have clothed him better for that little +journey, nor lessened a whit the pathos of the thin arms that lay +limply across the shoulders of Tip and Arnold. +</P> + +<P> +"He's a livin' skelington," old Arker whispered, as I plodded along at +his side. "Poor devil!" +</P> + +<P> +"Poor devil!" said I. For looking at the almost lifeless man I thought +of my own good fortune. This morning I had envied him. Now he had +nothing but his wealth, and his hold on that was weakening fast. I had +everything—life and health, home and friends—I had Mary. As we +parted a few minutes before, up there in the woods, I had pitied him. +He had seemed so lonely, so bitter in his loneliness, and yet at heart +so good. Now his eyes half opened as they carried him on, his glance +met mine in recognition, and it seemed to me that he smiled faintly. +But it was the same bitter smile. "Poor devil!" I said to myself. +</P> + +<P> +And we carried him into Mary's house. +</P> + +<P> +She was waiting for us, and without a word led us upstairs to a room +where we laid him on a bed. +</P> + +<P> +"I stumbled, Mark, I stumbled," he whispered, as I leaned over him. +"The fox came and I ran for it—then I fell—and then the little hound +came, and then——" +</P> + +<P> +Mary was bathing his forehead, and for the first time he saw her. +</P> + +<P> +"I stumbled, Mary," he whispered. "I swear it." +</P> + +<HR WIDTH="80%"> + +<P> +It was nearly ten o'clock when I left Weston's room. The doctor was +with him and was preparing to bivouac at the patient's side. He was a +young man from the big valley. Luther Warden had driven to the county +town and brought him back to us. The first misgivings I had when I +caught sight of his youthful, beardless face were dispelled by the +business-like way in which he went about his work. He had been in a +volunteer regiment, he told me, as an assistant surgeon, but had never +gone past the fever camps, as this was his first case of a gunshot +wound. He had made a study of gunshot wounds, and deemed himself +fortunate to be in when Mr. Warden called. Truly, said I to myself, +one man's death is another man's practice. But it was best that he was +so confident, and I found my faith in him growing as he worked. The +wound was a bad one, he said, and the ball had narrowly missed the +heart, but with care the man would come around all right. The main +thing was proper nursing. The young doctor smiled as he spoke, for +standing before him in a solemn row were half the women of Six Stars. +Mrs. Bolum was there with a tumbler of jelly; Mrs. Tip Pulsifer had +brought her "paytent gradeated medicent glass," hoping it would be +useful; Mrs. Henry Holmes had no idea what was needed, but just grabbed +a hot-water bottle as she ran. Elmer Spiker's better half was there to +demand her injured boarder at once; he paid for his room at the tavern; +it was but right that he should occupy it and that she should care for +him. When she found that she could not have him entirely, she +compromised on the promise that she would be allowed to watch over him +the whole of the next day. In spite of the jar of jelly, the doctor +chose Mrs. Bolum to help him that night, and when I left them the old +woman was sitting in a rocker at the bedside, her eyes watching every +movement of the sleeping patient's drawn face. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-235"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-235.jpg" ALT="The main thing was proper nursing." BORDER="2" WIDTH="350" HEIGHT="540"> +<H4> +[Illustration: The main thing was proper nursing.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Outside, the wind was whistling. The steady heating of an oak branch +on the porch roof told me it was blowing hard. It sounded cold. Mary +stood tiptoe to reach my collar and turn it up. Then she buttoned me +snug around the neck. It was the first time a woman had ever done that +for me. How good it was! I absently turned the collar down again and +tore my coat open. Then I smiled. +</P> + +<P> +Again she raised herself tiptoe before me, and with a hand on each +shoulder, she stood looking from her eyes into mine. +</P> + +<P> +"You fraud!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +Then I laughed. Lord, how I laughed! Twenty-four years I had lived, +and until now I had never known a real joke, one that made the heart +beat quicker, and sent the blood singing through the veins; that made +the fingers tingle, the ears burn, and brought tears to the eyes. I +don't suppose that other people would have thought this one so amusing. +The young doctor upstairs might not have feigned a smile, for instance. +That was what made it all the better for me, for it was my own joke and +Mary's, and in all the world I was the only man who could see the fun +of it. +</P> + +<P> +"When you turn that collar up again I am going," said I. +</P> + +<P> +So she sprang away from me, laughing, and quick as I reached out to +seize her, she avoided me. +</P> + +<P> +"You know I can't catch you," I cried, taunting her, "so I must wait." +</P> + +<P> +As she stood there before me quietly, her hands clasped, her eyes +looking up into mine, I saw how fair she was, and I wondered. The +picture of Weston in the woods, standing off there gazing at me, came +back then, and with it a vague feeling of fear and distrust. I saw +myself as Weston saw me, and I marvelled. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary," I said, "this morning up there in the woods I told Robert +Weston everything, and he stood off just as you are standing now. It +seemed to me he wondered how it could be true, and now I wonder too. +Maybe it's all a mistake." +</P> + +<P> +"It's not a mistake, Mark," the girl said, and she came to me again and +put a hand on each shoulder and looked up. "If I did not care for you +I'd never have given you the promise I did last night. But I do care +for you, Mark, more than for anyone else in the world. You are big and +strong and good—that's why—it's all any woman can ask. You are true, +Mark—and that's more than most men——" +</P> + +<P> +"But, Mary, there's Tim," I protested, for I did not care to usurp to +myself the sum of all the virtues allotted to my sex. +</P> + +<P> +"Tim?" said she lightly, as though she had never heard of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Tim," I said shortly. "Why did you choose me instead of a lad +like Tim?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mark, I care for you more than anyone else in the world," said Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"But do you love me?" I asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I do," she said. But reaching up, she turned my collar again +and buttoned my coat against the storm. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIV +</H3> + + +<P> +Tim was home in three days. His few months of town life had wrought +many changes in him, and they were for the better. I was forced to +admit that, but I could not help being just a little in awe of him. He +was not as heavy as of old, but there was more firmness in his face and +figure. Perhaps it was his clothes that had given him a strange new +grace, for in the old days he was a ponderous, slow-moving fellow. Now +there was a lightness in his step and quickness in his every motion. +Had I not known him, I should have seen in the scrupulous part in his +hair a suggestion of the foppish. But I knew him, and while I liked +him best with his old tousled head, and tanned face, and homely hickory +shirt, I felt a certain pride that he had taken so well with the world +and was learning the ways of the town as well as those of the field and +wood. His gloves did seem foolish, for it was a bitter December day +when the blood had best had full swing in the veins, but he held out to +me a hand pinched in a few square inches of yellow kid. The grasp was +just as warm though, and I forgave that. When he threw aside his silly +little overcoat and stood before me, so tall and strong, so clean-cut +and faultless, from the part in his hair to the shine on his boot-tips, +I cried, "Heigh-ho, my fine gentleman!" +</P> + +<P> +Then he blushed. I suspected that it pleased him vastly. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think it an improvement?" he faltered, standing with his back +to the fireplace and lifting himself to his full height. +</P> + +<P> +Before I could reply, the door flew open without the formality of a +knock, and old Mrs. Bolum ran in. When she saw him, she stopped and +stared. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, ain't he tasty!" she cried. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-242"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-242.jpg" ALT="Well, ain't he tasty." BORDER="2" WIDTH="327" HEIGHT="363"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Well, ain't he tasty.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Then she courtesied most formally. "How do you do, Mr. Hope?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"And how is Mrs. Bolum?" returned Tim gravely, advancing toward her +with his hand outstretched. +</P> + +<P> +The old woman rubbed her own hand on her apron, an honor usually +accorded only to the preacher, and held it out. Tim seized it, but he +brought his other arm around her waist and lifted her from the floor in +one mighty embrace. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll spoil your Sunday clothes," panted Mrs. Bolum, when she reached +the floor again. Stepping back, she eyed him critically. "You look +handsomer than a drummer," she cried admiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, ma'am," said Tim very meekly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so sorry I left my spectacles at home," she went on. "My eyes +ain't as good as they used to be and I can't see you plain as I'd like. +Mebbe it's my sight as is the trouble, but it seems to me, as I see you +now without my glasses, you're just about the prettiest man that ever +come to Six Stars." +</P> + +<P> +"Lord, ma'am," protested Tim. "And how is Mr. Bolum?" +</P> + +<P> +"And such a lovely suit," continued the old woman, cautiously +approaching and moving her hand across my brother's chest. "Why, Tim, +you must have on complete store clothes—dear, oh, dear—to think of +Tim Hope gittin' so fine and dressy! Now had it 'a' been Mark I +wouldn't 'a' been so took back, for he allus was uppy and big feelin'. +But Tim!" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Bolum shook her head and held her hands up in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"And how is Mr. Bolum?" shouted Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"Never was better, 'ceptin' for his rheumatism and asphmy," was the +answer, but the good woman was not to be turned aside that way. "And a +cady," she cried, for her eyes had caught Tim's hat and the silly +yellow overcoat on the chair where I had thrown them. "A cady, too! +Now just put it on and let me see how you look." +</P> + +<P> +Tim obeyed. Mrs. Bolum stepped hack to get a better effect. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't as pretty as your coon-skin," she said critically; "you'd +look lovely in that suit with your coon-skin cap—but hold on—don't +take it off—I want Bolum to see you." +</P> + +<P> +She ran from the room and we heard her calling from the porch: +"Bo-lum—Bo-lum—Isaac Bo-oh-lum." +</P> + +<P> +Isaac was at the store. It seemed to me that his wife should have +known that without much research. The little pile of sticks by the +kitchen-door showed that his day's work was done, for when he had split +the wood for the morrow it was the old man's custom to put aside all +worldly care and start on a tour of the village, which generally ended +on the bench at Henry Holmes's side. +</P> + +<P> +It was almost dusk. Tim had come on a mission to Robert Weston. I had +sent word to him of the accident, that Weston's friends might know, and +the first thought of the injured man's partner was to hurry to Six +Stars, but my second despatch, announcing that our friend was well on +the road to recovery, led to the change in plans that brought Tim to +us. Mrs. Bolum did not succeed in alarming the village before he and I +were well up the road, past the school-house and climbing the hill to +Warden's. +</P> + +<P> +Tim had a great deal to tell me in that short walk. I had much to tell +him, but I was silent and let him chatter on, giving but little +attention to what he said, for I was planning a great surprise. The +simplest thing would have been to tell him my secret then, but I had +pictured something more dramatic. I wanted Mary to witness his +dumfounding when he heard the news. I wanted her to be there when its +full import broke upon him; then the three of us, Mary and Tim and I, +would do a wild jig. What boon companions we should be—we three—to +go through life together! And Edith? Four of us—so much the better! +I had never seen this Edith, but Tim is a wonderful judge of women. +</P> + +<P> +So I let him talk, on and on about the city and his life there, until +we reached the house. We found that Mrs. Spiker had secured her +rights, and was on duty that day as nurse. The young doctor was there, +too, as were Mrs. Tip Pulsifer and a half dozen others, a goodly +company to greet us. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Mary!" Tim cried, breaking through the others, when he caught +sight of her, standing at the foot of the stairs with a lighted candle +in her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Tim!" cried Mary. "And where is Edith?" +</P> + +<P> +"Edith?" Tim exclaimed, stopping as if to collect the thoughts her +sudden taunting question had scattered. "I left her behind this time, +but when I come again you shall see her." Tim, with arms akimbo, stood +there laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"We country girls, I understand, cannot compare with her," said Mary, +tilting her chin. +</P> + +<P> +She had started up the stairs, and now paused, looking down on us. And +I looked up at her face showing out of the darkness in the half light, +and I laughed, wondering what Tim thought, wondering if he was blind, +or was this Edith really bewildering. +</P> + +<P> +"Did I say that?" cried Tim. "Then I must have meant it when I said +it. To-night I have learned better, Mary, but you know I never saw you +standing that way before—on the stairs above me—kind of like an angel +with a halo——" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" retorted Mary; "but we women of Black Log deck ourselves out +in gaudy finery, Mr. Tim, I believe. We women of Black Log do not +inspire a man, like your Edith." +</P> + +<P> +"Confound my Edith!" Tim exclaimed hotly. "Why, Mary, can't you see I +was joking? The idea of comparing Edith with you—why, Mary——" +</P> + +<P> +Tim in his protest started to mount the stairs, and there was an +earnestness in his tone that made me think it high time he knew our +secret, for his own sake and for Edith's. It seemed to me unfair of +him to desert her so basely in the presence of an enemy. He should +have stood by her to the very end, and had he boldly declared that as +compared to her Mary was a mummy I should have admired him the more; I +should have understood; I should have known he was mistaken, but +endured it. Now I seized him by the coat and pulled him back. +</P> + +<P> +"Tim," I said solemnly, "I have something to tell you." +</P> + +<P> +My brother turned and gave me a startled look. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary and I have something to tell you," I went on. +</P> + +<P> +That should have given him a clew. I had expected that at this point +he would embrace me. But he didn't. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you think I've been a fool about Edith?" he muttered +ruefully. +</P> + +<P> +"No, it isn't that," I laughed. "Mary, will you tell him?" +</P> + +<P> +But we were in darkness! She had dropped the candle, and down the +stairs the stick came clattering. It landed on the floor and went +rolling across the room. Tim made a dive for it. He groped his way to +the corner where its career had ended. Then he lighted it again. +</P> + +<P> +Behind us stood the doctor, and Mrs. Tip Pulsifer, and Elmer Spiker's +much better half. Mary was at the head of the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, Tim," she called. "Mr. Weston wants to see you." +</P> + +<P> +"Weston does want to see you very much, Tim," the wounded man said +smiling, lifting a thin hand from the bed for my brother; "I heard you +chattering downstairs, and I thought you were never coming." +</P> + +<P> +"It was Mary's fault," Tim said. "I came back as soon as I could, sir. +Mr. Mills sent me up on the night train—out this afternoon in a livery +rig—here afoot just as fast as Mark would let me—then Mary blocked +the way. Mark was going to tell me something when she dropped the +candle." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, don't you know—" began Weston. +</P> + +<P> +But over my brother's shoulders I shook my head sternly at him and he +stopped and broke into a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Elmer Spiker was standing by him; the young doctor was moving +about the room, apparently very busy; Mrs. Tip Pulsifer was peeping in +at the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you know," said Weston, "how I'd shot myself all to pieces, and +how there's a live fox in the hollows across the ridge?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mark told me of it," answered the innocent Tim, "and I'm glad to find +it is not serious. They were worried at the store. Mr. Mills was for +coming right away, but we got word you were better, and he thought I +should run up anyway for a day to see if we could do anything. I'm to +go back to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"It was good of you to come," Weston said, "but there is nothing to be +done. Just tell Mills the whole valley is nursing me; tell him that +I've one nurse alone who is worth a score." Mrs. Spiker looked very +conscious, but Weston smiled at Mary. Then he quickly added: "Tell him +that Mrs. Bolum and Mrs. Spiker and Mrs. Pulsifer—" he paused to make +sure that none was missed—"and Mark here are a hospital corps, taken +singly or in a body." +</P> + +<P> +"I've told him that already," said Tim. "He knows everybody in Six +Stars, I guess, and he says as soon as you get well and come back to +the office, he will take a holiday himself, fox hunting." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor little Colonel!" murmured Weston. "He'll have a melancholy +career. And Mary, too, she'll——" +</P> + +<P> +"But it was when I told him about Mary that he made up his mind to +come," Tim said. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed." The girl spoke very quietly. "And, perhaps, Tim, you'll +send Edith along to help us. We women of Black Log are so clumsy." +</P> + +<P> +"A good idea," said Weston. "Capital. You must bring Miss Smyth up, +too, Tim." +</P> + +<P> +"Parker," I corrected, "Edith Parker." +</P> + +<P> +"But is it Parker?" Weston appealed to my brother. "Mark tells me +she's the book-keeper's daughter. Has old Smyth gone?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," Tim stammered, very much confused. "I guess you don't know +Parker. He's come lately." +</P> + +<P> +"That explains it, then," said Weston. +</P> + +<P> +But he turned and looked away from us, his brow knitted. Something +seemed to puzzle him, for he was frowning, but by and by the old +cynical smile came back. +</P> + +<P> +He said suddenly: "Tim, I wish you luck. I'm glad anyway it isn't +Smyth's daughter. That was what I couldn't understand. Ever see +Smyth's daughter? No. Well, you needn't bemoan it. I dare say Miss +Parker is all you picture her, and I hope you'll win." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think you'd better rest now?" asked Tim, with sudden +solicitation. Though he addressed himself to Weston, his eyes were +appealing to the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I had," Weston answered, not waiting for the physician to +interpose any order. "I get tuckered out pretty easily these days, +with this confounded bullet-hole in me—but stay a moment, Tim. +They've got a letter from me at the office by this time. It may +surprise them; it may surprise you, but I wanted you to know I'd fixed +it all right for you, my boy. I did it for Edith's sake." +</P> + +<P> +Tim, with face flushed and hands outstretched in protest, arose from +his chair and went to the bedside. +</P> + +<P> +"But don't you see it's all a joke," he cried. "I can't take it. +Won't you believe me this time? There isn't any Edith!" +</P> + +<P> +"I knew that long ago, Tim," Weston answered quietly. "But there may +be some day." +</P> + +<P> +He turned his back to us. +</P> + +<P> +"Please go," he said brusquely. "I want to rest. Don't stand over me +that way, Tim. Why, you look like little Colonel!" +</P> + +<HR WIDTH="80%"> + +<P> +At the school-house door Tim halted suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going back, Mark," he whispered, "just for a minute. Weston will +think I'm a fraud and I want to tell him something. Now that the +others have left I may have a chance. Confound these kind-hearted +women that overrun the house! Why, a fellow couldn't say a word +without a dozen ears to hear it." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go back with you," said I. +</P> + +<P> +We had fallen a few steps behind the others, but somehow they divined +our purpose and stopped, too. +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't," said Tim. "I'll only be a minute." +</P> + +<P> +"But I've something to tell you—a secret—and Mary——" +</P> + +<P> +He was gone. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be back in a minute," he called. "Go on home." +</P> + +<P> +He was lost in the darkness, and I started after him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't you comin'?" cried Nanny Pulsifer. +</P> + +<P> +"I must go back to Warden's," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Then we'll go with you," said Mrs. Spiker firmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you go on home?" I said testily. "There's no use of your +troubling yourself further." +</P> + +<P> +"Does you think we'll walk by that graveyard alone?" demanded the +tavern-keeper's wife. +</P> + +<P> +"But there are no ghosts," I argued. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-254"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-254.jpg" ALT=""But there are no ghosts," I argued." BORDER="2" WIDTH="329" HEIGHT="244"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "But there are no ghosts," I argued.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"We know that," returned Mrs. Pulsifer. "Everybody knows that, but +it's never made any difference." +</P> + +<P> +"A graveyard is a graveyard even if there is no bodies in it," said +Mrs. Spiker, planting herself behind me so as to cut off further +retreat. +</P> + +<P> +Tim must have caught some echoes of the argument on the spirit world, +for down the hill, through the darkness, came his call. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on home, Mark—I'll be back in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +I believed him, and I obeyed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XV +</H3> + + +<P> +Tim's minute? God keep me from another as long! +</P> + +<P> +I had my pipe in my chair by the fire, and knocking the ashes out, I +went to the door, and with a hand to my ear listened for his footsteps. +Tim's minutes are long! Another pipe, and the clock on the mantel +marked nine. Still I smoked on. He had had a long talk with Weston, +perhaps, and had stopped downstairs for a minute with Mary. She had +told him all. How astounded the boy must be! Why, it would take her a +half hour at least to convince him that she spoke the truth when she +told him she was to marry his wreck of a brother; then when he believed +it, another half hour would hardly be enough for him to welcome her +into the family of Hope, and to talk over the wonderful fortunes of its +sons. Doubtless he had felt it incumbent on himself to sing my +praises, for he had always been blind to my faults. In this +possibility of his tarrying to display my virtues there was some +compensation for my sitting alone, with old Captain and young Colonel, +both sleeping, and only my pipe for company. Of course, I should +really be there with Tim, but Nanny Pulsifer and Mrs. Spiker had +decreed otherwise. Who knows how great may be my reward for bringing +them safely past the graveyard! +</P> + +<P> +The third pipe snuffled out. I opened the door and listened. Tim's +minutes are long, for the last light in the village is out now. I went +to the gate and stood there till I caught the sound of foot-falls. +Then I whistled softly. There was no reply, but in a moment Perry +Thomas stepped into the light of our window. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-evening," he said cheerfully. "It's rather chilly to be +swinging on the gate." +</P> + +<P> +"I was waiting for Tim," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +Perry gave a little dry cackle. "Let's go in," he said. "It's too +cold out here to discuss these great events." +</P> + +<P> +I did not know what he meant, neither did I much care, for Perry always +treated the most trivial affairs in the most elegant language he knew. +But now that he stood there with his back to the fire, warming his +hands, he made himself more clear. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Mark," he said, "I congratulate you most heartily." +</P> + +<P> +I divined his meaning. It did not seem odd that he had learned my +secret, for I was lost in admiration of his having once weighed an +event at its proper value. So I thanked him and returned to my chair +and my pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it hurts me a bit here," said he, laying his hand on his +watch-pocket. "I had hopes at one time myself, but I fear I depended +too much on music and elocution. Do you know I'm beginnin' to think +that a man shouldn't depend so much on art with weemen. I notice them +gets along best who doesn't keep their arms entirely occupied with +gestures and workin' the fiddle." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-259"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-259.jpg" ALT=""Of course it hurts me a bit here."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="323" HEIGHT="346"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "Of course it hurts me a bit here."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Perry winked sagely at this and cackled. He rocked violently to and +fro on his feet, from heel to toe and toe to heel. +</P> + +<P> +"Yet it ain't a bit onreasonable," he went on. "The artist thinks he +is amusin' others, when, as a matter of fact, he is gettin' about +ninety per cent. of the fun himself. We allus enjoys our own singin' +best. I see that now. I thought it up as I was comin' down the road +and I concided that the next time I seen a likely lookin' Mrs. Perry +Thomas, she could do the singin' and the fiddlin' and the elocution, +and I'd set by and look on and say, 'Ain't it lovely?'" +</P> + +<P> +"You bear your disappointments bravely," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," Perry responded. "I'm used to 'em. Why, I don't know +what I'd do if I wasn't disappointed. Some day a girl will happen +along who won't disappoint me, and then I'll be so set back, I allow I +won't have courage to get outen the walley. Had I knowd yesterday how +as all the courtin' I've done since the first of last June was to come +tumblin' down on my head to-night like ceilin' plaster, not a wink of +sleep would I 'a' had. Now I know it. Does I look like I was goin' to +jump down the well? No, sir. 'Perry,' I says, 'you've had a nice time +settin' a-dreamin' of her; you've sung love-songs to her as you +followed the plough; you've pictured her at your side as you've strayed +th'oo fields of daisies and looked at the moon. Now in the natural +course of events she's goin' to marry another. When she's gettin' +peekit like trying to keep the house goin' and at the same time prevent +her seven little ones from steppin' into the cistern or fallin' down +the hay-hole, you can make up another pretty pickter with one of the +nine hundred million other weemen on this globe as the central figger!'" +</P> + +<P> +At the conclusion of this philosophic speech my visitor adjusted his +thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, brought himself to rest with a click +of his heels and smiled his defiance. +</P> + +<P> +"But I congratulate you truly, heartily," he added. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Perry," I answered. "In spite of your trifling way of +regarding women, I hope that some day you may find another as good as +Mary Warden." +</P> + +<P> +"The same to you, Mark," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"The same to me?" I cried, with a touch of resentment. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," he replied. "I says to myself to-night, 'I hope Mark is +as fortunate,' I says, when I saw them two a——" +</P> + +<P> +"What two?" I exclaimed, lifting myself half out of my chair in my +eagerness. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Tim and her," Perry answered. "Ain't you heard it yet, Mark? Am +I the first to know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tim and her," I cried. "Tim and Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Perry. +</P> + +<P> +He saw now that he was imparting strange news to me. In my sudden +agitation he divined that that news had struck hard home, and that I +was not blessed with his own philosophic nature. The smile left his +face. He stepped to me, as I sat there in the chair staring vacantly +into the fire, and laid a hand on my shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought of course you knowd it," he said gently. "I thought of +course you knowd all about it, and when I seen them up there to-night, +her a-holdin' to him so lovin', says I to myself, 'How pleased Mark +will be—he thinks so much of Tim and Mary.'" +</P> + +<P> +Tim's minute! I knew now why it was so long. I should have known it +long ago. I feared to ask Perry what he had seen. I divined it. I +had debated with myself too much the strangeness of Mary's promise, and +often in the last few days there had come over me a vague fear that I +was treading in the clouds. She had told me again and again that she +cared for me more than for anyone else in the world. But that night +when I had asked her if she loved me, she had turned my collar up. I +believed that when she spoke then it was what she thought the truth. +She had pledged herself to me and I had not demanded more. I had been +selfish enough to ask that she link herself to my narrow life, and she +had looked at me clear in the eye. "You are strong, Mark, and good, +and true," she had said, "and in all the world there is none I trust +more. I'll love you, too. I promise." +</P> + +<P> +On that promise I had built all my hopes and happiness, and it had +failed me. It was not strange. I had been a fool, a silly dreamer, +and now I had found it out. A soldier? Paugh! Away back somewhere in +the past, I had gone mad at a bugle-call. A hero? For a day. For a +day I had puffed myself up with pride at my deeds. And now those deeds +were forgotten. I was a veteran, a crippled pensioner, an humble +pedagogue, a petty farmer. This was the lot I had asked her to share. +She had made her promise, and that promise made and broken was more +than I deserved. From a heaven she had smiled down on me, and I had +climbed to the clouds, reaching out for her. Then her face was turned +from me, and down I had come, clattering to common earth, cursing +because I had hurt myself. +</P> + +<P> +I turned to my pipe and lighted it again. Old Captain came and rested +his head on my knee and looked up at me, as I stroked it slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor dog," I said. It was such a relief, and Perry misunderstood. +</P> + +<P> +"Has he been hurt?" he asked sympathetically. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," I answered, still stroking the old hound's head. "Very badly. +But he'll be all right in a few days—and we'll go on watching the +mountains—and thinking—and chasing foxes—to the end—the end that +comes to all poor dogs." +</P> + +<P> +"It's curious how attached one gets to a dog," said Perry sagely, +resuming his rocking from heel to toe and toe to heel. +</P> + +<P> +"It is curious," I said, smoking calmly. I even forced a grim smile. +</P> + +<P> +Now that I could smile, I was prepared to hear what Perry had to tell +me, for after all I had been drawing conclusions from what might prove +to be but inferences of his. But he had been so positive that in my +inmost heart I knew the import of all he had to say. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Perry," I said, "you did give me a surprise. I didn't know it, +and, to tell the truth, was taken back a bit, for it hurt me here." I +imitated his effective waistcoat-pocket gesture, which caused him much +amusement. "I had hopes myself—you know that, and as I neither +fiddled nor recited poetry your own conclusions may be wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"But Tim didn't do nothin'," Perry cackled. "He just goes away and +lets her pine. When he comes back she falls right into his arms and +gazes up into his eyes, and—" Perry stopped rocking and looked into +the fire. "You know, Mark," he said after a pause, "it must be nice +not to be disappointed." +</P> + +<P> +"It must be very nice," said I, smoking harder than ever. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I said to myself as I looked in the window and seen them." +</P> + +<P> +"You looked in the window—you peeped!" I fairly shouted, making a +hostile demonstration with a crutch. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes" said Perry, looking hurt that I should question his action +in the least. "I didn't mean to. Comin' from over the ridge I passed +Warden's and thought I'd stop in and warm up and see how Weston was. +So I stepped light along the porch, not wantin' to disturb him, and +seein' a light in the room, I looked in before I knocked. But I never +knocked, for I says to myself, 'I'll hurry down and tell Mark; it'll +please him.'" +</P> + +<A NAME="img-267"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-267.jpg" ALT=""And seein' a light in the room, I looked in."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="350" HEIGHT="586"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "And seein' a light in the room, I looked in."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"And you saw Tim and Mary," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"I should say I did," said Perry, "till I slipped away. But says I to +myself, 'It must be nice not to be disappointed.'" +</P> + +<P> +"You said you saw Tim and Mary," said I, a trifle angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"I should say I did," Perry answered, chuckling and rocking again on +his feet. "The two of 'em, standin' there in the lamplight by the +table, him a-lookin' down like he was dyin', her a-lookin' up like she +was dyin' and holdin' on to him like he was all there was left for her +in the world. It made me swaller, Mark, it made me swaller." +</P> + +<P> +There was a lump in Perry's throat at that moment, and he stopped his +rocking and turned to the fire, so his back was toward me. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you knocked," said I, after a silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I didn't," he snapped. "Do you suppose I was wanted then? +'No, sir,' I says, 'for them there is only two people in all the +world—there's Tim and there's Mary.'" +</P> + +<P> +Perry was putting on his overcoat, winding his long comforter about his +neck and drawing on his mittens. +</P> + +<P> +"To tell the truth," he said, with a forced laugh, "I don't feel as +chipper as I usually do under such like circumstances. It seems to me +you ain't so chipper as you might be, either, Mark." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-night, Perry," I said, smoking very hard. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-night," he answered. At the door he paused and gazed at me. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Mark," he said, "them two was just intended for one another—you +know it—I see you know it. God picked 'em out for one another. I +know it. You know it, too. But it's hard not to be picked +yourself—ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +Tim's minute! God keep me from such another! +</P> + +<HR WIDTH="80%"> + +<P> +It was all so plain now. The fire was dying away. The hands of the +clock were crawling off another hour, and still he did not come. But +what did I care? All in the world that I loved I had lost—Mary and my +brother—and Tim had taken both. He who had so much had come in his +strength and robbed me, left me to sit alone night after night, with my +pipe and my dogs and my crutches. Had he told me that night when I +came back to the valley that he loved the girl in all truth, I should +have stood aside and cheered him on in his struggle against her, but I +had not measured the depth of his mind nor given him credit for +cunning. Perry Thomas saw it. He had gone away from her and wounded +her by his neglect. In the fabrication of the other girl, the +beautiful Edith, whose charms so outshone all other women, he had hit +at the heart of her vanity; and now he had come back so gayly and +easily to take from me what I might not have won in a lifetime. Losing +her, I cared little that what he had done had been in ignorance that I +loved her and that she was plighted to me. Losing her, I had no +thought of blame for the girl, for when she told me that in all the +world she cared for none so much as me, she meant it, for she believed +that he had passed out of her life. +</P> + +<P> +By the fireplace, so close that I could put my hand upon the arm, was +the rocking-chair I had placed for her, and many a night had I sat +there watching it and smiling, and picturing it as it was to be when +she came. There would Mary be, sewing beneath the lamplight; there the +fire burning, with old Captain and young Colonel, snuggling along the +hearthstone; here I should be with my pipe and my book, unread, in my +lap, for we should have many things to talk of, Mary and I. We should +have Tim. As he played the great game, we should be watching his every +move. And when he won, how she and I would smile over it and say "I +told you so!" When he lost—Tim was never to lose, for Tim was +invincible! Tim was a man of brain and brawn. His arm was the +strongest in the valley; in all our country there was no face so fine +as his; in all the world few men so good and true. +</P> + +<P> +Now he had come! The chair there was empty. So it would always be. +But here I should always be with my pipe and my crutches, and the dogs +snuggling by the fire. +</P> + +<P> +Tim had come! The clock hands were crawling on and on. His minute had +better end. I hurled my pipe into the smouldering coals; I tossed a +crutch at little Colonel, and the dog ran howling from the room. Old +Captain sat up on his haunches, his slantwise eyes wide open with +wonder. +</P> + +<P> +Aye, Captain, men are strange creatures. Their moods will change with +every clock-tick. One moment your master sits smoking and watching the +flames—the next he is tearing hatless from the house; and it is cold +outside and the wind in the chimney is tumbling down the soot. When +the wind sings like that in the chimney, it is sweeping full and sharp +down the village street, and across the flats by the graveyard, whither +he goes hobbling. +</P> + +<P> +Little Colonel comes cautiously into the room, hugging the wall till he +is back at the fireside. With his head between his fore-paws and one +eye closed, he watches the tiny tongue of flame licking up the last +coal. There are worse lives than a dog's. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVI +</H3> + + +<P> +Tim came whistling down the road. He whistled full and clear, and +while he was still at the turn of the hill the wind brought me a bit of +his rollicking tune as I huddled on the school-house steps, waiting. +The world was going well with him. He had all that the wise count +good; he was winning what the foolish count better. With head high and +swinging arms he came on, the beat of his feet on the hard road keeping +time to his gay whistling. Tim was winning in the game. While his +brother was droning over the reader and the spelling-book with +two-score leather-headed children, he was fighting his way upward in +the world of commerce. While his brother was wringing a living from a +few acres of niggardly soil and a little school, he was on the road to +riches; while his brother was wrangling with the worthies of the store +over the momentous problems of the day, he was where those problems +were being worked out and standing by the men who were solving them. +All in this world worth having was Tim's, and now even what was his +brother's he had taken. To him that hath! From him that hath not! He +had all. I had nothing. Now as he came swinging on so carelessly, I +knew that I had lost even him. +</P> + +<P> +Never once had there come to my mind the thought of doing my brother +any bodily harm. My emotions were too conflicting for me to know just +why I had come at all into the night to meet him. Now it was against +him that the violence of my anger would vent itself. Now it was +against myself, and I cursed myself for an idle, dreaming fool. Then +came over me, overwhelming me, a sense of my own utter loneliness, and +against it Tim stood out so bold and clear-cut and strong; that I felt +myself crying out to him not to desert me and let a woman take him from +me. I thought of the old days when he and I had been all in all to +each other, and I hated the woman who had come between us, who had +lured me from him, who had lured him from me. Then as against my +misery, she stood out so bold and good, so wholly fair, that I cursed +Tim for taking her from me. I wanted to see him in the full heat of my +anger to tell him to his face how he had served me; to stand before him +an accuser till he slunk from me and left me alone, as I would be alone +from now to the end. +</P> + +<P> +So I had quickened my pace, hobbling up the starlit road to the +school-house. There I was driven by sheer exhaustion to the shelter of +the doorway, and in the narrow refuge I huddled, waiting and listening. +The keen wind found me out and seemed to take joy in rushing in on me +in biting gusts and then whirling away over the flat. By and by it +brought me the rollicking air my brother whistled, and then came the +sound of foot-falls. In a moment he would be passing, and I arose, +intending to hail him. It was easy enough when I heard only his +whistling to picture myself confrating him in anger, but now that in +the starlight I could see his dark form coming nearer and nearer; now +that he had broken into a snatch of a song we had often sung together, +my courage failed me and I slunk farther into my retreat. +</P> + +<P> +So Tim passed me. He went on toward the village, singing cheerfully +for company's sake, and I stood alone, in the shadow of the +school-house woods, listening. His song died away. I fancied I heard +the beat of his stick on the bridge; then there was silence. +</P> + +<P> +I turned. Through the pines on the eastward ridge the moon was +climbing, and now the white road stretched away before me. It was the +road to her house. The light that gleamed at the head of the hill was +her light, and many a night in this same spot I had stopped to take a +last look at it. It used to wink so softly to me as I waved a hand in +good-night. Now it seemed to leer. The friendly beacon on the hill +had become a wrecker's lantern. A battered hulk of a man, here I was, +stranded by the school-house. As the ship on the beach pounds +helplessly to and fro, now trying to drive itself farther into its +prison, now struggling to break the chains that hold it, so tossed +about my love and anger, I turned my face now toward the hill, now +toward the village. The same impulse that caused me to draw into the +darkness of the doorway instead of facing Tim made it impossible for me +to follow him home. Angry though I was, I wanted no quarrel, yet I +feared to meet him lest my temper should burst its bounds. But I had a +bitter wind to deal with, too, and if I could not go home, neither +could I stand longer in the road, turning in my quandary from the +beacon on the hill, where she was, to the light that gleamed in our +window in the village, where he was. +</P> + +<P> +The school-house gave me shelter. I groped my way to my desk and there +sank into my chair, leaned my head on my hands, and closed my eyes. I +wanted to shut out all the world. Here in the friendly darkness, in +the quiet of the night, I could think it all out. I could place myself +on trial, and starting at the beginning, retracing my life step by +step, I would find again the course my best self had laid down for me +to follow. For the moment I had lost that clear way. Blinded by my +seeming woes, I had been groping for it, and I had searched in vain. +But now the dizziness was going, and as I sat there in the darkness, my +eyes closed to shut out even the blackness about me, the light came. +</P> + +<P> +After a long while I looked up to see the moon high over the pines on +the eastward ridge, and its yellow light poured into the room, casting +dim shadows over the white walls, and bringing up before me row on row +of spectre desks. The chair I sat in, the table on which I leaned were +real enough. They were part of my to-day, but that dim-lighted room +was the school-house of my boyhood. The fourth of those spectre desks +measuring back from the stove, was where Tim and I sat day after day +together, with heads bowed over open books and eyes aslant. That was +not the same Tim who had passed me a while before, swaggering and +singing in the joy of his conquest; that was not the same Tim who had +stood before me that very afternoon in all the pomp of well-cut +clothes, drawing on his whitened hands a pair of woman's gloves; that +was not the same Tim who by his artful lies had won what had been +denied my stupid, blundering devotion. My Tim was a sturdy little +fellow whose booted legs scarce touched the floor, whose tousled black +head hardly showed above the desk-top. His cheeks would turn crimson +at the thought of woman's gloves on those brown hands. His tongue +would cleave to his mouth in a woman's presence, let alone his lying to +her. That was the real Tim—the rare Tim. To my eyes he was but a +small boy; to my mind he was a mighty man. The first reader that +presented such knotty problems to his intellectual side was but part of +the impedimenta of his youth, and was no fair measure of his real size. +That very day he had fought with me and for me; not because I was in +the right, but because I was his brother. +</P> + +<P> +A lean, cadaverous boy from along the mountain, a born enemy of the +lads of the village, had dared me. I endured his insults until the +time came when further forbearance would have been a disgrace, and then +I closed with him. In the front of the little circle drawn about us, +right outside there in the school-yard, Tim stood. As we pitched to +and fro, the cadaverous boy and I, Tim's shrill cry came to me, and +time and again I caught sight of his white face and small clinched +hands waving wildly. I believe I should have whipped the cadaverous +boy. I had suffered his foul kicks and borne him to the ground; in a +second I should have planted him fairly on his back, but his brother, +like him a lank, wiry lad and singly more than my match, ran at me. My +head swam beneath his blows, and I released my almost vanquished enemy +to face the new foe with upraised fists. Then Tim came. A black head +shot between me and my towering assailant. It caught him full in the +middle; he doubled like a staple and with a cry of pain toppled into +the snow. This gave me a brief respite to compel my fallen enemy to +capitulate, and when I turned from him, his brother was still +staggering about in drunken fashion, gasping and crying, "Foul!" Tim +did not know what he meant, but was standing alert, with head lowered, +ready to charge again at the first sign of renewed attack. He knew +neither "fight foul" nor "fight fair"; he knew only a brother in +trouble, and he had come to him in his best might. +</P> + +<P> +That was the real Tim! +</P> + +<P> +"I guess me and you can whip most anybody, Mark," he said, as he looked +up at me from his silly spelling-book that day. +</P> + +<P> +"As long as we stick together, Tim," I whispered in return. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed. Of course we would always stand together. +</P> + +<P> +That was long ago. Life is an everlasting waking up. We leave behind +us an endless trail of dreams. The real life is but a waking moment. +After all, it was the real Tim who had gone singing by as I crouched in +the shadow of the school-house. The comrade of my school-days, who had +fought for me with eyes closed and with the fury of a child, the +companion of the hunt, racing with me over the ridges with Captain +singing on before us, the brother at the fireside at night, poring over +some rare novel—he was only a phantom. Between me and the real man +there was no bond. He had grown above the valley; I was becoming more +and more a part of it, like the lone pine on Gander Knob, or the +piebald horse that drew the stage. His clothes alone had made wider +the breach between us. At first I had admired him. I was proud of my +brother. But Solomon in all his glory was dressed in his best; from +Dives to Lazarus is largely a matter of garments. Tim had made himself +just a bit better than I, when he donned his well-fitting suit and +pulled on his silly gloves. Beside him I was a coarse fellow, and to +me he was not the old Tim. +</P> + +<P> +This fine man had come back to the valley to take from me all that made +life good. He had struck me over the heart and stunned me and then +gone singing by. In Mary's eyes he was the better man of the two. To +my eyes he was, and I hated him for it. He could go his way and I +should go mine, for we must stand alone. In the morning he would go +away and leave me with the Tim I loved, with the boy who sat with me at +yonder desk, who raced with me over the ridges, who read with me at the +fireside. +</P> + +<P> +The shadows deepened in the school-room, for a curtain of clouds was +sweeping across the moon. Peering through the window, over the flats, +I saw a light gleaming steadily at the head of the village street. It +was my light burning in the window, and I knew that Tim was there, +waiting for me. All the past rose up to tell me that he was still the +comrade of my school-days, my companion of the hunt, my brother of the +fireside. +</P> + +<P> +My head sank to the table and my hands clasped my eyes to shut out the +blackness. But the blackness came again. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVII +</H3> + + +<P> +Tip Pulsifer leaned on my gate. Crowning the post at his side was his +travelling bandanna, into which he had securely clasped by one great +knot all his portable possessions. It was very early in the morning, +in that half-dark and half-dawn time, when the muffled crowing begins +to sound from the village barns and the dogs crawl forth from their +barrels and survey the deserted street and yawn. Tip was not usually +abroad so early, but in his travelling bandanna and solemn face, as he +leaned on his elbows and smoked and smoked, I saw his reason for +getting out with the sun. He was taking flight. The annual Pulsifer +tragedy had occurred; the head of the house had tied together his few +goods, and, vowing never to trouble his wife again, had set his face +toward the mountain. But on my part I had every reason to believe that +Tip would show surprise when I hobbled forth from the misty gloom. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-286"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-286.jpg" ALT="Tip Pulsifer leaned on my gate." BORDER="2" WIDTH="173" HEIGHT="379"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Tip Pulsifer leaned on my gate.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Just a few minutes before I had awakened. I had lifted my head from my +desk, half-dazed, and gazed around the school-room. I had rubbed my +eyes to drive away the veils that hid my scholars from me. I had +pounded the floor with a crutch and cried: "It's books." The silence +answered me. I had not been napping in school, nor was I dreaming. +The long, miserable night flashed back to me, and I stamped into the +misty morning. Weary and dishevelled, I was crawling home, purposeless +as ever, now vowing I would break with my brother, now quickening my +steps that I might sooner wish him all the joy a brother should. A few +dogs greeted me and then Tip, calmly smoking as though it were my usual +time to be about of a morning. +</P> + +<P> +"You are going over the mountain, Tip?" said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he answered, throwing open the gate. "This is the last Six +Stars will see of me. I'm done. The missus was a-yammerin' and +a-yammerin' all day yesterday. If it wasn't this, it was that she was +yammerin' about. Says I, 'I'm done. I'm sorry,' says I, 'but I'm +done.' At the first peek of day I starts over the mountain. This is +as fur as I've got. You've kep' me waitin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Me—I've kept you waiting?" I cried. "Do you think I'm going over the +mountain, too?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Tip, with a grim chuckle. "You ain't married. You've +nothin' to run from, 'less you've been yammerin' at yourself; then the +mountain won't do you no good. I didn't figure on your company, but +Tim kep' me." +</P> + +<P> +"Is Tim out at this hour?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"At this hour?" Tip retorted. "You'll have to get up earlier to catch +him. He's gone—up and gone—he is." +</P> + +<P> +I sat down very abruptly on the door-step. "Tim gone?" I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Gone—and he told me to wait and say good-by to you—to tell you he'd +set late last night for you, till he fell asleep. He was sleepin' when +I come, Mark. I peeped in the window and there he was, in that chair +of yours, fast asleep. I rapped on the window and he woke up with a +jump. He was off on the early train, he said, and had just time to +cover the twelve mile with that three-legged livery horse that brought +him out. He was awful put out at not findin' you. He thought you was +in bed, but you wasn't, and I told him mebbe you'd gone up to the +Warden's to lend a hand with Weston." +</P> + +<P> +For the first time Tip eyed me inquisitively. +</P> + +<P> +"I was up the road," I said evasively. "But tell me about Tim—did he +leave no word?" +</P> + +<P> +"He left me," said Tip, grinning. "He hadn't time to leave nothin' +else. We figgered he'd just cover that twelve mile and make the train. +That's why I'm here. As we was hitchin' he told me particular to wait +till you come; to tell you good-by; to tell you he'd watched all +night—waited and waited till he fell asleep." +</P> + +<P> +"And overslept in the morning so he had no time to drop me even a +line—I understand," said I. "And now, Tip, having performed your +duty, you are going over the mountain?" +</P> + +<P> +"To Happy Walley," Tip cried, lifting the stick he always carried in +these nights and pointing away toward Thunder Knob. "I'm done with +Black Log. I'm goin' where there is peace and quiet." +</P> + +<P> +"You lead the life of a hermit?" I suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"A what?" Tip exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"You live in a cave in the woods and eat roots and nuts and meditate," +I explained. +</P> + +<P> +"You think I'm a squirrel," snapped the fugitive. "No, sir, I live +with my cousin John Shadrack's widder." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" I cried. "It's plain now, Tip, you deceiver. So there's the +attraction." +</P> + +<P> +"The attraction?" Tip's brow was furrowed. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. John Shadrack," I said. +</P> + +<P> +The fugitive broke into a loud guffaw. He leaned over the gate and let +his pipe fall on the other side and beat the post violently with his +hands. +</P> + +<P> +"I allow you've never seen John Shadrack's widder," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to, Tip. Will you take me with you to Happy Valley?" +</P> + +<P> +The smile left Tip's face, and he gazed at me, open-mouthed with +astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"You would go over the mountain?" he said, drawling every word. +</P> + +<P> +Over the mountain there is peace! It is cold and gray there in the +early morning, and the hills are bleak and black, but I remember days +when from this same spot I've watched the deep, soft blue and green; +I've sat here as the hills were glowing in the changing evening lights +and our valley grew dark and cold. What a fair country that must be +where the sun sets! And we stay here in our dim light, in our dull +monotones, when, to the westward, there's a land all capped with clouds +of red and gold. There is Tip's Valley of Peace. John Shadrack's +widow may not be a celestial being, but that is my sunset country. In +journeying to it, I shall leave myself behind; in the joy of the road, +in the changing landscape and skyscape, in the swing of the buggy and +the rattle of the wheels, I shall forget myself and Mary and Tim for a +time, and when I come back it will be with wound unhealed, but the +throbbing pain will have passed, and I can face them with eyes clear +and speech unfaltering. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go with you to Happy Valley, Tip," I said, rising and turning to +the door. "You hitch the gray colt in the buggy and——" +</P> + +<P> +"We are goin' to ride," cried Tip. He had always made his flights +afoot before that, and the prospect of an easy journey caused him to +smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think I'll walk?" I growled. "Get the gray colt and I'll give +you a lift over the mountain, but I'll bring you back on Monday, too." +Tip shook his head sullenly at this threat. "While you hitch, I'll +drop a line to Perry Thomas to take the school. Now hurry." +</P> + +<P> +Tip shuffled away to the barn, and I went into the house, and, after +making a hasty breakfast and getting together a few clothes, sat down +at the table, where Tim had rested his drowsy head all night. I wrote +two notes. One was to Perry and was very brief. The other was brief, +but it was to Mary. When I took up the pen it was to tell her all I +knew and felt. When at last I sealed the envelope it was on a single +sheet of paper, bearing a few formal words, while the scuttle by the +fireplace held all my fine sentiments in the torn slips of paper I had +tossed there. I told Mary that I knew that she did not care for me and +had found herself out. If it was her wish, we would begin again where +we were that night when I saw her first, and I would guide myself into +the future all alone, half happy anyway in the knowledge that it was +best for her and best for Tim. Was I wrong, a single word would bring +me back. I was to be away for three days, and when I returned I should +look by the door-sill for her answer. If none was there, it was all I +had a right to expect. If one was there—I quit writing then—it +seemed so hopeless. +</P> + +<HR WIDTH="80%"> + +<P> +Tip and I crossed Thunder Knob at noon. As we turned the crest of the +hill and began the descent into the wooded gut, my companion looked +back and waved his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-by to Black Log," he cried. "It's the last I'll ever see of you." +</P> + +<P> +He turned to me and tried to smile, but a deep-set frown took +possession of his face, and he hung his head in silence, watching the +wheels as we jolted on and on. +</P> + +<P> +We wound down the steep way into the gut, following a road that at +times seemed to disappear altogether, and leave us to break our way +through the underbrush. Then it reappeared in a broken corduroy that +bridged a bog for a mile, and lifted itself plainly into view again +with a stony back where we began to climb the second mountain. The sun +was ahead of us when we reached the crest of that long hill. Behind +us, Thunder Knob lifted its rocky head, hiding from us the valley of +our troubles. Before us, miles away, all capped with clouds of gold +and red was the sunset country, but still beyond the mountains. The +gray colt halted to catch his breath, and with the whip I pointed to +the west, glowing with the warm evening fires. +</P> + +<P> +"Yonder's Happy Valley, Tip," I said, "miles away still. It will take +us another day to reach it." +</P> + +<P> +"It will take you forever to reach it," was the half-growled retort. +"I ain't chasin' sunsets. Here's Happy Walley—my Happy Walley, right +below us, and the smoke you see curlin' up th'oo the trees is from the +John Shadrack clearin'." +</P> + +<P> +A great wall, hardly a mile away, as the crow flies, the third mountain +rose, bare and forbidding. Below us, a narrow strip of evergreen wound +away to the south as far as our eyes could reach, and at wide intervals +thin columns of smoke sifting through the trees marked the abodes of +the dwellers of Tip's Elysium. Peace must be there, if peace dwells in +a land where all that breaks the stillness seems the drifting of the +smoke through the pine boughs. The mountain's shadow was over it and +deepening fast, warning us to hurry before the road was lost in +blackness. But away off there in the west, where a half score of peaks +lifted their summits above the nearer ranges, all purple and gold and +red, a heap of cloud coals glowed warm and beautiful over the sunset +land. My heart yearned for that land, but I had to turn from the +contemplation of its distant joys to the cold, gloomy reality below me. +</P> + +<P> +The whip fell sharply across the gray colt's back, and he jumped ahead. +Down the steep slope, over rocks and ruts we clattered, the buggy +swinging to and fro, and Tip holding fast with both hands, muttering +warnings. The gray colt broke into a run. All my strength failed to +check him. Faster and faster we went, and now Tip was swearing. I +prayed for a level stretch or a bit of a hill, for the wagon had run +away too, and where the wagon and the horse join in a mad flight there +must come a sudden ending to their career. The mountain-road offered +me no hope. Steeper and steeper it was as we dashed on. Tip became +very quiet. Once I glanced from the fleeing horse to him, and I saw +that his face was white and set. +</P> + +<P> +"Get out, Tip," I cried. "Jump back, over the seat." +</P> + +<P> +"Not me," said he, grimly. "We come to Happy Walley together, me and +you, and together we'll finish the trip." +</P> + +<P> +He lent a hand on the reins, but it was useless, for the wagon and the +horse were running away together, and there was nothing to do but to +try to guide them. +</P> + +<P> +"Pull closer to the bank at the bend ahead," Tip cried. +</P> + +<P> +Almost before the warning passed his lips we had shot around the +projecting rock, where the road had been cut from the mountain-side. +We were near our journey's end then, for at the foot of the embankment +that sheered down at our left we heard the swish of a mountain-stream. +The horse went down. There was a cry from Tip—a sound of splintering +wood—something seemed to strike me a brutal blow. Then I lay back, +careless, fearless, and was rocked to sleep. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-296"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-296.jpg" ALT="The horse went down." BORDER="2" WIDTH="321" HEIGHT="310"> +<H4> +[Illustration: The horse went down.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVIII +</H3> + + +<P> +She sat smoking. +</P> + +<P> +Had I never heard of her before, had I opened my eyes as I did that day +to see her sitting before me, I should have exclaimed, "It's John +Shadrack's widder!" +</P> + +<P> +So, with the crayon portrait, gilt-framed, that hung on the wall behind +her, I should have cried, "And that is John Shadrack!" +</P> + +<P> +This crayon "enlargement" presented John with very black skin and +spotless white hair. His head was tilted back in a manner that made +the great bushy beard seem to stick right out from the frame, and gave +the impression that the old man was choking down a fit of uproarious +laughter. I knew, of course, that he had been posed that way to better +show his collar and cravat. Though Tip had described him to me as a +rather gloomy, taciturn person, the impression gained in the long +contemplation of his picture as I lay helpless on the bed never +changed. To me he was the ideal citizen of Happy Valley, and the +acquaintance I formed then and there with his wife served only to +endear him to me. +</P> + +<P> +She sat smoking. I contemplated her a very long while and she gazed +calmly back. A score of times I tried to speak, but something failed +me, and when I attempted to wave my hand in greeting to her I could not +lift it from the bed. +</P> + +<P> +At last strength came. +</P> + +<P> +"This is John Shadrack's house?" I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said she, "and I'm his widder." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-299"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-299.jpg" ALT=""And I'm his widder."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="532" HEIGHT="386"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "And I'm his widder."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +She came to my side and stood looking down at me very hard. I saw a +woman in the indefinable seasons past fifty. In my vague mental +condition, the impression of her came slowly. First it was as though I +saw three cubes, one above the other, the largest in the middle. Then +these took on clothing, blue calico with large polka dots, and the +topmost one crowned itself with thin wisps of hair, parted in the +middle and plastered down at the side. So, little by little, John +Shadrack's widow grew on me, till I saw her a square little old woman, +with a wrinkled, brown face, a perpetual smile and a pipe that snuffled +in a homely, comfortable way. +</P> + +<P> +I smiled. You couldn't help smiling when Mrs. John Shadrack looked +down at you. +</P> + +<P> +"It's been such a treat to have you," she cried. "I've been enjoyin' +every minute of your visit." +</P> + +<P> +This was puzzling. How long Mrs. John Shadrack had been entertaining +me, or I had been entertaining her, I had not the remotest idea. A +very long while ago I had seen a spire of smoke curling through the +trees in Happy Valley, and I had been told that it was from her hearth. +Then we had gone plunging madly down the hill to it, Tip, the gray colt +and I. We had turned a sharp bend, we had heard the swish of a +mountain-stream. There my memory failed me. I had awakened to find +myself helpless on a bed, strangely hard, but, oh, so restful! Then +she had appeared, sitting there smoking. +</P> + +<P> +"You are the first stranger as has been here since the tax collector +last month," she said, beginning to clear away the mystery. "I love +strangers." +</P> + +<P> +"How long have I been here?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Since last Wednesday," she answered. +</P> + +<P> +"And this is what?" +</P> + +<P> +"The next Saturday. I've had you three days. You was a bit wrong here +sometimes." She tapped her head solemnly. "But I powwowed." +</P> + +<P> +"You powwowed me," I cried with all the spirit I could muster, for such +treatment was not to my liking. I never had any faith in charms. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," she replied. "Does you think I'd let you die? Why, when +me and Tip pulled you out of the creek you was a sight, you was, and +you was wrong here." Again she tapped her head. "You needn't +complain. Ain't you gittin' well agin? Didn't the powwow do it?" +</P> + +<P> +Hardly, I thought. I must have recovered in spite of it. But the old +woman spoke with pride of her skill, and if she had not saved me by her +occult powers, she had at least helped to drag me from the creek. For +that I was grateful, so I smiled to show my thanks. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you powwow for?" I asked, after a long while. +</P> + +<P> +She had seated herself on the edge of the bed and was contemplating me +gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Everything," she answered. "I never had a case like yours. I never +had a patient who was run away with, and kicked on the head, and +drownded. So I says to Tip, I says, 'I'll do everything. I'll treat +for asthmy, erysipelas and pneumony, rheumatism and snake-bite, for the +yallers and——'" +</P> + +<P> +"Hold on," I pleaded. "I haven't had all that." +</P> + +<P> +"You mought have had any one of 'em," she said firmly. "You should 'a' +seen yourself when we found you down there in the creek. Can't you +feel that bandage?" She lifted my hand to my head gently. I seemed to +have a great turban crowning me. "That's where you was kicked," she +went on. "You otter 'a' seen that spot. I used my Modern Miracle +Salve there. It's worked wonderful, it has. I was sorry you had no +bones broken so I could 'a' tried it for them, too." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm satisfied with what I have," said I quietly. "It was pretty lucky +I got off as well as I did after a runaway, and the creek and the +kick." Then, to myself, I added, "And the powwowing and the salve." +</P> + +<P> +I tried to lift my head, but could not. At first I thought it was the +turban, but a sharp pain told me that there was a spot there that might +be well worth seeing. For a long time I lay with my eyes closed, +trying not to care, and when I opened them again, John Shadrack's widow +was still on the edge of the bed, smoking. +</P> + +<P> +"Feel better now?" she asked calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," I answered. "The ache has gone some." +</P> + +<P> +"I was powwowin' agin!" she said. "Couldn't you hear me saying Dutch +words? Them was the charm." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I was sleeping," I returned a bit irritably. +</P> + +<P> +How the store would have smiled could it have seen me there on the bed, +in that bare little room in John Shadrack's widow's clutches! Many a +night, around the stove, Isaac Bolum, and Henry Holmes and I had had it +tooth and nail over the power of the powwow. In the store there was +not always an outspoken belief in the efficacy of the charm, but there +was an undercurrent of sentiment in favor of the supernatural. Against +this I had fought. Perhaps it was merely for the joy of the argument +that so often I had turned a fire of ridicule on the dearest traditions +of the valley. Time and again, when some credulous one had lifted his +voice in honest support of a silly superstition, I had jeered him into +a grumbled, shamefaced disavowal. Once I sat in the graveyard at +midnight, in the full of the moon, just to convince Ira Spoonholler +that his grandfather was keeping close to his proper plot. And here I +was, prone and helpless, being powwowed not for one ailment, but for +all the diseases known in Happy Valley. How I blessed Tip! When we +started he should have told me of the powers of our hostess. I would +rather have undergone a hundred runaways than one week with that old +woman muttering her Dutch over my senseless form. But I liked the good +soul. Her intentions were so excellent. She was so cheery. Even now +she was offering me a piece of gingerbread. +</P> + +<P> +I ate it ravenously. +</P> + +<P> +Then I asked, "Where is Tip?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's gone down the walley to my brother-in-law, Harmon Shadrack's. +He's tryin' to borry a me-yule." +</P> + +<P> +"A what?" +</P> + +<P> +"A me-yule. The colt was dead beside you in the creek. Him and me +fixed up the buggy agin, and he's gone to borry Harmon's me-yule so as +you uns can git back to Black Log." +</P> + +<P> +"Tip's left Black Log forever," I said firmly. +</P> + +<P> +Then John Shadrack's widow laughed. She laughed so hard that she blew +the ashes out of her pipe, and they showered down over my face, and +made me wink and sputter. +</P> + +<P> +"There—there," she said solicitously, dusting them away with her hand. +"But it tickled me so to hear you say Tip wasn't goin' back. Why, he's +been most crazy since you come. He's afraid his wife'll marry agin +before he gits home. I've been tellin' him how nice it was to have you +both, and that jest makes him roar. He's never been away so long +before." +</P> + +<P> +"He thinks maybe Nanny will give him up this time?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exact." +</P> + +<P> +The old woman smoked in silence a long while. Then she said suddenly, +"She must be a lovely woman." +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Tip's wife." +</P> + +<P> +"Who told you?" I demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Tip." +</P> + +<P> +This was strange in a fugitive husband, one who had fled across the +mountains to escape a perpetual yammering. +</P> + +<P> +"Tip!" I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Tip," she answered. "Him and me was settin' there in the kitchen +last night, and you was sleepin' away in here, and he told me all about +Black Log. It must be a lovely place—Black Log—so different from +Happy Walley. There's no folks here, that's the trouble. There's +Harmonses a mile down the walley, and below him there's the Spinks a +mile, and up the walley across the run there's my brother, Joe Smith, +and his family—but we don't often have strangers here. The tax +collector, he was up last month, and then you come. You have been a +treat. I ain't enjoyed anything so much for a long time. There's +nothin' like company." +</P> + +<P> +"Even when it can't talk?" I said. +</P> + +<P> +"But I could powwow," she answered cheerily. "Between fixin' up the +buggy, and cookin' and makin' you and Tip comfortable and powwowin' +you, I ain't had a minute's time to think—it's lovely." +</P> + +<P> +"What has Tip been doing all this while?" +</P> + +<P> +"Talkin' about his wife. She <I>must</I> be nice. Did you ever hear her +sing?" +</P> + +<P> +"I should say I had," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +The whining strains of "Jordan's Strand" came wandering out of the +past, out of the kitchen, joining with the sizzle of the cooking and +the clatter of the pans. +</P> + +<P> +"I should say I had," I said again. +</P> + +<P> +"She must be a splendid singer," John Shadrack's widow exclaimed with +much enthusiasm. "Tip says she has one of the best tenor voices they +is. He says sometimes he can hear her clean from his clearin' down to +your barn." +</P> + +<P> +"Farther," said I. "All the way to the school-house." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! Now that's nice. I allow she must be very handsome." +</P> + +<P> +"Handsome?" said I, a bit incredulous. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Tip says she's the best-lookin' woman in the walley, and that +she's a terrible tasty dresser." +</P> + +<P> +"Terrible," I muttered. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! Now that's nice. And is she spare or fleshy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Medium," I said. "Just right." +</P> + +<P> +"That's nice. But what'll she run to? It makes a heap of difference +to a woman what she runs to. Now I naterally take on." +</P> + +<P> +"I should say Nanny Pulsifer would naturally lose weight," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +"That's nice. It's so much better to run to that—it's easier gittin' +around. Tip says she has a be-yutiful figger. There's nothin' like +figger. If there's anythin' I hate to see it's a first-class gingham +fittin' a woman like it was hung there to air. But about Tip's wife +agin—she must have a lovely disposition?" +</P> + +<P> +"Splendid," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what Tip says. He told me that oncet in a while when he was +kind of low-down she'd git het-up and spited like, but ordinarily, he +says, she's jest a-singin' and a-singin' and makin' him comf'table and +helpin' the children. And them children! I'm jest longin' to see 'em. +They must be lovely." +</P> + +<P> +"From what Tip says," I interjected. +</P> + +<P> +"From what Tip says," she went on. "He was tellin' me about Earl and +Alice Eliza, and Pearl and Cevery and the rest of 'em. He says it's +jest a pickter to see 'em all in bed together—a perfect pickter." +</P> + +<P> +"A perfect picture," said I sleepily. +</P> + +<P> +"Tip must have a lovely home. Why, he tells me they have a +sewin'-machine." +</P> + +<P> +"Lovely," said I. "And a spring-bed." +</P> + +<P> +"And a double-heater stove," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"And an accordion," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"And a washin'-machine," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"And two hogs." +</P> + +<P> +"And he tells me he's going to git her a melodium." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed," said I. "Why, I thought he was never going back." +</P> + +<P> +"To sech a lovely home?" The old woman held up her hands. "He's goin' +jest as soon as he gets that me-yule and you're able." She laid her +hand on my forehead. "There," she cried, "it's painin' you again, poor +thing—that terrible spot." +</P> + +<P> +It was hurting, despite the Modern Miracle, and I closed my eyes to +bear it better. Over me, away off, as if from the heavens, I heard a +sonorous rumble of mystery words. I felt a hand softly stroking my +brow. But I didn't care. It was only Dutch, a foolish charm, a +heritage of barbarity and ignorance, but I was too weary to protest. +It entertained John Shadrack's widow, and I was going to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Tip was waiting for me to awake. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got the mule," he said, when I opened my eyes, "and I thought you +was never goin' to quit sleepin'; I thought the widder was joshin' me +when she said you was all right; I thought mebbe she had drumpt it, she +sees so much in dreams." +</P> + +<P> +"What day is this?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Sunday," Tip answered. "I 'low we'll start at daybreak to-morrow, and +by sundown we'll be in Six Stars." +</P> + +<P> +"In Six Stars!" said I. "I thought you'd left Six Stars forever." +</P> + +<P> +"That ain't here nor there," he snapped. "I've got to git you back." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you won't go to-morrow," said I. "Look here—I can just lift my +hands to my head—that's all. It'll take a whole week's powwowing to +get me to sit up even." +</P> + +<P> +"What did I tell you, Tip?" cried John Shadrack's widow. She handed me +a piece of gingerbread just to chew on till she got some breakfast for +me, and while I munched it, Tip and I argued it out. +</P> + +<P> +"Nanny'll think I've left her," Tip said. +</P> + +<P> +"You did, Tip," said I. "You ran away forever." +</P> + +<P> +"She'll be gittin' married agin," pleaded Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"Serves you right," said I. Then, to myself, "Not unless the other +man's an utter stranger." +</P> + +<P> +"She hasn't enough wood chopped to last a week," said Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"She chopped the last wood-pile herself," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"There's Cevery," pleaded Tip. "Cevery never done me no harm, and +who'll dandle him?" +</P> + +<P> +"The same good soul that dandled him the day you rode over the +mountain," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +"But it's a good half mile from our house to the spring," Tip said, +"and who'll carry the water?" +</P> + +<P> +"Earl and Pearl and Alice Eliza," I replied. "They've always done it; +why worry now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I don't care nohow," Tip cried, stamping the floor. "I want to +go back to Black Log." +</P> + +<P> +"So do I, Tip," I said; "but—there's that bad spot on my head again." +</P> + +<P> +"Now see what you've done with your argyin', Tip Pulsifer," cried the +old woman, running to me. "Poor thing—ain't the Miracle workin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"I guess it is, but that's an awful bad spot—that's right, Widow, +powwow it." +</P> + +<HR WIDTH="80%"> + +<P> +For ten long days more Mrs. Tip Pulsifer chopped her own wood, Cevery +went undandled, and Earl and Pearl and Alice Eliza carried the water +that half mile from the spring. For nine long days more John +Shadrack's widow entertained the two strangers who had sought a refuge +in Happy Valley, and found it. Rare pleasure did John Shadrack's widow +have from our visit. There seemed no way she could repay us. It did +her old heart good to have someone to whom she could recount the +manifold virtues of her John—and a wonderful man John was, I judge. +Had I not come, she might have lost the Heaven-given gift of powwowing, +for there is no sickness in Happy Valley—the people die without it. +It was a pleasure to have Mark settin' around the kitchen; it was +elevatin' to hear Tip tell of his home and his wife and children; and +as for cooking, it was no pleasure to cook for just one. +</P> + +<P> +"You must come agin," she cried, on the morning of that ninth day, as +she stood in the doorway of her little log-house and waved her apron at +us. "It's been a treat to have you." +</P> + +<P> +So we went away, Tip and I, with Harmon Shadrack's mule and the +battered buggy. Our backs were turned to the Sunset Land. Our faces +were toward the East and the red glow of the early morning. When we +saw Thunder Knob again, Happy Valley was far below us, and only the +thin spire of smoke drifting through the pines marked the Shadrack +clearing. I kissed my hand in farewell salute to it. Perhaps John's +widow saw me—she sees so much in her dreams. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no place like Black Log," said Tip, as we turned the crest of +Thunder Knob. "Mind how pretty it is—mind the shadders on the ridge +yon—and them white barns. Mind the big creek—there by the kivered +bridge—ain't it gleamin' cheerful? There's no place like our walley." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIX +</H3> + + +<P> +It was dark when I reached home. Opening the door, I groped my way +across the room till I found the lamp and lighted it. Then I sat down +a minute to think. Two weeks is a very short time, but when you have +been over the mountains and back, when you have hovered for days close +to the banks of the Styx, when you have huddled for days close to the +Shadrack stove, listening to the widow's stories of her John and Tip's +praise of his wife, then a fortnight seems an age. But everything was +as I had left it. Even the pen leaned against the inkwell and the +scraps of paper littered the floor where I had tossed them that +morning, when Tip and I started over the mountain. Those scraps were +part of the letter I did not send to Mary. They flashed to me the +thought of the one I had sent, and of the answer I never expected. It +was foolish to look, but I had told her to slip her note under the +door, if she did send it, and I was taking no chances. Seizing the +lamp, I hobbled to the kitchen, and laughing to myself at the whole +absurd proceeding, leaned over and swept the floor with the light. +</P> + +<P> +Right on the sill it lay, a small white envelope! I did not waste time +hobbling back to my chair and the table. I sat right down on the floor +with the lamp at my side, and tore open the note and read it. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Mark. Please come to me." +</P> + +<P> +That was all she said. It was enough. It was all I wanted in the +world. +</P> + +<P> +Once I had been disappointed, but now there was no mistaking it. +Upside down, backward and forward I read it, right side up and +criss-cross, rubbing my eyes a half a hundred times, but there was her +appeal—no question of it. After all, all was well. And when Mary +calls I must go, even if I have crossed two mountains and am +supperless. All the bitterness had gone. All those days of brooding +were forgotten, for I could go again up the road, my white road, to the +hill, and the light there would burn for me. +</P> + +<P> +Then Tim came! +</P> + +<A NAME="img-319"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-319.jpg" ALT="Then Tim came." BORDER="2" WIDTH="330" HEIGHT="369"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Then Tim came.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +I was still sitting on the floor when he came, reading the note over +and over, with the lamp beside me. +</P> + +<P> +With Captain and Colonel at his heels he burst in upon me. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Mark, you scoundrel," he cried, laughing, as he caught me by the +arm and lifted me up. "Where have you been?" +</P> + +<P> +"Travelling," I answered grimly. "And you—what are you doing here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I came to find you," he said. "Do you suppose you can disappear off +the face of the earth for two weeks and that I will not be worried? +Why, I came from New York to hunt you up—just got here this afternoon +and was over at Bolum's when we saw the light. Now give an account of +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't necessary," said I, smiling complacently. I put the lamp on +the table and picked up my hat. "I'll be back in a while," I said. +"I'm going up to see Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"To see Mary?" Tim cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, to see Mary," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +Then, with a little flourish of triumph, I handed him her note. +</P> + +<P> +Tim read it. His face became very grave, and he looked from it to me, +and then turned and, with an elbow resting on the mantel, stood gazing +down into the empty fireplace. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" I exclaimed, angered by his mood. +</P> + +<P> +"This is two weeks old, Mark," he said, handing me the paper. +</P> + +<P> +"What of it?" I cried querulously, putting on my hat and moving to the +door. +</P> + +<P> +My hand was on the knob turning it, when Tim said, "Mary has left the +valley." +</P> + +<P> +It did not bother me much when he said that. I was getting so used to +being knocked about that a blow or two more made little difference. +The knob was not turned though. It shot back with a click, and I +leaned against the door, staring at my brother. +</P> + +<P> +"And when did she go?" I asked. "And where—back to Kansas?" +</P> + +<P> +"To New York," Tim answered, "and with Weston—she has married Weston." +</P> + +<P> +I was glad the door was there, for that trip over the mountain, with +the creek, and the powwowing and all that, had left me still a little +wobbly. Tim's announcement was not adding to my spirit. Long I gazed +at his quiet face; and I knew well enough that he was speaking the +truth. And, perhaps, after all, the truth was best. It was all over, +anyway, and we were just where we started before she came to the valley. +</P> + +<P> +I was just where I was before I found that note lying on the door-sill. +I had been foolish, sitting there on the floor reading that message of +hers that she had belied. But that was only for a minute, and I would +never be foolish again. Trust me for that. +</P> + +<P> +"She has married Weston," I said. "Well, the little flirt!" +</P> + +<P> +Tim got down on the hearth and began piling paper and kindling and logs +in the fireplace. He started the blaze, and when it was going cheerily +he looked up to find me in my old chair by the table, with Captain +beside me, his head on my knee as I stroked it. +</P> + +<P> +"The little flirt!" I said again, bound that he should hear me. +</P> + +<P> +He heard. He took his old chair, and resting his elbows on the table, +resting his chin in his hands, a favorite attitude of his, he sat there +eying me quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"The little what, Mark?" he said at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Flirt," I snapped. +</P> + +<P> +It was simply a braggart's way. I knew it. Tim knew it, too. He +seemed to look right through me. I was angry with him, I was jealous +of him, because she had cared for him. I knew she had. I knew why she +had. Tim and I were far apart. But he had made the breach. All the +wrong wrought was his, and yet he sat there, calmly eying me, as though +he were a righteous judge and I the culprit. +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you say flirt?" he asked quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"She promised to marry me," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"She loved you, Tim." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—and how did you know it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perry Thomas saw you that night when you went to stay a minute." +</P> + +<P> +The color left Tim's face and he leaned back in his chair, away from +the light into the shadow, and whistled softly. +</P> + +<P> +"You knew it, then," he said, after a long while. "I didn't intend you +should, Mark. I didn't intend you ever should." +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally," said I in an icy tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally," said he. His face came into the light again, and he +leaned there on the table, watching me as earnestly as ever. +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally," he said again. "I was going away, Mark, never to bother +you nor her. Did I know then that you loved her? Had you ever told +me? Was I to blame for that moment when I knew I loved the girl and +that she loved me?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I never told you—that's true," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet I knew you cared for her, Mark. I could see that. I saw it +all those nights when you would leave me to go plodding up the hill. +That's why I went away." +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you go away?" I cried. "You went to see the world and make +money——" +</P> + +<P> +"I went because I loved the girl and you did, too," said Tim. And +looking into those quiet eyes, I knew that he spoke the truth and I had +been blind all this time. "Weston knew it," he went on. "He saw it +from the first. That's why he helped me." +</P> + +<P> +"You are not at all an egotist," I sneered, trying to bear up against +him. +</P> + +<P> +"Entirely so," he said calmly. "I even thought that I might win, Mark. +But then I had so much and you so little chance, I went away to forget. +Weston knew that. He knew, too, that there was no Edith Parker." +</P> + +<P> +"And what has Edith Parker to do with all this?" I asked more gently, +for he was breaking down my barriers. +</P> + +<P> +"She might have done much for you had I not come back when Weston was +shot. Couldn't you see, Mark, how angry Mary was with me for +forgetting her? But Weston knew it. And that night—that minute—I +only wanted to explain to Mary, and she saw it all, Mark, and I saw it +all—and we forgot. Then she told me of you." +</P> + +<P> +"She told you rather late," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"But she would have kept her promise. Couldn't you forgive her, Mark, +for that one moment of forgetting? It was just one moment, and I left +her then forever. We thought you'd never know." +</P> + +<P> +"And thinking that, you came whistling down the road that night," I +sneered. "You came whistling like a man mightily pleased with his +conquest—or, perhaps you sang so gayly from sheer joy in your own +goodness. It seems to me at times like that a man would——" +</P> + +<P> +"A man would whistle a bit for courage," Tim interrupted. "Couldn't he +do that, Mark? Couldn't he go away with his head up and face set, or +must he totter along and wail simply because he is doing a fair thing +that any man would do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, in Heaven's name, couldn't you keep her for yourself?" I cried, +pounding the floor with my crutch. +</P> + +<P> +Then, in my anger I arose and went stamping up and down the room, while +Tim sat there staring at me blankly. At last I halted by the fireplace +and stood there looking down at him very hard. I looked right into his +heart and read it. He winced and turned his face from me. I was the +righteous judge now and he the culprit. +</P> + +<P> +"You left her, Tim," I said hotly. "You might have known the girl +could never marry me after that minute. You might have known she was +not the girl to deceive me—she would have told me; and then, Tim, do +you think that I would have kept her to her promise? Why didn't you +come to me and tell me?" +</P> + +<P> +"For your sake, Mark, I didn't," Tim answered, looking up. +</P> + +<P> +"And for my sake you left the girl there—you turned your back on her +and went away. Then in her perplexity she looked to me again, and I +had gone. I didn't know. I went away for her sake, and when she sent +for me I had forsaken her, too. That's a shabby way to treat a woman. +Do you wonder she turned to Weston?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," Tim said, "for Weston is a man of men, he is—and he cared for +her—that's why he stayed in the valley." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew that," said I, "for I saw it that day when he went away from me +to the charcoal clearing." +</P> + +<P> +"Then think of the lonely girl up there on the hill, Mark," Tim said. +He joined me at the fireplace, and we stood side by side, as often we +had stood in the old days, warming our hands, and watching the +crackling flames. "Do you blame her? I had gone, vowing never to come +back again till she kept her promise to you; you had fled from her—she +wrote, and no word came. And Weston is a wise man and a kind man, and +when she turned to him she found comfort. Do you blame her?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," I said, half hesitating. +</P> + +<P> +"After all, it's better, too," Tim went on. "What could you have given +her, Mark—or I, compared to what his wealth means to a woman like +Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +Wealth was not happiness. Money was not peace. Etches were a +delusion. Now she had them. That was what Weston would give her, and +I wished her joy. True, he loved the girl. True, he offered her just +what I did, and with it he gave those fleeting joys that wealth brings. +She should be happy—just as much so as if she had made herself a +fellow-prisoner with me here in the little valley. For what had I to +offer her? The love of a crippled veteran; the wealth of a petty +farmer; the companionship of a crotchety pedagogue. What joy it would +give her ambitious soul as the years went on to watch her husband +develop; to see him growing in the learning of the store; to have him +ranking first among the worthies of the bench; to greet him as he +hobbled home at night after a busy day at nothing! It was better as it +was—aye—a thousand times. +</P> + +<P> +But there was Tim. What a man Tim was, and how blind I had been and +selfish! He stood before me tall and strong, watching me with his +quiet eyes, and as I looked at him I thought of Weston, the lanky +cynic, with his thin, homely face and loose-jointed, shambling walk. +Then I wondered at it all. Then I said to myself, "Is it best?" +</P> + +<P> +"What makes you so quiet, Mark?" asked Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"I was wishing, Tim," I answered, laying a hand on each of his broad +shoulders, "I was wishing you had kept her when you had her." +</P> + +<P> +Tim laughed. It was his clear, honest laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"It is best as it is," he said. "It's best for her and best for us, +for she'll be happy. But supposing one of us had won—would it have +been the same—the same as it was before she came—the same as it is +now?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he cried. "Now for supper—then our pipes—all of us +together—you in your chair and I in mine—and Captain and +Colonel—just as it used to be." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XX +</H3> + + +<P> +Tim has gone back to the city after his first long vacation and here I +am alone again. He wants me to be with him and live down there in a +brick and mortar gulch where the sun rises from a maze of tall chimneys +and sets on oil refineries. I said no. Some day I may, but that day +is a long way off. In the fall I am to go for a week and we are to +have a fine time, Tim and I, but Captain and Colonel will have to be +content to hear about it when I get back. Surely it will give us much +to talk of in the winter nights, when we three sit by the fire +again—Captain and Colonel and I. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-332"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-332.jpg" ALT="Old Captain." BORDER="2" WIDTH="327" HEIGHT="206"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Old Captain.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Tim says it is lonely for me here. Lonely? Pshaw! I know the ways of +the valley, and there is not a lonely spot in it from the bald top of +Thunder Knob to the tall pine on the Gander's head. I would have Tim +stay here with me, but he says no. He wants to win a marble mausoleum. +I shall be content to lie beneath a tree. Tim is ambitious. +</P> + +<P> +Just a few nights ago, we sat smoking in the evening, warming our +hearts at the great hearth-stone. Thunder Knob was all aglow, and the +cloud coals were piled heaven-high above it, burning gold and red. +Down in the meadow Captain and Colonel raced from shock to shock on the +trail of a rabbit, and a flock of sheep, barnward bound, came bleating +along the road. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-333"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-333.jpg" ALT="When we three sit by the fire." BORDER="2" WIDTH="354" HEIGHT="584"> +<H4> +[Illustration: When we three sit by the fire.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Tim began to suppose. He was supposing me a great lawyer and himself a +great merchant and all that. I lost all patience with him. +</P> + +<P> +Suppose it all, Tim, I said. Suppose that you, the great tea-king, and +I, the statesman, sat here smoking. Would the cloud coals over there +on Thunder Knob blaze up higher in our honor? And the quail, perched +on the fence-stake, would she address herself to us or to Mr. Robert +White down in the meadow? Would the night-hawk, circling in the +clouds, strike one note to our glory? Could the bleating of the sheep +swing in sweeter to the music of the valley as she is rocked to sleep? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 17156-h.txt or 17156-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/1/5/17156">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/5/17156</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution.</p> + + + +<pre> +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +<a href="https://gutenberg.org/license">https://gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">https://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-020.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-020.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..10ffd0f --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-020.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-027.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-027.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..625b927 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-027.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-046.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-046.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba2c431 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-046.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-053.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-053.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea6cdfa --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-053.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-068.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-068.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9bf1884 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-068.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-075.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-075.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f668c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-075.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-082.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-082.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d72d1d1 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-082.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-105.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-105.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6225cda --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-105.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-113.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-113.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c877ecc --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-113.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-120.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-120.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d74b016 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-120.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-124.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-124.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6f9b7c --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-124.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-129.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-129.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aa8f2cb --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-129.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-141.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-141.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d86dc0 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-141.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-148.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-148.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a3d3673 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-148.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-159.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-159.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..414a871 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-159.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-165.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-165.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2036895 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-165.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-187.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-187.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..85cdbf5 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-187.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-191.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-191.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..05a46e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-191.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-193.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-193.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..42ff706 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-193.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-201.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-201.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1b9e40a --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-201.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-209.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-209.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca69a30 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-209.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-225.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-225.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..289cf06 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-225.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-235.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-235.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..62db40c --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-235.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-242.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-242.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb94d31 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-242.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-254.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-254.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aca16b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-254.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-259.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-259.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9007980 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-259.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-267.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-267.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8242db7 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-267.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-286.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-286.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5588c54 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-286.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-296.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-296.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ea883b --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-296.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-299.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-299.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..000847d --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-299.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-319.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-319.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2566836 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-319.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-332.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-332.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..48a0eaa --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-332.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-333.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-333.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..21aa65c --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-333.jpg diff --git a/17156-h/images/img-front.jpg b/17156-h/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ee0d69 --- /dev/null +++ b/17156-h/images/img-front.jpg diff --git a/17156.txt b/17156.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6ffaef --- /dev/null +++ b/17156.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6590 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Soldier of the Valley, by Nelson Lloyd, +Illustrated by A. B. Frost + + +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 Soldier of the Valley + + +Author: Nelson Lloyd + + + +Release Date: November 26, 2005 [eBook #17156] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 17156-h.htm or 17156-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/1/5/17156/17156-h/17156-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/1/5/17156/17156-h.zip) + + + + + +THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY + +by + +NELSON LLOYD + +Illustrated by A. B. Frost + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: They called to me as a boy.] + + + + + +Charles Scribner's Sons +New York ------------ 1904 +Copyright, 1904, by +Charles Scribner's Sons +Published, September, 1904 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + They called to me as a boy . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + + "Welcome home--thrice welcome!" + + Tim and I had stopped our ploughs to draw lots and + he had lost + + "Well, old chap!" + + Josiah Nummler + + He did not stop to hear my answer + + Swearing terrible oaths that he will never return + + No answer came from the floor above + + The tiger story + + He had a last look at Black Log + + "He pumped me dry" + + "Nanny is likely to get one of her religious spells + and quit work" + + I was back in my prison + + "'At my sover-sover-yne's will'" + + Perry Thomas stands confronting the English warrior + + "You'll begin to think you ain't there at all" + + I saw a girl on the store porch + + Aaron Kallaberger + + Leander + + "Her name was Pinky Binn, a dotter of the house of Binn, + the Binns of Turkey Walley" + + William had felt the hand of "Doogulus" + + "Aren't you coming?" young Colonel seemed to say + + Sat little Colonel, wailing + + The main thing was proper nursing + + Well, ain't he tasty + + "But there are no ghosts," I argued + + "Of course it hurts me a bit here" + + "An seein' a light in the room, I looked in" + + Tip Pulsifer leaned on my gate + + The horse went down + + "And I'm his widder" + + Then Tim came + + Old Captain + + When we three sit by the fire + + + + +THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY + + +I + +I was a soldier. I was a hero. You notice my tenses are past. I am a +simple school-teacher now, a prisoner in Black Log. There are no bars +to my keep, only the wall of mountains that make the valley; and look +at them on a clear day, when sunshine and shadow play over their green +slopes, when the clouds all white and gold swing lazily in the blue +above them, and they speak of freedom and of life immeasurable. There +are no chains to my prison, no steel cuffs to gall the limbs, no guards +to threaten and cow me. Yet here I stay year after year. Here I was +born and here I shall die. + +I am a traveller. In my mind I have gone the world over, and those +wanderings have been unhampered by the limitations of mere time, for I +know my India of the First Century as well as that of the Twentieth, +and the China of Confucius is as real to me as that of Kwang Su. +Without stirring from my little porch down here in the valley I have +pierced the African jungles and surveyed the Arctic ice-floes. Often +the mountains call me to come again, to climb them, to see the real +world beyond, to live in it, to be of it, but I am a prisoner. They +called to me as a boy, when wandering over the hills, I looked away to +them, and over them, into the mysterious blue, picturing my India and +my China, my England and my Russia in a geographical jumble that began +just beyond the horizon. + +Then I was a prisoner in the dungeons of Youth and my mother was my +jailer. The day came when I was free, and forth I went full of hope, +twenty-three years old by the family Bible, with a strong, agile body +and a homely face. I went as a soldier. For months I saw what is +called the world; I had glimpses of cities; I slept beneath the palms; +I crossed a sea and touched the tropics. Marching beneath a blazing +sun, huddling from the storm in the scant shelter of the tent, my +spirits were always keyed to the highest by the thought that I was +seeing life and that these adventures were but a fore-taste of those to +come. But one day when we marched beneath the blazing sun, we met a +storm and found no shelter. We charged through a hail of steel. They +took me to the sea on a stretcher, and by and by they shipped me home. +Then it was that I was a hero--when I came again to Black Log--what was +left of me. + +My people were very kind. They sent Henry Holmes's double phaeton to +the county town to meet my train, and as I stumbled from the car, being +new to my crutches, I fell into the arms of a reception committee. Tim +was there. And my little brother fought the others off and picked me +up and carried me, as I had carried him in the old days when he was a +toddling youngster and I a sturdy boy. But he was six feet two now and +I had wasted to a shadow. Perry Thomas had a speech prepared. He is +our orator, our prize debater, our township statesman, and his +frock-coat tightly buttoned across his chest, his unusually high and +stiffly starched collar, his repeated coughing as he hovered on the +outskirts of the crowd, told me plainly that he had an address to make. +Henry Holmes, indeed, asked me to stand still just one minute, and I +divined instantly that he was working in the interest of oratory; but +Tim spoiled it all by running off with me and tossing me into the +phaeton. + +So in the state-coach of Black Log, drawn by Isaac Bolum's +lemon-colored mules, with the committee rattling along behind in a +spring wagon, politely taking our dust, I came home once more, over the +mountains, into the valley. + +Sometimes I wonder if I shall ever make another journey as long as that +one. Sometimes I have ventured as far as the gap, and peeped into the +broad open country, and caught the rumble of the trains down by the +river. There is one of the world's highways, but the toll is great, +and a crippled soldier with a scanty pension and a pittance from his +school is wiser to keep to the ways he knows. + +And how I know the ways of the valley! That day when we rode into it +every tree seemed to be waving its green arms in salute. As we swung +through the gap, around the bend at the saw-mill and into the open +country, checkered brown and yellow by fields new-ploughed and fields +of stubble, a flock of killdeer arose on the air and screamed a +welcome. In their greeting there seemed a taunting note as though they +knew they had no more to fear from me and could be generous. I saw +every crook in the fence, every rut in the road, every bush and tree +long before we came to it. But six months had I been away, yet in that +time I had lived half my life, and now I was so changed that it seemed +strange to find the valley as fat and full as ever, stretched out there +in the sunshine in a quiet, smiling slumber. + +"Things are just the same, Mark, you'll notice," said Tim, pointing to +a hole in the flooring of the bridge over which we were passing. + +The valley had been driving around that same danger spot these ten +years. There was a world of meaning to the returning wanderer in that +broken plank, and it was not hard to catch the glance of my brother's +eye and to know his mind. + +Henry Holmes on the front seat, driving, caught the inflection of Tim's +voice and cried testily: "You are allus runnin' the walley down. Why +don't you tell him about the improvements instead of pintin' out the +bad spots in the road?" + +"Improvements?" said I, in a tone of inquiry. + +"Theop Jones has bought him a new side-bar buggy," replied the old man. +"Then the Kallabergers has moved in from the country and is fixin' up +the Harmon house at the end of the town." + +"And a be-yutiful place they're makin' of it," cried Isaac Bolum; +"be-yutiful!" + +"They've added a fancy porch," Henry explained, "and are gittin' blue +glass panes for the front door." + +"We've three spring-beds in town now," put in Isaac in his slow, dreamy +way. "If I mind right the Spikers bought theirs before war was +declared, so you've seen that one. Well, Piney Martin he has got him +one--let me see--when did he git it, Henery?" + +Old Holmes furrowed his brow and closed one eye, seeking with the other +the inspiration of the sky. + +"July sixth," he answered. "Don't you mind, Ike, it come the same day +and on the wery same stage as the news of the sinkin' of the Spaynish +fleet?" + +"Nonsense," retorted Isaac. "You're allus mixin' dates, Henery. +You're thinkin' of Tip Pulsifer's last baby. He come July six, for +don't you mind how they called him Cevery out of pity and generosity +for the Spayniards? Piney's spring-bed arrived the same day and on the +same stage as brung us the news of Mark here havin' his left leg shot +off." + +"Mebbe--mebbe--mebbe," muttered Henry, shaking his head dubiously. "It +certainly do beat all how things happens all at once in this world. +Come to think of it, the wery next day six of my sheep was killed by +dogs." + +"It's good you're gittin' your dates cleared," snapped old Bolum. "On +history, Henery Holmes, you are the worst." + +Henry retorted with an angry protest against the indictment, declaring +that he was studying history when Bolum was being nourished on "soft +food." That was true. Isaac admitted it frankly. He wasn't his +mother's keeper, that he could regulate his own birthday. Had that +been in his power he would certainly have set it a half century earlier +or later to avoid being constantly annoyed by the "onreasonablest +argeyments" Six Stars had ever heard. This made old Holmes smile +softly, and he turned and winked at me. The one thing he had ever been +thankful for, he said, was that his life had fallen with that of Isaac +Bolum. Whenever he done wrong; whenever the consciousness of sin was +upon him and he needed the chastisin' rod, he just went to the store +and set and listened to Ike. To this Isaac retorted that it was a +wonder the rod had not worn out long ago; it was pleasing to know, at +least, that he was made of tough old hickory. Henry admitted this to +be a "good 'un" on him--an unusual one, considering the source--but +that did not settle the exact date of the arrival of Piney Martin's +spring-bed. + +It was time for me to protest that it mattered little whether the event +occurred on July sixth or a week later, since what really interested me +was the question as to who was the owner of the third of these +luxuries. Isaac's serious, self-conscious look answered me, but I +pressed the inquiry to give him an opportunity to sing the praises of +this newest of his household gods. Mr. Bolum's pleasure was evident. +Once launched into an account of the comfort of springs as compared to +a straw-tick on ropes, he would have monopolized our attention to the +end of the journey, but the sagacious Henry blocked him rudely by a tug +at the reins which almost threw the lemon-colored mules on their +haunches. + +We were at the foot of the slope where the road to Buzzards Glory +branches from the pike. The Arkers had spied us coming, and ran down +from the tannery to greet us. Arnold, after he had a dozen times +expressed his delight at my return, asked if I had seen any shooting. +His son Sam's wife nudged him and whispered in his ear, upon which he +apologized abruptly, explaining that he had dropped his spectacles in +the tanning vat. Sam sought to extricate his father from these +imaginary difficulties by demanding that I go coon-hunting with him on +the next night. This set Sam's wife's elbow going again very +vigorously, and the further embarrassment of the whole family was saved +by Henry Holmes swinging the whip across the backs of the mules. + +On went the state-coach of Black Log. We clattered quickly over the +last level stretch. We dragged up the last long hill, and from its +brow I looked on the roofs of Six Stars rising here and there from the +green bed of trees. I heard the sonorous rumble of the mill, and above +it a shrill and solitary crow. On the state-coach went, down the +steep, driving the mules madly before it. Their hoofs made music on +the bridge, and my journey was ended. + +Home again! Even Tip Pulsifer was dear to me then. He was between the +wheels when we stopped, and I planted a crutch on one of his bare feet +and embraced him. + +He grinned and cried, "Mighty souls!" + +That embrace, that grin and that heart-born exclamation marked the +entrance of the Pulsifer family into my life. Theretofore I had +regarded them with a suspicion born of a pile of feathers at the door +of their shanty on the ridge, for they kept no chickens. Now the six +little Pulsifers, all with the lower halves of their faces washed and +their hair soaped down, were climbing around me, and the latest comer, +that same Cevery who arrived with Piney Martin's spring-bed, was +hoisted into kissing distance by his mother, who was thinner and more +wan than ever, but still smiling. But this was home and these were +home people. My heart was open then and warm, and I took the seven +little Pulsifers to it. I took old Mrs. Bolum to it, too, for she +tumbled the clamoring infants aside and in her joy forgot the ruffles +in the sleeves of her wonderful purple silk. At her elbow hovered the +tall, spare figure of Aaron Kallaberger. Mindful of the military +nature of the occasion he appeared in his old army overcoat, in spite +of the heat. Rare honor, this! And better still, he hailed me as +"Comrade," and enfolding my hand in his long horny fingers, cried +"All's well, Mark!" + +The mill ceased its rumbling. Already the valley was rocking itself to +sleep. Out of the darkening sky rang the twanging call of a +night-hawk, and the cluck of a dozing hen sounded from the foliage +overhead. A flock of weary sheep pattered along the road, barnward +bound, heavy eyed and bleating softly. The blue gate was opened wide. +My hand was on Tim's shoulder and Tim's arm was my support. + +"All's well!" I cried. For I was hobbling home. + + + + +II + +Perry Thomas still had his speech to deliver. He hovered around the +rocking-chair in which they had enthroned me, and with one hand he kept +clutching violently at his throat as though he were suppressing his +eloquence by muscular effort. His repeated coughing seemed a constant +warning that at any moment he might be vanquished in the struggle for +becoming silence. There was a longing light in his eyes and a look of +appeal whenever our glances met. My position was embarrassing. He +knew that I realized his predicament, but how could I interrupt the +kindly demonstrations of the old friends who pressed about me, to +announce that the local orator had a formal address of welcome that was +as yet unspoken? And an opportunity like this might never again occur +in Perry's life! Here were gathered not only the people of the +village, but of the valley. His words would fall not alone on the ears +of a few choice spirits of the store forum, or the scoffing pedants of +the literary society, for crowded into that little room were old men +whose years would give weight to the declaration that it was the +greatest talking they had ever heard; were young children, who in after +years, when a neglected gravestone was toppling over all that was left +of the orator, would still speak of the wonders of his eloquence; were +comely women to whom the household was the world and the household task +the life's work, but who could now for the moment lift their bent forms +and have their dulled eyes turned to higher and better things. +Moreover, there were in that room a score of deep eyes that could not +but quicken at the sight of a slender, manly figure, clad in scholastic +black, of a thin, earnest face, with beetled brows and a classic +forehead from which swept waves of black hair. Little wonder Perry was +restless under restraint! Little wonder he grew more melancholy and +coughed louder and louder, as the light without faded away, and the +faces within were dimmed in the shadow! + +From the kitchen came the clatter of dishes and pans and a babel of +women's voices, the shrill commands of old Mrs. Bolum rising above +them. The feast was preparing. Its hour was at hand. Apollo never +was a match for Bacchus, and Perry Thomas could not command attention +once Mrs. Bolum appeared on the scene. He realized this. Her cries +came as an inspiration to action. In the twilight I lost him, but the +lamp-light disclosed him standing over Henry Holmes, who had been +driven into a corner and was held prisoner there by a threatening +finger. There was a whispered parley that ended only when the old man +surrendered and, stepping to the centre of the room, rapped long and +loud on the floor with his cane. + +Henry is always blunt. He has a way of getting right at the heart of +things with everyone except Bolum. For Isaac, he regards +circumlocution as necessary, taking the ground that with him the +quantity and not the quality of the words counts. So when he had +silenced the company, and with a sweep of his cane had driven them into +close order about the walls, he said: "Mr. Thomas is anxious to make an +address." + +At this moment Mr. Thomas was about to step into the zone of fire of a +hundred eyes. There was a very audible titter in the corner where +three thoughtless young girls had squeezed themselves into one +rocking-chair. The orator heard it and brought his heels together with +a click. + +"Mind what I told you, Henery," he whispered very loud, glaring at Mr. +Holmes. + +"Oh, yes," Henry returned in a casual tone. + +He thumped the floor again, and when the tittering had subsided, and +only the snuffling of Cevery Pulsifer broke the silence, he said: "In +jestice to Mr. Thomas, I am requested to explain that the address was +originally intended to be got off at the railroad. It was forgot by +accident, and him not havin' time to change it, he asks us to make +believe we are standin' alongside of the track at Pleasantville just as +the train comes in." + +Isaac Bolum had fixed himself comfortably on two legs of his chair, +with the projecting soles of his boots caught behind the rung. Feet +and chair-legs came to the floor with a crash, and half rising from the +seat, one hand extended in appeal, the other at his right ear, forming +a trumpet, he shouted: "Mr. Chairman! Mr. Chairman!" + +"This ain't a liter'ry meetin', Mr. Bolum. The floor is Mr. Thomas's, +I believe," said Henry with dignity. + +"But I didn't catch the name of the station you said we was to imagine." + +"I said Pleasantville," cried Henry angrily. + +"I apologize," returned Isaac. "I thought you said Meadowville, and +never havin' been there, I didn't see how I could imagine the station." + +"It seems to me, Isaac Bolum," retorted Henry with dignified asperity, +"that with your imagination you could conjure up a whole railroad +system, includin' the freight-yard. But Mr. Thomas has the floor." + +"See here, Henery Holmes," cried Isaac, "it's all right for us old +folks, but there's the children. How can they imagine Pleasantville +station when some of 'em ain't yet seen a train?" + +This routed even Henry Holmes. At the store he would never have given +in, but he was not accustomed to hearing so loud a murmur of approval +greet the opposition. He realized that he had been placed in a false +position by the importunities of Mr. Thomas, and to him he now left the +brunt of the trouble by stepping out of the illumined circle and losing +himself in the company. + +The fire-swept zone had no terrors for Perry. With one hand thrust +between the first and second buttons of his coat, and the other raised +in that gesture with which the orator stills the sea of discontent, he +stepped forward, and turning slowly about, brought his eyes to bear on +the contumacious Bolum. He indicated the target. Every optic gun in +the room was levelled at it. The upraised hand, the potent silence, +the solemn gaze of a hundred eyes was too much for the old man to bear. +Slowly he swung back on two legs of his chair, caught the rungs again +with the projecting soles, turned his eyes to the ceiling, closed them, +and set himself to imagining the station at Pleasantville. The rout +was complete. + +Perry wheeled and faced me. The hand was lowered slowly; four fingers +disappeared and one long one, one quivering one, remained, a whip with +which to chastise the prisoner at the bar. + +"Mark Hope," he began, in a deep, rich, resonant voice, "we welcome you +home. We have come down from the valley, fourteen mile through the +blazin' noonday sun, fourteen mile over wind-swept roads, that you, +when agin you step on the soil of our beloved county, may step into +lovin' hands, outstretched to meet you and bid you welcome. Welcome +home--thrice welcome--agin I say, welcome!" + +[Illustration: "Welcome home--thrice welcome!"] + +Both of the orator's hands swung upward and outward, and he looked +intently at the ceiling. He seemed prepared to catch me as I leaped +from a second-story window. The pause as he stood there braced to +receive the body of the returning soldier as it hurtled at him, gave +Isaac Bolum an opportunity to be magnanimous. He clapped his hands and +cheered. In an instant his shrill cry was drowned in a burst of +applause full of spirit and heart, closing with a flourish of wails +from Cevery Pulsifer and the latest of the Kallabergers. Perry's arms +fell gracefully to his side and he inclined his head and half closed +his eyes in acknowledgment. Then turning to Isaac, measuring every +word, in a voice clear and cutting, his long forefinger shaking, he +cried: "From the bloody battlefields of Cuby, from her tropic camps +where you suffered and bled, you come home to us to-day. You have +fought in the cause of liberty. To your country you have give a +limb--you----" + +Poor Bolum! Awakened from the gentle doze into which he had fallen the +instant Cevery Pulsifer relieved him of the duty of leading the +applause, he brought his chair down on all four legs, and slapped both +knees violently. Satisfied that they were still there, he looked up at +the orator. + +"You have give a limb," repeated Perry, emphasizing the announcement by +shaking his finger at the old man. + +Isaac's mouth was half open for a protest, when he remembered, and +leaning over seized the toe of each boot in a hand and wriggled his +feet. When we saw his face again he was smiling gently, and swinging +back, he nestled his head against the wall and closed his eyes once +more. + +"You would have give your life," cried Perry. + +But the only sign old Bolum made was to twirl the thumbs of his clasped +hands. + +"Six months ago, six short, stirrin' months ago you left us, just a +plain man, at your country's call." Perry was thundering his rolling +periods at us. "To-day, a moment since, standin' here by the track, we +heard the rumblin' of the train and the engyne's whistle, and we says a +he-ro comes--a he-ro in blue!" + +Had Perry looked my way, he might have noticed that I was clad in +khaki, but he was addressing Henry Holmes, whose worthy head was +nodding in continual acquiescence. The old man stood, with eyes +downcast and hands clasped before him, a picture of humility. The +orator, carried away by his own eloquence, seemed to forget its real +purpose, and in a moment, sitting unnoticed in my chair with Tim at my +side, I became a minor figure, while half a hundred were gathered there +to do honor to Henry Holmes. Once I even forgot and started to applaud +when Perry raised his hand over the gray head as though in blessing and +said solemnly: "He-ro in blue--agin we bid you welcome!" + +A little laugh behind me recalled me to my real place, and with a +burning face I turned. + +I have in my mind a thousand pictures of one woman. But of them all +the one I love most, the one on which I dwell most as I sit of an +evening with my pipe and my unopened book, is that which I first saw +when I sought the chit who noticed my ill-timed applause and laughed at +me. I found her. I saw that she laughed with me and for me, and I +laughed too. We laughed together. An instant, and her face became +grave. + +The orator, now swelling into his peroration, was forgotten. The +people of the valley--Tim--even Tim--all of them were forgotten. I had +found the woman of my firelight, the woman of my cloudland, the woman +of my sunset country down in the mountains to the west. She, had +always been a vague, undefined creature to me--just a woman, and so +elusive as never to get within the grasp of my mind's eye; just a woman +whom I had endowed with every grace; whose kindly spirit shone through +eyes, now brown, now blue, now black, according to my latest whim; who +ofttimes worn, or perhaps feigning weariness, rested on my shoulder a +little head, crowned with a glory of hair sometimes black, and +sometimes golden or auburn, and not infrequently red, a dashing, daring +red. Sometimes she was slender and elf-like, a chic and clinging +creature. Again she was tall and stately, like the women of the +romances. Again she was buxom and blooming, one whose hand you would +take instead of offering an arm. She had been an elusive, +ever-changing creature, but now that I had looked into those grave, +gray eyes, I fixed the form of my picture, and fixed its colors and +fired them in to last for all my time. + +Now she is just the woman that every woman ought to be. Her hair is +soft brown and sweeps back from a low white forehead. She has tried to +make it straight and simple, as every woman should, but the angels seem +to have curled it here and mussed it there, so that all her care cannot +hide its wanton waves. Her face is full of life and health, so open, +so candid, that there you read her heart, and you know that it is as +good as she is fair. + +She stood before me in a sombre gown, almost ugly in its gray color and +severe lines, but to me she was a quaint figure such as might have +stepped out of the old world and the old time when men lived with a +vengeance, and godliness and ugliness went arm in arm, for Satan had +preempted the beautiful. Against her a homely garb failed. She was +beautiful in spite of her clothes and not because of them. But this is +generally true with women. This one, instead of sharing our admiration +with her gown, claimed it all for herself. Her face had no rival. + +I did not turn away. I could not. The gray eyes, once flashing with +the light of kindly humor, now softened with sympathy, now glowed with +pity. Pity! The thought of it stirred me with anger. The justice of +it made me rage. She saw in the chair a thin, broken figure, a drawn +brown face, a wreck of a man. Yesterday--a soldier. To-day--a hero. +To-morrow--a crippled veteran, and after that a pensioner drifting fast +into a garrulous dotage. She, too, was looking into the future. She +knew what I had lost. She saw what I dreaded. Her eyes told me that. +She did not know what I had gained, for she came of a silly people +whose blood quickened only to the swing of a German hymn and who were +stirred more by the groans of a penitent sinner than the martial call +of the bugle. + +So it came that I struggled to my crutches and broke rudely in on Perry +Thomas's peroration. I had gathered all my strength for a protest +against the future. The people of the valley were to know that their +kindness had cheered me, but of their pity I wanted none. I had played +a small part in a great game and in the playing was the reward. I had +come forth a bit bruised and battered, but there were other battles to +be fought in this world, where one could have the same fierce joy of +the conflict; and he was a poor soldier who lived only to be toted out +on Decoration days. I was glad to be home, but gladder still that I +had gone. That was what I told them. I looked right at the girl when +I said it, and she lifted her head and smiled. They heard how in the +early spring in the meadow by the mill-dam Tim and I had stopped our +ploughs to draw lots and he had lost. He had to stay at home, while I +went out and saw the world at its best, when it was awake to war and +strife, and the mask that hid its emotion was lifted. They heard a +very simple story and a very short one, for now that I came to recount +it all my great adventure dwindled to a few dreary facts. But as best +I knew I told them of the routine of the camp and of the endless drills +in the long spring days down there at Tampa before the army took to +sea. I spoke of the sea and the strange things we saw there as we +steamed along--of the sharks that lolled in our wake, of the great +turtles that seemed to sun themselves on the wave-crests, of the +pelicans and the schools of flying fishes. Elmer Spiker interrupted to +inquire whether the turtles I had seen were "black-legs, red-legs, or +yaller-legs." I had not the remotest idea, and said that I could not +see how the question was relevant. He replied that it was not, except +that it would be of interest to some of those present to learn that +there were three distinct kinds of "tortles"--red-legs, black-legs, and +"yaller-legs." They were shipped to the city and all became +"tarripine." This annoyed me. Elmer is a great scholar, and it was +evident that he was simply airing his wisdom, and rather than give him +a second opportunity I tried to hurry to land; but Isaac Bolum awoke +and wanted to know if he had been dreaming. + +"I thot I heard some one speakin' of flyin' fishes," he said. + +[Illustration: Tim and I had stopped our ploughs to draw lots and he +had lost.] + +It was reckless in me to mention these sea wonders, for now in defence +of my reputation for truthfulness, I had to prove their existence. The +fabric of my story seemed to hang on them. Elmer Spiker declared that +he had heard his grandfather tell of a flying sucker that inhabited the +deep hole below the bridge when he was a boy, but this was the same +grandfather who had strung six squirrels and a pigeon on one bullet in +the woods above the mill in his early manhood. There Elmer winked. +Isaac Bolum allowed that they might be trout that had trained +themselves in the use of wings, but he did not believe that any +ordinary fish such as a chub or a pike or a sunny would care to leave +its natural element to take up with the birds. Perry Thomas began to +cough. That cough is always like a snake's warning rattle. Before he +had time to strike, I blocked the discussion by promising that if the +company suspended judgment I would in the near future prove the +accuracy of my statements on flying fishes by the encyclopaedia. This +promise met with general approval, so I hurried over the sea to the dry +land where I knew the ways better and was less likely to arouse higher +criticism. I told them of the stirring times in Cuba, till the day +came when we stormed the hill, and they had to carry me back to the +sea. I told them how lucky I was to get to the sea at all, for often I +had closed my eyes, worn out by the pain and the struggle for life, +little caring whether ever again I opened them to the light. Then +strength came, and hope, and I turned my face to the North, toward the +valley and home. It was hard to come back on crutches, but it was +better than not to come at all. It was best, to have gone away, else I +had never known the joy of the return, and I was pretty sure to stay, +now that I was home, but if they fancied me dozing away my life at the +store stove they were mistaken; not that I scorned the learned +discussion there, but the frosts were coming soon to stir up sluggish +blood, and when the guns were barking in the woods, and the hounds were +baying along the ridges, I would be with them. + +I looked right at the girl when I said it. I was boasting. She knew +it. She must see, too, what a woful figure I should make with +strong-limbed fellows like Tim there, and strong-limbed hounds like old +Captain, who was lying at my side. But somehow she liked my vaunting +speech. I knew it when our eyes met. + + + + +III + +The gate latch clicked. From the road Henry Holmes called a last +good-night, and Tim and I were alone. We sat in silence, watching +through the window the old man's lantern as he swung away toward home. +Then the light disappeared and without all was black. The village was +asleep. + +By the stove lay my hound, Captain, snoring gently. He had tried to +keep awake, poor beast! For a time he had even struggled to hold one +eye open and on his master, but at last, overcome by weariness, his +head snuggled farther and farther down into his fore paws, and the +tired tail ceased its rhythmic beating on the floor. + +What is home without a dog! Captain is happy. He smiles gently as he +sleeps, and it seems that in that strange dog-dreamland he and I are +racing over the ridges again, through the nipping winds, on the trail +of a fox or a rabbit. His master is home. He has wandered far to +other hunting grounds, but now that the tang is in the air that +foretells the frost and snow, he has come again to the dog that never +misses a trail, the dog that never fails him. + +The hound raised his head and half opened one eye. He was sure that I +was really there, and the gleam of white teeth showed a broadening +dog-smile. And once more we were away on the dreamland trail--Captain +and I. + +"He's been counting the days till you got home, Mark," said Tim, +holding a burning match over my pipe. "It was a bit lonely here, while +you were gone, so Captain and I used to discuss your doings a good deal +after the rest of the place had gone to bed. And as for young Colonel, +why he's heard so much of you from Captain there, I'm afraid he'll +swallow you when he gets at you in the morning." + +Young Colonel was the puppy the returning soldier had never seen. He +had come long after I had gone away, and as yet I knew him only by his +voice, for I had heard his dismal wails down in the barn. In the +excitement of the evening I had forgotten him, but now I raised a +warning finger and listened, thinking that I might catch the appealing +cry. And is there any cry more appealing than that of a lonely puppy? +There was not a sound outside, and I turned to Tim. + +My brother lighted his pipe, and leaned back in his chair, and looked +at me. I looked at him very, very hard. Then we both began to blow +clouds of smoke in each other's faces. Hardly a word had Tim and I +passed since that day in the field when I drew the long twig that sent +me away and left him behind to keep our home. What a blessing a pipe +is at a time like this! Tim says more by the vigor of his smoking than +Perry Thomas could express in a year's oration. So we enshrouded our +emotions in the gray cloud; but if he did not speak, I knew well what +he would be saying, and the harder I puffed the easier did he divine +what was uppermost in my mind. For we were brothers! This was the +same room that for years had been our world; this the same carpet over +which we had tumbled together at our mother's feet. There was the same +cupboard that had been our mountain; here the same chairs that formed +our ridges and our valleys. At the table by my side, by the light of +this very lamp, we sat together not so very long ago, boys, spelling +out with our father, letter by letter, word by word, the stories of the +Bible. Here we had lived our little lives; here we were to live what +was to come; and where life is as simple as it is with us we grow a bit +like the animals about us. We sit together and smoke; we purr, as it +were, and know each other's mind. Tim and I purred. Incident by +incident, year by year, we travelled down the course of our lives +again, over the rough ways, over the smooth ways, smoking and smoking, +until at last we brought up together at the present. Not a word had +either of us spoken, but at last when our reminiscent wanderings were +over and we paused on the threshold of the future, Tim spoke. + +"Attractive?" he said in a tone of inquiry. + +He was looking at me with eyebrows arched, curiously, and there was a +faint suggestion of hostility in the set of his mouth. + +Poor Tim! He has seen so little of women! We have them in our valley, +of course. But he and I lived much in the great book-land beyond the +hills. We had read together of all the heroines of the romances, and +we knew their little ways and their pretty speeches as well as if we +had ourselves walked with them through a few hundred pages and lived +happily ever after. They had been the women of our world as distinct +from the women of our valley. The last we knew as kindly, honest +persons with a faculty for twisting their English and a woful ignorance +of well-turned speeches. They never said "Fair Sir" nor "Master." But +I had gone from that book-world and had seen the women of the real +world. Here I had the advantage of my brother. Into his life a single +woman had come from the real world. She was different from the women +of our valley. I had known that the moment our eyes met, and by the +way Tim smoked now, and by the tone of his terse inquiry, I knew that +he had met a woman who had said "Fair Sir" to him, and I feared for +him. It was disturbing. I felt a twinge of jealousy, but whether for +the tall, strong young fellow before me, to whom I had been all, or for +the fair-faced girl, I could not for the life of me tell. It seemed to +be a bit of both. + +"I remarked that she was attractive," said Tim aggressively, for I had +kept on smoking in silence. + +"Rather," I answered carelessly. "But who is she--a stranger here?" + +"Rather," repeated Tim hotly. "Well, you are blind. I suppose you +judged her by that ugly gray gown. You thought she was some pious +Dunkard." + +"I am no enemy of piety," I retorted. "In fact, I hardly noticed her +clothes at all, except to think that their simplicity gave her a sort +of Priscilla air that was fetching." + +Tim softened. "That's it exactly," he said. "But, Mark, you should +have seen Mary Warden when she came here." + +"From where?" I asked. + +"From Kansas. She lived in some big town out West, and when her mother +died there was no one left to her but Luther Warden, her uncle. He +sent for her, and now she is living with him. The old man sets a great +store by her." + +Luther Warden is rich. He has accumulated a fine lot of property above +Six Stars--several good farms, a mill and a tannery; but even the +chance of inheriting all these did not seem fair compensation for being +his niece and having to live with him. He was good to a fault. He +exuded piety. Six days of the week he worked, piling up the passing +treasures of this world. One whole day he preached, striving for the +treasures in that to come. You could not lay a finger on a weak spot +in his moral armor, but Tip Pulsifer protected from the assaults of +Satan only by a shield of human skin, always seemed to me the better of +the two. Tip wore leaky boots all last winter, but when spring came he +bought Mrs. Pulsifer a sewing machine. Have you ever worn leaky boots +when the snow was banked fence high? Luther Warden's boots never leak. +They are always tight and well tallowed. His horses and his cows +waddle in their fat, and the wool of his flocks is the longest in the +valley. Luther gets up with the sun and goes to bed with it. Some in +our valley think his heavy crops come from his six days of labor, and +some from his one day of preaching. He says that the one day does it +all; but he keeps on getting out with the sun on the other six. I knew +that the poor girl from Kansas must get up with the sun, too, for her +uncle was not the man to brook any dawdling. I knew, further, that +Sunday could not be a day of rest for her, for of all his people she +would have to listen to his preaching. + +That was why I murmured in a commiserative tone, "Luther's niece--poor +girl!" + +"You needn't pity her," Tim snapped. "She knows a heap more about the +world than you or I do. She--" + +"She is not a Dunkard, then?" I interrupted. + +"Not a bit," Tim answered. "I don't know what she was in Kansas, but +Luther has preached so much on worldliness and the vanity of fine +clothes that it wouldn't look right for his niece to go flaunting +frills and furbelows about the valley. That plain gray gown is a +concession to the old man. He'd like her to wear a prayer-cap and a +poke bonnet, I guess, but she has a mind of her own. I think she drew +the line there." + +She had not given up so much, I thought. Perhaps in her self-denial +there was method, and her simple garb became her best. Even a +prayer-cap might frame her face the fairest; but she must know. And I +had seen that in the flash of her eye and the toss of her head that +told me that a hundred Luther Wardens, a hundred Dunkard preacher +uncles, could not abate her beauty one jot. + +"She's rich," said Tim. + +He blurted it out. As long as I had seen her and found her beautiful, +this announcement seemed uncalled for. Had she been plain of face and +figure it might have served a purpose, were my brother endeavoring to +excuse the sentimental state of mind he had disclosed to me. He knew +that the place he held in my heart was first. This had always been +true, and in our lonely innocence we had promised it should be true to +the end. There was to be a fair return. He had promised it, and now +he was learning how hard it was to keep faith. His attitude was one of +half penitence, half defiance. Had I not seen the girl, had he told me +that she was beautiful, and even rich and good, all our boyish pledges +would have been swept aside, and I should have cheered him on. But I +had seen her. She had laughed with me. Somehow we had understood each +other. And now I cared not so much what he felt for her as how she +looked on him. For once in our lives Tim and I were fencing. + +"She's pretty, Tim," said I, "and rich, you say?" + +"Mary has several thousand dollars," he answered. "Besides that, +she'll get all old man Warden has to leave, and that's a pretty pile." + +"Little wonder she wears that Dunkard gown," said I with the faintest +sneer. + +It angered Tim. + +"That's not fair," he cried. "She's not that kind. Luther Warden is +all she has of kin, and if it makes him any happier to see her togged +out in that gawky Dunkard gown-----" + +"Gawky?" said I. "Why, man, on a woman like that a plain dress is +simply quaint. She looks like an old Dutch picture. You must not let +her change it." + +The insinuation of his authority made Tim pound the table with his +pipe. He was striving to be angry, but I knew what that furious flush +of his face meant. He tried to conceal it by smoking again, but ended +in a laugh. + +"Oh, nonsense!" he said. Then he laughed again. + +"Tell me," I went on, following up my advantage, "when is she coming +here, or when are you going to move up there?" + +My brother recovered his composure. + +"It's all silly, Mark. There is no chance of a girl like that settling +down here with a clumsy fellow like me--a fellow who doesn't know +anything, who's never been anywhere, who's never seen anything. Why, +she's travelled; she's from Kansas; she's lived in big cities. This is +nothing but a lark for her. She'll go away some day, and she'll leave +us here, grubbing away on our bit of a farm and spending our savings on +powder and shot--until we get to the happy hunting grounds." + +Tim laughed mournfully. "I've been just a little foolish," he went on, +"but I couldn't help it, Mark. It doesn't amount to anything; it never +did and never will, and now that you're here and the rabbit season will +soon be in, we'll have other things to think of. But you must remember +I'm not the only man in the world who's been a bit of a fool in his +time." + +"No," said I. "May I be spared myself, but see here, Tim, how does it +feel?" + +"How does what feel?" snapped Tim. + +"To be in love the way you are," I answered. + +"Oh!" he exclaimed. + +He had been taken back, and hesitated between anger and amusement. +When Tim hesitates he loses his temper as a sensible man should lose +it--he buries it, and his indomitable good humor wins. + +"Tip Pulsifer says it's like religion," he answered. "At first it +makes you feel all low-down like, and miserable, and you don't care. +Then you either get over it entirely or become so used to it you don't +feel it at all." + +"May I be spared!" I cried, "and may you get over it." + +But the youngster refused to commit himself. He just smiled and +smoked, and it seemed as though in his suffering he was half happy. I +smoked, too. We smoked together. The silence startled Captain, for +the clock struck, and yawning, he arose, trotted to my side, and with +one leap he brought his ponderous paws into my lap. + +You can trust your dog. He never fails you. + +"Well, old chap," I said, as I scratched his nose ever so gently, "you +at least have no one to think of but me and Tim there, eh?" + +[Illustration: "Well, old chap!"] + +"No," cried Captain heartily. + +That was not the exact word that he used, but he expressed it by +beating his tail against the table and giving a long howl. + +"And if Tim, there, goes dawdling after a woman, we shall stick to the +ridges, and the foxes, and the rabbits. We can't go as fast as we used +to, Captain, but we can go together, eh?" + +"The same as ever and the same forever," cried Captain. + +Those were not his exact words, but I saw his answer in his eyes, for +he had climbed higher and they were close to mine. He seemed ready to +swallow me. + +"And when he brings her home, Captain," said I, "and fills the whole +house with young ones who'll pull your tail and tickle your ears and +play horse with my crutches, we shall sit outside and smoke our pipes +alone, in peace and quiet, eh, Captain?" + +"Oho!" cried Captain. "That we will, and you never need want, Mark, +for I've many a fine bone buried away against old age and rainy +weather." + +"Spoken like a man," said I, slapping the hound on the back. + +Tim had lighted a candle. Now he blew out the lamp and stood over me +in the half-light, holding out a hand. + +"Come," he said. "That's right, put your hand on my shoulder, for the +stairs are steep and will trouble you. That's the way. Come along, +Captain; to-night we'll all go up together. And when she comes--that +woman--we'll go to your house--all three of us--the same as now--eh, +Captain?" + + + + +IV + +"I love soldiers--just love 'em," she said. + +"The sentiment is an old one with women," said I. "Were it not so, +there would be no soldiers." + +"And for that reason you went to war?" she said. + +"In part, yes," I answered. + +"How I should like to see the woman!" she cried. "How proud she must +be of you!" + +"Of me?" I laughed. "The woman? Why, she doesn't exist." + +"Then why did you turn soldier?" + +"I feared that some day there might be a woman, and when that day came +I wished to be prepared. I thought that the men who fought would be +the men of the future. But I have learned a great deal. They will be +the men of the past in a few months. The memory of a battle's heroes +fades away almost with the smoke. In a little while, to receive our +just recognition we old soldiers will have to parade before the public +with a brass band, and the band will get most attention. Would you +know that Aaron Kallaberger was a hero of Gettysburg if he didn't wear +an army overcoat?" + +"Oh, yes," she said. "I have heard about it so often. He has told me +a hundred times." + +"I suppose you have told a hundred other persons of Aaron's prowess?" +said I. + +"No-o-o," she answered. + +"And so," said I, "when Perry Thomas finished his oration last night, I +had to catch it up; and if my soldiering is to result in any material +good to me I must keep that oration moving to the end." + +"But will you?" she asked. + +How I liked the way she put it! It was flattering--subtly so. She +seemed to imply that I was a modest soldier, and if there is a way to +flatter a man it is to call him modest. Modesty is one of the best of +policies. To call a man honest is no more than to call him healthy or +handsome. These are attributes of nearly everyone at some time in his +life. But to do a great deed or a good deed, and to rejoice that it +has been done and the world is better for it, and not because you did +it and the world knows it, that is different. So often our modesty +consists in using as much effort to walk with hanging head and sloping +shoulders as we should need for a majestic strut. + +She called me modest. Yet there I sat in my old khaki uniform. It was +ragged and dirty, and I was proud of it. It was a bit thin for a +chilly autumn day, but in spite of Tim's expostulation I had worn it, +refusing his offers of a warmer garb. I was clinging to my glory. +While I had on that old uniform, I was a soldier. When I laid it +aside, I should become as Aaron Kallaberger and Arnold Arker. A year +hence people would ask me if I had been a railroad man in my time. + +She called me modest. That very morning Tim told me she was coming. +She had made some jellies, so she said, for the soldier of the valley. +They were her offering to the valley's idol. She thought the idol +would consume them, for bachelor cooking was never intended for +bachelor invalids. Tim had mentioned this casually. I suspected that +he believed that the visit to me was simply a pretence and that she +knew he was to be working in the field by the house. But I took no +chances. In the seclusion of my room I brushed every speck off the +uniform and made sure that every inch of it fitted snugly and without +an unnecessary wrinkle. Then when my hair had been parted and smoothed +down, I crowned myself with my campaign hat at the dashingest possible +tilt. Thus arrayed I fixed myself on the porch, to be smoking my pipe +in a careless, indifferent way when she came. An egotist, you say--a +vain man. No--just a man. For who when She comes would not look his +best? We prate a lot about the fair sex and its sweet vanities. Yet +it takes us less time to do our hair simply because it is shorter. + +When Mary comes! The gate latch clicked and I whistled the +sprightliest air I knew. Down in the field Tim appeared from the maze +of corn-stalks and looked my way beneath a shading hand. There were +foot-falls on the porch. Had they been light I should have kept on +whistling in that careless way; but now I looked up, startled. Before +me stood not Mary, but Josiah Nummler. + +[Illustration: Josia Nummler.] + +It was kind of Josiah to come, for he is an old man and lives a full +mile above the village, half way up the ridge-side. He is very fat, +too, from much meditation, and to aid his thin legs in moving his bulky +body he carries a very long stick, which he uses like a paddle to +propel him; so when you see him in the distance he seems to be standing +in a canoe, sweeping it along. Really he is only navigating the road. +He had a clothes-prop with him that day, and pausing at the end of the +porch, he leaned on it and gasped. I ought to have been pleased to see +Josiah. + +"Well, Mark," he said, "I am glad you're home. Mighty! but you look +improved." + +He gasped again and smiled through his bushy beard. + +"Thank you," said I, icily, waving him toward a chair. + +Josiah sat down and smiled again. + +"It just does me good to see you," he said, having completely recovered +his power of speech. "I should have come down last night, Mark. I +'pologize for not doin' it, but it's mighty troublesome gittin' 'round +in the dark. The last time I tried it, I caught the end of my stick +between two rocks and it broke. There I was, left settin' on the Red +Hill with no way of gittin' home. I was in for comin' down here to +receive you--really I was--but my missus says she ain't a-goin' to have +me rovin' 'round the country that 'ay agin. 'Gimme an extry oar,' I +says. And she says: 'Does you 'spose I'll let you run 'round lookin' +like a load of wood?' And I says----" + +The gate latch clicked. Again Tim appeared from the maze of corn and +stood shading his eyes and gazing toward the house. Now the footfalls +were light. And Mary came! But how could I look careless and dashing, +with Josiah Nummler in the chair I had fixed so close to mine? Rising, +I bowed as awkwardly as possible. I insisted on her taking my own +rocker, while I fixed myself on the floor with a pillar for a +back-rest. Not a word did the girl say, but she sat there clutching +the little basket she held in her lap. + +"Eggs?" inquired Josiah. + +She shook her head, but did not enlighten him. + +"I should judge your hens ain't layin' well, figurin' on the size of +the basket," said the old man, ignoring her denial. "There's a +peculiarity about the hens in this walley--it's somethin' I've noticed +ever since I was a boy. I've spoke to my missus about it and she has +noticed the same thing since she was a girl--so it must be a +peculiarity. The hens in this walley allus lays most when the price of +eggs is lowest." + +This was a serious problem. It is not usual for Josiah to be serious, +either, for he is generally out of breath or laughing. Now he was +wagging his head solemnly, pulling his beard, and over and over +repeating, "But hens is contrary--hens is contrary." + +Mary contrived to drop the basket to her side, out of the old man's +sight. + +"Speakin' of hens," he went on. "My missus was sayin' just yesterday +how as----" + +Tim was shouting. He was calling something to me. I could not make +out what it was, for the wind-was rustling the corn-shocks, but I arose +and feigned to listen. + +"It's Tim," said I. "He's calling to you, Josiah. It's something +about your red heifer." + +"Red heifer--I haven't no red heifer," returned the old man. + +"Did I say heifer? I should have said hog--excuse me," said I, blandly. + +"But I have killed all my hogs," Josiah replied, undisturbed. + +Tim shouted again, making a trumpet of his hands. To this day I don't +know what he was calling to us, but when this second message reached +Josiah's ears, it concerned some cider we had, that Tim was anxious to +know if he would care for. At the suggestion Josiah's face became very +earnest, and a minute later he was hurrying down the field to the spot +where Tim's hat and Tip Pulsifer's shaggy hair showed above the wreck +of a corn-shock. + +"How could you hear what Tim was saying?" Mary asked. + +It was almost the first word she had spoken to me, and I was in my +chair again, and she was where I had planned so cunningly to have her. + +"I know my brother's voice," I answered gravely. + +"I couldn't make out a word," said she, "but it isn't like him to let +an old man go tottering over fields to see him. He would have come up +here." + +"I guess he would." There was a twinkle in her eyes and I knew it was +useless to dissemble. "Tim and I are different. I never hesitate to +use strategy to get my chair, even at the expense of a feeble old man." + +"How gallant you are," she said with a touch of scorn. + +"You must not scold," I cried. "Remember I had reason, after all. You +did not come to see Josiah Nummler." + +She was taken by surprise. It was brutal of me. But somehow the old +reckless spirit had come back. I was speaking as a soldier should to a +fair woman, bold and free. That's what a woman likes. She hates a man +who stutters love. And while I did not own to myself the least passion +for the girl, I had seen just enough of her on the evening before and I +had smoked just enough over her that morning to be in a sentimental +turn of mind that was amusing. And I gained my point. She turned her +head so as almost to hide her face from me, and I heard a gentle laugh. + +"All's fair in love and war," I said, "and were Josiah twice as old, I +should be justified in using those means to this end." + +Then I rocked. There is something so sociable about rocking. And I +smoked. There is something so sociable about smoking. For a moment +the girl sat quietly, screening her face from me. Then she began +rocking too, and I caught a sidelong glance of her eye, and the color +mounted to her cheeks, and we laughed together. + +So it came that she suddenly stopped her rocking, and dropping the +little basket at my feet, exclaimed: "I love soldiers--just love them!" + +Then I told her that I must keep Perry Thomas's oration going to the +end, and she leaned toward me, her hands clasped, her eyes fixed on +mine and asked: "But will you?" + +"I can make no promises," I answered. "They say our bodies change +entirely every seven years. Mark Hope, age fifty, will be a different +man from Mark Hope, age twenty-three. He may have nothing to boast +about himself, and his distorted mind may magnify the deeds of the +younger man. Now the younger man refuses to commit himself. He will +not be in any way responsible for his successors." + +"How wise you are!" she cried. + +"Wise?" I exclaimed, searching her face for a sign of mockery. But +there was none. + +"I mean you talk so differently from the others in the valley. Either +they talk of crops or weather, or they sit in silence and just look +wise. I suppose you have travelled?" + +"As compared to most folks in Black Log I am a regular Gulliver," I +answered. "My father was a much-travelled man. He was an Englishman +and came to the valley by chance and settled here, and to his dying day +he was a puzzle to the people. That an Englishman should come to Six +Stars was a phenomenon. That Isaac Bolum and Henry Holmes should be +born here was no mere chance--it was a law of nature." + +"And this English father?" + +"He married, and then Tim and I came to Black Log." + +"Like Isaac Bolum and Henry Holmes?" + +"Exactly; and we should have grown like them, but our father was a +bookish man, and with him we travelled; we went with Dickens and +Thackeray and those fellows, and as we came to different places in the +books, he told us all about them. He'd seen them all, so we got to +know his country pretty well. Once he took us to Harrisburg, and by +multiplying everything we saw there, Tim and I were able to picture all +the great cities of the world--for instance, London is five hundred +times Harrisburg." + +"But why didn't you go to see the places yourself?" + +"Why doesn't everybody in Black Log go to Florida in winter or take the +waters at Carlsbad? We did plan a great trip--father and mother and +Tim and I--we were going to England together when the farm showed a +surplus. We never saw that surplus. I went to Philadelphia once. +It's a grand place, but I had just enough of money to keep me there two +days and bring me home. Then the war came. And now Tim thinks I've +been around the world. He's jealous, for he has never been past +Harrisburg; but I've really gone around a little circle. I've seen +just enough of flying fishes to hanker after Mandalay, just enough of +Spaniards to long for a sight of Spain. But they've shipped me home +and here I am anchored. Here I shall stay until that surplus +materializes; and you know in our country we have neither coal nor oil +nor iron." + +"But they tell me that you are to teach the school," she said. + +"For which I am grateful," I answered. "Twenty dollars a month is the +salary, and school keeps for six months, so I shall earn the large sum +of $120 a year." + +"But your pension?" + +"With my pension I shall be a nabob in Six Stars. Anywhere else I +should cut a very poor figure. But after all, this is the best place, +for is there any place where the skies are bluer; is there any place +where the grass is greener; is there any place where the storms are +wilder than over our mountains?" + +"Sometimes I would say in Kansas," the girl answered. "Here the world +seems to end at the top of the mountain. It is hard to picture +anything beyond that. Out there you raise yourself on tiptoe, and you +see the world rolling away for miles and miles, and it seems to have no +ending." + +"I suppose you will not be able to endure your imprisonment. Some day +you will go back to Kansas." + +"Some day--perhaps," she laughed. "But now I am a true Black Logger. +Look at my gown." + +It was the gray Dunkard dress--the concession to her uncle's beliefs on +worldliness. It was the first time I had noticed it. + +"That is not the garb of Black Log," I said. "It was designed long ago +in Germany, after patterns from Heaven." + +"And designed by men," said Mary, laughing; "forced by them on a sex +which wears ribbons as naturally as a bird does feathers." + +"In other words, when you came to live with your pious uncle, he picked +you?" + +"Exactly," she said; "but I submitted humbly. I came here, as I +supposed, a fairly good Christian, with an average amount of piety and +an average number of faults. My worldliness shocked my uncle, and +being a peaceful person, I let him pick me. But I rebelled at the +bonnet--spare me from one of those coal-scuttles--I'll go to the stake +first." + +In her defiance she swung her own straw hat wildly around on the +string. Pausing, she smoothed out the gray gown and eyed it critically. + +"Was such a thing ever intended for a woman to wear!" she exclaimed. + +"For most women, surely not," said I. "Few could carry that handicap +and win. But after all, your uncle means it kindly. He acts from +interest in your soul's welfare." + +Mary's face became serious. + +"Yes," she said, "he has paid me the highest compliment a man can pay +to a woman--he wants to meet me in Heaven." + +How could I blame Luther Warden? + +I had forgotten my uniform and my glory, my hair and my hat, and was +leaning forward with my eyes on the girl. And she was leaning toward +me and our heads were very close. The rebellious brown hair was almost +in the shade of my own dashing hat-brim. + +Then I said to myself in answer to the poet, "Here's the cheek that +doth not fade, too much gazed at." For its color was ever changing. +And again I said to myself and to the poet, when my glance had met +hers, and the color was mounting higher: "Here's the maid whose lip +mature is ever new; here's the eye that doth not weary." And now +aloud, forgetfully, leaning back in my chair and gazing at her from +afar off--"Here's the face one would meet in every place." + +Mary's chair flew back, and it was for her to gaze at me from afar off. + +"What were you saying?" she demanded in a voice not "so very soft." + +"Was I saying anything?" I answered, feigning surprise. "I thought I +was only thinking. But you were speaking of Luther Warden." + +"Was I?" she said, more quietly, but in an absent tone. + +"You said he had paid you a great compliment, but do you know----" + +I paused, being a bit nervous, and flushed, for she was looking right +at me. Not till she turned away did I finish. + +"Do you know," I went on, "last night when I saw you, I thought we must +have met before, and I thought if I had met you anywhere before, it +must have been in Heaven." + +I had expected that at a time like this Josiah Nummler would appear. +In that I was disappointed. In his place, with a bark and a bound, +came a lithe setter, a perfect stranger to me, and Mary seized the long +head in her hands and cried: "Why, Flash--good Flash." + +She completely ignored my last remark, and patted the dog and talked to +him. + +"Isn't he a beauty?" she cried. "He is Mr. Weston's." + +"Whose?" I asked, concealing my irritation. "Mr. Weston--and who is +Mr. Weston?" + +Mary held up a warning finger. There were footfalls on the gravel walk +around the house. + +"Sh," she whispered, "here he comes--no one knows who he is." + +To this day Robert Weston's age is a mystery to me; I might venture to +guess that it is between thirty and fifty. Past thirty all men begin +to dry up or fatten, and he was certainly a lean person. His face was +hidden beneath a beard of bristling, bushy red, and he had a sharp hook +nose and small, bright eyes. From his appearance you could not tell +whether he was a good man or a bad one, wise or stupid, kind-hearted or +a brute. He seemed of a neutral tone. His clothes marked him as a man +of the city, for we do not wear shooting jackets, and breeches and +leather leggings in our valley. In the way he wore them there was +something that spoke the man of the world, for in such a costume we of +Black Log should feel dressed up and ill at ease; but his clothes +seemed a part of him. They looked perfectly comfortable and he was +unconscious of them. This is where the city men have an advantage over +us country-breds. I can carry off my old clothes without being +awkward. I could enter a fine drawing-room in the patched blouse I +wear a-hunting with more ease than in that solemn-looking frock-coat I +bought at the county town five years ago. In that garment I feel that +"I am." No one could ever convince me that I am a mere thought, a +dream, a shadow. Every pull in the shoulders, every hitch in the back, +every kink in the sleeves makes me a profound materialist. But I don't +suppose Weston would bother spreading the tails out when he sat down. +I doubt if he would know he had it on. He is so easy in his ways. I +saw that as he came swinging around the house, and I envied him for it. + +"Well, I am in luck!" he cried cheerfully. "Here I came to see the +valley's soldier and I find him holding the valley's flower." + +This to me was rather an astounding thing to say, and if he intended to +disable me in the first skirmish he succeeded admirably, for my only +answer was a laugh; and the more I laughed the more foolish and +slow-witted I felt. I wanted to run to Mary's aid, but I did not know +how, and while I was rummaging my brain for some way to meet him, she +was answering him valiantly. + +"Almost, but not quite," she said. "But he has earned the right to +hold the valley's flower entirely--whoever she may he. It's a pity, +Mr. Weston, you have not been doing so, too, instead of loafing around +the valley all summer long." + +She did not speak sharply to him, and that angered me. She was smiling +as she spoke, and he did not seem to mind it at all. + +"I came to see the veteran," he said, "and not to be scolded." + +"You may have my chair then." Mary was rising. "I shall leave you to +the veteran--if he does not object." + +She was moving away. + +"Then I shall have to go with you," said the stranger calmly, "if the +veteran doesn't object. He knows a woman should not go unattended +around the valley. He'd rather see me doing my duty than having a +sociable pipe with him and hearing about the war. How about it, Hope?" + +He did not stop to hear my answer. Had he waited a moment instead of +striding after the girl, with his dog at his heels, he might have seen +my reply. + +[Illustration: He did not stop to hear my answer.] + +I raised my pipe above my head and hurled it against the fence, where +it crashed into a score of pieces. + + + + +V + +"Who is Robert Weston?" I asked of Tim. + +"If you can answer that question Theophilus Jones will give you a +cigar," replied my brother. "He has tried to find out; he has +cross-questioned every man, woman, and child that comes to his store, +and he admits that he is beaten." + +"When Theop can't find out, the mystery is impenetrable." I recalled +our suave storekeeper and his gentle way of drawing from his customers +their life secrets as he leaned blandly over the counter with his sole +thought apparently to do their commands. Theophilus had known that I +was going to enlist long before I had made up my own mind. He had told +Tim that I was coming home before he had handed him the postal card on +which I had scrawled a few lines announcing my return. So when I heard +that Weston was still a puzzle to him I knew that Six Stars had a +mystery. For Six Stars to have a mystery is unusual. Occasionally we +are troubled with ghosts and such supernatural demonstrations, which +cause us to keep at home at night, but we soon forget these things if +we do not solve them. But for our village to number among its people a +man whose whole history and whose family history was not known was +unheard of. For such a man to be here six weeks and not enlighten us +was hardly to be dreamed of. Robert Weston had dared it. Even Tim +regarded the matter as serious. + +"It is suspicious," he said, shaking his head gravely. + +He was cleaning up the supper dishes at the end of the table opposite +me. By virtue of my recent return I had not fallen altogether into our +household ways as yet, and sat smoking and watching him. + +"It's mighty odd," he went on. "At noon one day, about six weeks ago, +Weston rode up to the tavern on a bicycle and told Elmer Spiker he was +going to stay to dinner. He loafed about all that afternoon, and +stayed that day and the next, and ever since. First there came a trunk +for him, and then a dog. You see him about all the time, for when he +isn't walking, he's loafing around the tavern, or is over at the store, +arguing with Henry Holmes or Isaac Bolum. Yet all we know about him is +that he's undecided how long he'll stay and that he has lived in New +York." + +"Has no one asked him point-blank what he is doing here?" + +"No. Isaac Bolum declares every day that he is going to, but when the +time comes he breaks down. Every other means of finding out has been +taken." + +"Josiah Nummler told me to-day he believed Weston was a detective." + +"That was Elmer Spiker's theory. But, as Theop says, who is he +detecting?" + +Theophilus settled that theory conclusively, in my mind, at least, for +I knew every man, woman, and child in the valley; and taking a mental +census, I could find no one who seemed to require watching by a +hawkshaw. + +"Perry Thomas guessed he was an embezzler," said Tim, putting the last +dish in the cupboard and sitting down to his pipe. "Perry says Weston +is the best-learned man he ever met, and that embezzlers are naturally +educated or they would not be in places where they could embezzle." + +"A truly Perryan argument," said I; "and after all, a reasonable one, +for no one would think of looking here for a fugitive." + +"That's just what Perry says," rejoined Tim. "But Theop has read every +line in the papers for weeks, and he swears that no embezzlers are +missing now." + +"Perhaps his crime is still concealed," I ventured. + +"That was just what Isaac Bolum thought," Tim answered. "But Henry +Holmes says no missing criminal is likely to have a setter dog shipped +to him. He says such a man might send for his clothes, but he would +draw the line on dogs." + +"Perhaps he has deserted his wife," I said, seeing at last a possible +solution of the mystery. + +"That's what Arnold Arker suggested just a few days ago," returned Tim; +"but Tip Pulsifer allowed that no fellow would have to come so far to +desert his wife." + +"Tip ought to know," said I, "for he deserts his once a year, +regularly." + +"He always comes back the next day," retorted Tim stoutly. + +My brother has always been Tip's champion in his matrimonial +disagreements, and whenever Pulsifer flees across the mountain, +swearing terrible oaths that he will never return, Tim goes straight to +the clearing on the ridge and talks long and seriously to the deserted +wife about her duty. + +[Illustration: Swearing terrible oaths that he will never return.] + +But there was reason in Tip's contention regarding Weston. Indeed, +from Tim's account of events, I could see that the store had very +thoroughly threshed out the whole case and that the problem was not one +that could be solved by abstract reasoning. There was only one person +to solve it, and that was Robert Weston himself. + +I knew enough of the world to know that it was not an unheard-of thing +for a man to settle for a time in an out-of-the-way village. I knew +enough of men to understand that he might consider it nobody's business +why he cared to live among us. I had enough sense of humor to see that +he might find amusement in enveloping himself in mystery and sparring +with the sly sages of the store and tavern. By right I should have +stood by and watched the little game; I should have encouraged Isaac +Bolum and Henry Holmes to apply the interrogating probe; I should have +warned Weston of the plotting at the store to lay bare the secret of +his life; I should have brought the contending parties together and +enjoyed the duello. Instead, I had to admit to myself a curiosity as +to the stranger's identity that equalled, if it did not surpass, that +of Theophilus Jones. His was curiosity pure and simple; mine was +something more. Weston had come quietly into my own castle, had taken +complete possession of it for a moment, and then calmly walked away +with the fairest thing it held--and all so quietly and with an air that +in a thousand years of practice, I or none other in the valley could +have simulated. The picture was still sharp in my mind as I sat there +smoking and drawing Tim out; for when I had vented my anger on my pipe +that morning I had hurried to the gate to watch my departing visitors +as they swung down the village street. Weston, lanky and erect, moved +with a masterful stride, not unlike the lean and keen-witted setter +that flashed to and fro over the road before him. At his side was the +girl, a slender body in drab, tossing her hat gayly about at the end of +its long string. They passed the store and the mill, and at the bend +were lost to my view. They seemed to find themselves such good +company! Even Tim, so fine and big, had in this homely, lanky man a +rival well worth watching. + +And who was the quiet, lanky man? Over and over I asked myself the +question, and when I touched its every phase I found that Henry Holmes +or Isaac Bolum, some one of the store worthies, had met defeat there +before me. At last I gave up, and by a sudden thought arose and pulled +on my overcoat, and got my hat. Tim was surprised. + +"You are not going out?" he said. + +"I think I'll stroll down to the tavern and see this stranger," I +replied carelessly. "No, you needn't come. I can find my way alone +all right, for the moon will be up and it's only a step." + +It did seem to me that Tim might insist on bearing me company, knowing +as he did that I was still a bit rickety; but he saw fit to take my one +refusal as final, and muttered something about reading. Then, I left +him. + +It has been years since they have had a license at our tavern, so there +was a solitary man in the bar-room when I entered. Elmer Spiker, mine +host of the inn, was huddled close to the stove, and was reading by the +light of a lamp. Pausing at the threshold before opening the door, the +sonorous mumble sounding through the deal panels misled me. Believing +the Spiker family at prayers, I stood reverently without until the +service seemed to last too long to be one of devotion. Then I opened a +crack and peeked in. Seeing a lone man at the distant end of the room, +I entered. Elmer's back was toward me and my presence was unnoticed. +His eyes were on the paper before him. + +"W. J. Mandelberger, of Martins Mills, was among us last Friday," he +read, slowly, distinctly, measuring every word. "He paid his +subscription for the year and informed us that Mrs. Mandelberger had +just presented him with a bouncing baby boy. Congratulations, W. J." + +I coughed apologetically, but Elmer rattled the paper just then, and +did not notice me. + +He went rumbling on: "William Arker, of Popolomus, and Miss Myrtle +McGee, of Turkey Valley, were united in the holy bonds of matrimony on +the sixth ultimo." + +"Elmer," I said sharply, thumping the floor with a crutch. + +Spiker turned slowly. + +"Oh," he exclaimed, "is that you? Excuse me; I was reading the news. +Everybody ought to keep up with what's happenin'. The higher up we +gits on the ladder of human intelligence, the more news we have--we can +see furder." + +Having evolved this sage remark, Elmer twisted back to his old position +and raised the paper. + +"Now mind this," he said. "Jonas Parker and his wife and four of his +children were----" + +"See here," I cried, pounding the floor again. "I don't care for Jonas +Parker and all of his children. Where is Mr. Weston?" + +"Oh," said Elmer, "excuse me. I thought you had come to see me. It's +Weston, eh? Well, his room's just there at the head of the stairs." + +He pointed to the door which gave an entrance to the rear hall, but as +I wished to be a bit formal in my call on the stranger, I suggested +that Mr. Spiker might oblige me by seeing if the gentleman was at home. +This seemed entirely unnecessary to mine host, and he wanted to argue +the point. But I insisted, and he arose with a sigh, and taking the +lamp in his hand, disappeared, leaving me in utter darkness. The door +banged shut behind him and I heard him at the foot of the stairs +roaring "Ho-ho-there-ho!" + +No answer came from the floor above. Again sounded the stentorian +tones. + +"Mark says as if you are there, you're to come down; he wants to see +you." + +A last "Ho-there-ho"; a long silence; the door opened. There was light +again and Elmer was before me. + +"He ain't there, I guess," he said. "Still, if you want me to make +sure, I'll go up." + +[Illustration: No answer came from the floor above.] + +Inasmuch as mine host's cries must still be echoing in the uttermost +parts of the house, it seemed needless to compel him to take the climb. +Spiker agreed with me. It was not surprising that Weston was out, for +he was an odd one, always spooking around somewhere, investigating +everything, and asking questions. His room was full of books in +various languages, and when he wasn't wandering about the valley, he +would be sitting reading far into the night--sometimes as late as +half-past ten. There was a fellow named Goth, who seemed to be +Weston's favorite writer. This Goth was a Pennsylvania Dutchman, and +as Elmer's own ancestors were from Allentown, he thought he'd like to +take up the language, so he'd borrowed from his guest a book called +"The Sorrows of Werther." Of all the rubbish that was ever wrote, them +"Sorrows" were the poorest. Elmer had only figured out a page and a +half, but that gave him enough insight into their character to convince +him that a man who could set reading them till half-past ten was--here +mine host tapped his forehead and winked. Curious chap, Weston. Elmer +had seen a heap of men in his time and never met the like. There's no +way to get to see men and understand them like keeping a hotel. When +you've "kept" for about forty years, there's hardly a man comes along +that you can't set right down in his particular class before he's even +registered. But Weston had blocked him at every turn. Elmer knew no +more of the man now than on the day he came. In fact, he was getting +more and more tangled up about him all the time. For instance, why +should one who could read Goth and understand the "Sorrows," want to +set around the store and argue with such-like ignoramuses as Ike Bolum +and Hen Holmes? Spiker was willing to bet that right now Weston was +over the way trying to prove to them that two and two was four. + +The suggestion seemed a likely one, so I interrupted the flow of +Elmer's troubled thoughts to say good-night, and went out. I paused a +moment on the porch. A lamp was blazing in the store and I could +plainly see everyone gathered along the counter. Henry Holmes was +standing with his back to the stove, one hand wagging up and down at +the solemn line of figures on the bench. But Weston was not there. +And in our valley, when a man is not at home o'night he should be at +the store, else there is a mystery to be solved. To solve this one I +stopped on the tavern steps, leaned against a pillar, and gazed through +the dozing village. + +At the head of the street where our house stood a bright light burned. +There Tim was and there I should be also. A hundred times down South +on my post at night, with my back on the rows and rows of white tents, +I had sought to pierce the black gloom before me as if there I could +see that same light--the home light. Often I fancied I saw it, and in +its bright circle Tim was bending over his book. Here it was in truth, +calling me, but I turned from it and looked away over the flats, where +another light was winking on the hillside. + +Behind that hill, on the eastward ridge, a great ball is glowing, fiery +red. Higher and higher it rises, into the tree-tops, then over them; +higher and higher, bathing the valley in soft, white light, uncovering +the gray road that climbs the ridge-side; higher and higher, until the +pines on the ridge-top stand out boldly, fringing into the sky; higher +and higher, casting mysterious shadows over the meadows, touching with +light the hillside, new-ploughed and naked; clear and white lies the +road over the flats to the hill there--clear and white and smooth. On +the hillside the light is burning. It is only a short half mile, and +the way is easy. In the old house at the end of the street another +light is blinking solemnly. Beneath it Tim is waiting. He misses me. +He wonders why I am so long. Soon he will be coming. Base deserter, +truly! But for once--this once--for the white road over the flat and +up the hillside leads to the light! + + + + +VI + +"Why, Mark, but you did give me a start!" cried Luther Warden, laying +down his book and hurrying forward to greet me. + +It was not surprising that the good man should be taken back, for in +all the years we had lived together in the valley this was my first +evening visit. So unusual an occurrence required an explanation, so I +said that I just happened to be taking a stroll and dropped in for a +minute. I glanced at Mary to see if she understood my feeble +subterfuge, but I met only a frank smile, as though, like her uncle, +she believed that I was likely to go hobbling about on moonlight nights +this way. Luther never doubted me. + +"It's good of you to drop in," he said, after he had fixed me in his +own comfortable chair and drawn up the settee for himself. "When I was +livin' alone up here I often used to wish some of you young folks would +come in of an evenin' and keep me company and join me in readin' the +Good Book. It used to be lonely sometimes, but since I've got Mary it +ain't so bad. But I hope her bein' here won't make no difference, and +now as you've started you'll come just the same as if I was alone." + +I assured him that I would come just the same. That made Mary laugh. +She had been sitting in the lamp-lit circle, and now she rocked back +into the shade, so, craning my neck, I could just see the dark outline +of her face. She made some commonplace but kindly speech of welcome, +and I was about to engage her, seeking to draw her from the shadow, +when her uncle suddenly interposed himself between us and took a book +from the table. Drawing the settee closer to the light, he opened the +great volume across his knees and adjusted his spectacles. Throwing +back his head and looking at me benignly from under his glasses, he +said: "It's peculiarly fortunate you come to-night, Mark. When you +knocked I was readin' aloud to Mary. We read together every night now, +her and me, and most instructin' we find it." + +I told Luther that it was too much for me to allow him to wear out his +eyes reading to me; much as I should enjoy it, I could not hear of it, +but I would ask him to let me have the volume when he had finished with +it. It did seem that this should bring Mary into the light again, and +that she would support my protests; but calmly and quietly she spoke +from the darkness, like a voice from another world, "Go on, Uncle +Luther; I want Mr. Hope to hear this." + +Now had Mary Warden called me by my Christian name she would have +followed the custom of our valley and it would have passed unnoticed; +but when she used that uncalled-for "Mister" her uncle looked around +sharply. First he tried to pierce the shadows and see her, but she +drew farther and farther into the darkness. So he gazed at me. He was +beginning to suspect that after all I had not come to see him. Had +Mark Hope become proud? Was Mary falling again into the ways of the +wicked world from which he was striving so hard to wean her, that she +should thus address one of the humblest of God's creatures, a mere man? +Old Luther rubbed his spectacles very carefully and slowly; blowing on +them and rubbing them again; finally adjusting them, he leaned forward +and tried to study the girl's face, to find there some solution of the +puzzle. + +"Read to Mr. Hope," she said clearly, and with just a touch of defiance. + +Had she used some endearing term the old man could not have frowned +harder than when he turned on me then, and eyed me through his great +spectacles. + +"Yes, read to us, Luther," said I calmly; "Miss Warden and I will +listen." + +"God has been very good to me," said the old man solemnly, "and I've +not yet heard Him call me Mister Luther Warden. I s'pose with you and +your kind, when He comes to you, He calls you Mister Mark Hope." + +This rather took me back, and I stammered a feeble protest, but he did +not heed me. Turning to Mary, he went on: "And you, Mary Warden, I +s'pose at such times you are 'Miss.' What wanity! What wanity! +Politeness, they calls it. Politeness? Well, in the great eternity, +up above, where they speaks from the heart, you'll be just Mark and +just Mary. But down yander--yander, mind ye--the folks will probably +set more store by titles." The old preacher was pointing solemnly in +the direction of the cellar. + +There was a long pause, an interval of heavy silence. Then from Mary +in the darkness came, "Well, Uncle, let us hope that when we reach that +great eternity, Mark and I will be good enough friends to lay aside +such vanities." + +"Right!" cried Luther, smiling again, and speaking real heartily. + +"Right," said I; "and we'll begin eternity to-day, won't we, Mary?" + +"We will," said she. + +And in my heart I blessed Luther Warden. Guilelessly, the old man, in +a few words, had swept away the barrier Mary and I had raised between +us. He had added years to our friendship. So had he stopped there it +would have been wonderfully well; but he had to go floundering +innocently on. He was laughing softly. + +"Do you know, Mark," he said, rubbing his spectacles nervously, "she +made me jealous of you when she talked that way. I thought she'd set +her cap for you, I did. Whenever a man and woman gits polite, whenever +they has to bow and scrape that way, a-misterin' and a-missin' one +another, they're hiding somethin'; they ain't actin' open. So I was +beginnin' to think mebbe she wanted to marry you and----" + +"Go on reading--please read to us," pleaded Mary. + +"Yes, do read to us," I echoed, for the position was a new one to me, +and at best I am awkward and slow-witted where women are concerned. I +could not adroitly turn the old man's wandering speculation into a +general laugh as Weston would have done. My best was to break in +rudely. + +"Well--if I must," Luther said, opening the great book across his knees. + +A long silence followed. I heard the solemn ticking of the clock on +the mantel behind me; I heard Mary laughing softly in her retreat +beyond the table; I heard Luther, now bending over his book, mumbling +to himself a few words of the text. + +"It is about the faymine in Injy," he said at last, holding his place +on the page with a long, thin forefinger, and looking up at me. "There +are three volumes, and this is the second. The third is yit to come. +I pay a dollar a year and every year I gits a new volume. It's a grand +book, too, Mark. It was wrote by one of our brethren, Brother Matthias +Pennel, who went to Injy in charge of a shipload of grain gathered by +our people for the sufferin' heathen. The first volume tells all about +the gittin' up of the subscription and the sailin' of the wessel. +Brother Matthias is a grand writer, and he tells all about Injy and the +heathen, and how the wessel reached the main place there--what's the +place, Mary?--you're allus good on geography!" + +"Calcutta," prompted Mary. + +"Yes, I mind now--Calcutty. Well, from there Brother Matthias went up +into the country called--I can't just mind the exact name--oh, here it +is--B-a-l-l-e-r-r-a-d Ballerrad--e-r-a-d--Ballerraderad." + +Luther paused and sighed. "Them names--them names!" he exclaimed. "If +there is one thing that convinces me that the story of the Tower of +Babel is true, it is the names of the towns in Injy." + +It seemed to me that perhaps from the viewpoint of the East Indian, the +same thing might be said of our "villes" and "burgs," and I was about +to raise my voice in behalf of the maligned heathen, when my host +resumed his discourse. + +"When you come in, I was readin' about a poor missionary woman in +Baller--Baller--Ballerraderad--whose Sunday-school had been largely eat +up by taggers. Her name was Flora Martin, Brother Matthias says, and +she was one of the saintliest women he ever seen. He tells how the +month before he come to Baller--Baller--Baller-daddad--an extry large +tagger had been sneakin' around the mission-house, a-watchin' for +scholars, and how one day, when, according to Brother Matthias, this +here Flora Martin, armed only with a rifle and girded about with the +heavenly sperrit--how this here Flora----" + +There was a ponderous knock on the door, and then the knob began to +rattle violently. The bolt had been shot, so Luther had to rise in +haste to admit the new-comer, leaving Flora Martin with nothing but the +rifle and the heavenly spirit. + +Perry Thomas stepped in. + +"I just happened to be passin' and thought I'd drop in for a spell," he +said, with a profound bow to Mary, who arose to greet him. + +This apology of Perry's was as absurd as mine had been, for he lived a +mile on the other side of the village; and as the next house was over +the ridge, a good three miles away, it was odd that he should be +wandering aimlessly about thus. Besides, he had on his new Prince +Albert, and there was a suspicion of a formal call in the smoothly +oiled hair and tallowed boots. He carried his fiddle, too. There was +to my mind every evidence that the visit had been preconceived, and to +this point had been carried out with an eye on every detail. Had the +contrary been true, there would have been no cause for Perry to glare +at me as he did. The he-ro in blue was anything but welcome now. +Indeed, it seemed that could Perry's wish have been complied with, I +should be back on the "lead-strewn fields of Cuby." + +Mary was most cordial. She seized his fiddle and his hat and stowed +them carefully away together, while Luther, pushing the latest visitor +to a place at his side on the settee, told him how fortunate he was to +drop in just at that time, as he would hear a few interesting things +about the famine in India. + +Perry was positively ungrateful. He declared that he could only stay a +minute at the most, and that it was really not worth Luther's while to +begin reading. Mary said that she would not hear of him leaving. She +had hidden his hat and would insist on his playing; that was, if I did +not mind and her uncle gave his permission. Perry smiled. There was +less fire in his eyes when I vowed that not till I had listened again +to the song of his beloved violin would I stir from my chair. So he +settled back to pay the price and hear the story of Flora Martin and +the tiger. + +Luther repeated his account of the book and the story of Brother +Matthias Pennel. He told Perry of Sister Flora and her saintly +character, and of the devastation by the fierce king of the Bengal +jungle. He brought us again to where the frail little woman determined +to fight death with death. And here, in low, rumbling tones, letter by +letter, word by word, we took up the narrative of the adventurous +Dunker brother. + +"Thus armed with only a heavy elephant rifle, the property of the +foreign missionary society, and clad only in grace, Flora Martin began +her lonely vigil on the roof of the mission-house, which is used both +as a dwelling and Sunday-school by those who are carrying light to the +heathen in Ballerraderad, which, we must remember, is one of the most +populous provinces in all Injy. This combined dwelling and church +edifice stands at the far end of the little village, and as the lonely +Indian moon was just rising above the horizon, Sister Flora heard a +series of catlike footsteps along the veranda beneath her--for we must +remember that in this part of our globe the nights are strangely still +and the sounds therefore carry for a great distance. Breathlessly +Flora Martin, mindful of the slumbering innocent charges sleeping below +her, and over whom she was watching, leaned out over the roof, rifle in +hand. The footsteps came nearer and nearer and----" + +There was a gentle rat-tat-tat on the door. It was so gentle that +Luther thought his ears were deceiving him, for while he stopped +reading, he made no motion to rise, but sat listening. Again they +came, three polite taps, seeming to say, "I should like to get in, but +pray don't disturb yourself." + +"Come in," shouted the old preacher, not even looking around, for he +still seemed to doubt his sense of hearing. + +The door opened quietly and Mr. Robert Weston appeared before us. Mary +had slipped from her place to meet him, and in Weston's greeting to her +I had my first lesson in what the world calls manner. How clumsy +seemed my own excuses for coming at all, compared to his pleasure at +finding her at home! He had been looking forward all afternoon to +seeing her again. As he shook hands with Luther, he was so hearty that +the old man took his guest by the shoulders and declared fervidly that +he was rejoiced that he had come. Weston did not glare at Perry +Thomas, nor at me either. We but added to his pleasure. Truly his cup +of joy was overflowing! And the famine in India--indeed--indeed! The +subject was one which interested him deeply, and if Mr. Warden cared +for it, he would send him several books on the far East which he had in +his library at home. He hoped that in return he might some time have +the pleasure of reading carefully, cover to cover, the fat volume that +Luther had spread across his knees. Meantime, he would insist on not +interrupting. But Mary must be comfortably seated before he could take +the place on the settee that Luther had arranged for him, and he must +hear all over again the story of the book, of Brother Matthias Pennel +and Sister Flora Martin. How I envied him! What must Perry and I seem +beside this lanky man with his kindly, easy ways! Perry, of course, +did not see it. He was smiling, for Weston was telling him that he had +stood at the Thomas gate for a half hour the very evening before, +listening to the strains of a violin. He hoped to hear that melody +again, when Mr. Warden had finished the story of the brave missionary +of Ballerraderad. + +The Dunker preacher was beaming. He forgot the great doctrine of +humility, and declared that "Mister" Weston should have the volume that +very night. There was nothing better to give a clear view of the +character of the work than Brother Matthias Pennel's account of the +heroism of Sister Flora. So we composed ourselves again to hear of the +battle to the death between the noble missionary woman and the mighty +Bengal. + +"Nearer and nearer came the footsteps," read Luther, pausing at each +word to make sure of it. "Furder and furder out over the top of the +mission-house leaned Sister Flora, and as she leaned she thought how +much depended on her that night; for she must remember that there were +sleeping within the walls of the mission-house forty-seven children, +thirty of which were females under the age of eleven years, and +seventeen males, of whom not one-half had reached the age of nine +years. Next she saw a dark object crouching below her. She saw two +fiery eyes; she saw the tiger gather himself preparatory to springing. +She----" + +Perry Thomas's knock had been ponderous, thunderous, and clumsy. +Weston's had been self-assured, but polite. Now came a series of raps, +now loud, now low, now quick, now slow, keeping time to a martial air. +Evidently there was a rollicking fellow outside. No one moved. We sat +there, all five of us, eyes wide open in surprise, trying to guess, who +this could be playing tunes on the door, and never seeking to solve the +simple problem by turning the knob. + +It was Tim. There was a sudden oppressive silence. Then he entered, +gravely bowing. + +"Good evening, Mr. Warden," he said mockingly. "You have a delightful +way here of greeting the stranger at your gate, closing your ears to +his appeals and letting him break in. And Miss Warden too--why, this +is a surprise. I had supposed you'd be at a ball. And Mr. +Weston--delighted--I'm sure----" + +"What, Mark?" There was genuine surprise in Tim's voice as he saw me +sitting quietly in the shadow. His mock elegance disappeared, and he +stood gaping at me. "I thought you'd gone to see Mr. Weston," he +blurted out. + +"He came to see me instead," said Mary laughing. "And so did Mr. +Weston and Mr. Thomas, and so I hope you did. And if you sit down +there by Uncle Luther and be quiet, you shall hear about the famine in +India." + +Tim just filled the settee. In my dark corner, in my comfortable +chair, I could smile to myself as I watched his plight and that of his +companions. I could not see Mary well, for the lamp and the long table +separated us, but I fancied that in her retreat she, too, was laughing. +Poor Tim had the end of the bench. He sat very erect, with his head +up, his eyes on the wall before him, his folded hands resting on his +knees, after the company manner of Black Log. Mr. Perry Thomas, at the +other end, was his counterpart, only the orator drew his chin into his +collar, furrowed his brow, and gazed wisely at the floor. He was where +Mary could see him! + +Weston had none of our stiff, formal ways, but was making himself as +much at home as possible in such trying circumstances. He spread out +all over the narrow space allotted him between Luther and my brother. +But curiously enough, he really seemed interested. It was he who told, +in greatest detail, to Tim the story of Brother Matthias Pennel and of +the trials of the saintly Flora Martin. When he had recounted her +adventures to the very instant she caught the gleam of the tiger's +eyes, he calmly swung one lank leg over the knee of the other, slid +down in his seat so he could hook his head on the hard back, and said, +cheerily, "Now, Mr. Warden, go on reading and let no one interrupt." + +Perry was coughing feebly, as he always does when he is plotting to +speak. + +"No, no," cried Weston in protest; "I insist, Mr. Thomas, that you stay +and play the violin to us when we have heard the end of this +interesting story." + +It was with mingled feelings that I regarded Brother Matthias Pennel. +As I had stood on the tavern porch that night, looking up the white +road that led to Mary's home, I had dared to picture to myself a +different scene from the one before me. From that scene Luther Warden +had been removed entirely. Of Robert Weston, of Perry Thomas, of Tim, +I had taken no account. They had not even been dreamed of, for Mary +and I were to sit alone in the quiet of the evening. The flash of her +eyes was to be for me--for me their softer glowing. At my calling the +rich flames would blaze on her cheeks. I was to light those flames. I +was to fan them this way and that way. I was to smother them, kindle +them, quench them. Playing with the fire of a woman's face! Dangerous +work, that! And up the white road I had hobbled to the fire, as a +simple child crawls to it. But Luther Warden was there to guard me +with Brother Matthias Pennel, and in my inmost heart I hated them both +for it. Then Perry Thomas blundered in, and compared to him, old +Luther and his learned brother were endurable. As to Robert Weston, I +knew that beside him Matthias Pennel was my dearest friend. Then Tim +came! and as I looked at the long settee where Luther was droning on +and on through the story of Sister Flora, where Perry Thomas seemed to +sit beneath the judgment seat, where Weston shifted wearily to and fro, +where Tim was suffering the tortures of the thumb-screw, I cried to my +inmost self, "Verily, Brother Matthias, thou art a mighty joker!" + +It took a long time to kill that tiger. There was so much recalling to +be done, so much remembering needed, and reviewing of statistics +concerning the flora and the fauna of the far East, that when at last +the rifle's cry rang out on the still night air, which, as we had +learned, in India carries sound to a much greater distance than in our +cold, Northern climes; when the mighty Bengal reeled and fell dying, +and Sister Flora sprang from her hiding place on the roof to sing a +hymn of praise; when all this had been told, Luther Warden banged the +book shut, arose, and looked at the clock. + +[Illustration: The tiger story.] + +"Mighty souls!" he cried. "It's long past bed-time. It's half-past +nine." + +Back over the white road we went, Weston and Perry, Tim and I. + +"Good-night, boys!" called the strange man cheerily from the gloom of +the tavern porch. + +It was the first word he had spoken on our walk home. + +"Is it two million five hundred and sixty thousand, or two hundred and +fifty-six thousand persons that are bitten annually by snakes in +India?" cried Tim, suddenly awaking from his moody silence. + +"You can go back to-morrow and find out," came from the porch. + +"Good-night, Mr. Weston," returned my brother sharply. + +Perry Thomas parted from us at the gate, and we stood watching his +retreating figure till we lost it at the bend. Then we went in. + +Standing at the foot of the stairs, with a lighted candle in his hand, +Tim turned suddenly to me and said, "I thought you were going to see +Weston." + +"I thought you were sitting at home waiting for me to get back," I +retorted. + +"Can I help you upstairs?" he said. + +"No, I'm going to sit awhile and smoke," I answered jauntily, "and +talk--to Captain." + + + + +VII + +Tim was leaving the valley. We tied his tin trunk on the back of the +buggy and he climbed to the seat beside me. Tip Pulsifer handed him a +great cylindrical parcel, bound in a newspaper, and my brother held it +reverently in his lap; for it was a chocolate cake, six layers high, +that Mrs. Tip had baked from the scanty contents of the Pulsifer flour +barrel. Tim was going to the city, and all the city people Mrs. Tip +had ever seen were lean, quick-moving and nervous, a condition which +she concluded was induced by starvation. So she had done her best to +provide Tim against want. Her mind was the mind of Six Stars. All the +village was about the buggy. Josiah Nummler had rowed down from his +hill-top, and the bulge in Tim's pocket was caused by the half dozen +fine pippins which the old man had brought as his farewell gift. Even +Theophilus Jones left the store unguarded, and hurried over when the +moment arrived that the village was to see the last of its favorite +son. Mrs. Tip Pulsifer is always red about the eyes, and no way was +left her to show her emotion but to toss her apron convulsively over +her face and swing Cevery wildly to and fro, so that the infant's cries +arose above the chorus of "good-bys" as we drove away. + +"Farewell, comrade." We heard Aaron Kallaberger's stentorian tones as +we clattered around the bend. "Head up--eyes front--for'a'd!" + +Tim turned and waved his hat to the little company at the gate, to all +the friends he had ever known, to the best he ever was to know; to Mrs. +Bolum and her Isaac, feebly waving the hands that had so often helped +him in time of boyish trouble; to Nanny Pulsifer and Tip; to all the +worthies of the store. + +Tim was off to war. He was going to take part in a greater battle than +I had ever seen, for I had been one of thousands who had marched +together on a common enemy. He was going forth as did Launcelot and +Galahad, alone, to meet his enemies at every turn, to be sore pressed, +and bruised and wounded; not to be as I was, a part of a machine, but +to be the machine and the god in it, too. How I envied him! He was +going forth to encounter many strange adventures, and while he was in +the press, laying about him in all the glory of his strength, fighting +his way against a mob, to fame and fortune, I should be dozing life +away with Captain. + +"Did it feel that way when you left?" said Tim. He spoke for the first +time when we passed the tannery lane, and his voice was a wee bit husky. + +"I suppose it's the same with everybody when they turn the bend," I +answered. + +"That's it exactly--at the turn in the road--when you can't see home +any more--when you'd give all the world to turn back, but dare not." +Tim had faced about and was looking over the valley as we climbed the +long slope of the ridge. "It's just like being torn in two, isn't it?" +he said. + +"Naturally," said I. "Home and home people are as much a part of you +as head and limbs. When I dragged you away, binding you here in the +buggy with your tin trunk and your ambition, something had to snap." + +"And it snapped at the bend," Tim said grimly; "when I saw the last of +the house and the rambo tree at the end of the orchard." + +My brother took to whistling. He started away bravely with a +rollicking air, keeping time to the creaking of the buggy and the slow +crunching of the horse's feet on the gravel road. Even that failed +him. We were at the crest of the hill; we were turning another bend; +we were in the woods, and through the trees he had a last look at Black +Log. And it's such a little valley, too, that it would hardly seem +worth looking back on when the rich fields of Kishikoquillas roll away +before one! The lone pine on the stone cap of Gander Knob waved its +farewell, and we clattered down the long slope into the great world. + +[Illustration: He had a last look back at Black Log.] + +"It's all over at last," said Tim, smiling, "and now I am glad I've +come; for Black Log is a good place, but it's so little, after all." + +"I'm afraid you will find it bigger than a desk in Western's office, +and a tiny room on a cramped city street," said I. + +My brother recovered his old spirit and refused to be discouraged by my +pessimistic view of his expedition. He laughed gayly and pointed +across the country where half a dozen spires of smoke were rising. +There was the railroad. There was the great highway where his real +journey was to start. There was the beginning of his great adventure. +I was the last outpost of the friendly land, and he was going into the +unknown. There we were to part! It was my turn to whistle and to +watch the wheels as, mile by mile, they measured off the road to that +last bend, where I should see no more of Tim. + + * * * * * * + +There was something strange in my brother's resolve to leave Six Stars +and try his fortunes in the city. Just as I had settled down to the +old easy ways which my absence had made doubly dear to me, when we +should have been drawn closer to each other than ever, and my +dependence on him was greatest, he announced his purpose. It was only +yesterday. I returned from my accustomed afternoon visit to the +Wardens to find him rummaging the house for a few of his more personal +belongings and stowing them away in a small, blue tin trunk that a +little while before had adorned the counter in the store. + +"I am going to New York," he said, not giving me time to inquire into +his strange proceeding. + +I laughed. Tim was joking. This was some odd prank. He had borrowed +the tin trunk and was giving me a travesty on Tip Pulsifer fleeing over +the mountain from his petulant spouse: for last night Tim and I had had +a little tiff. For the first time I had forgotten the post-prandial +pipe, and undismayed by the horrors of the famine in India or the +tribulations of Sister Flora Martin, journeyed up the road to sit at +Mary's side. + +"Over the mountain, eh, Tim?" I laughed. "And is Tip going?" + +My brother caught my meaning, but he did not smile. + +"Honest," he said. "I am going to New York." + +"To New York!" I cried. My crutches clattered to the floor as I sank +into my chair. + +"Yes," said Tim, speaking so quietly that I knew it was the truth. +"Mr. Weston has given me a position in his store. It's a tea importing +concern, and he owns it, though he doesn't spend much time at his +business." + +"I didn't think you'd leave me alone." The words were hardly spoken +till I regretted them. I had spoken in spite of my better self, for +what right had I to stand between my brother and a broader life? When +I had gone away to see the world, he had plodded on patiently in the +narrow valley to keep a home for me. Now that I was back, it was +justly his turn to go beyond the mountains and learn something more +than the dull routine of the farm and the sleepy village. + +"I hate to leave you, Mark," he said. "But you have felt as I feel +about getting away and seeing something. Still, if you really want me +to stay, I'll give it up. But you are a good deal to blame. You have +told me of what you saw when you were in the army. You have showed me +that there are bigger things in this world than plodding after a +plough, and more exciting chases than those after foxes. I want to do +more than sit on a nail-keg in the store and discuss big events. I +want to have a little part in them myself--you understand." + +"Yes, Tim," said I, "you are right, and I'll get along first rate." + +"That's the way to talk," he cried cheerfully, slapping me on the +shoulder. "You won't be half as lonely here as I shall down there in a +strange city; and when you clean away the supper dishes and light your +pipe and think of me, I'll be lighting mine and thinking of you +and----" He stopped. Captain had trotted in, and was sitting close +by, looking first at one and then at the other of us quizzically. +"You'll have Captain," added Tim, laughing, "and then by and by, when I +am making money, you and Captain will come down to the city and we'll +all smoke our pipes together--eh, Captain?" + +The hound leaped up and Tim caught his forepaws and the two went +dancing around the room until a long-drawn howl warned us that such +bipedic capers were not to the dog's liking. + +"Captain isn't going to leave home, Tim," I cried. "You mustn't expect +him to take so active a part in your demonstrations of joy." + +"It wasn't the delight of leaving home made me dance," returned the +boy. "It was the contemplation of the time we'll have when we get +together again." + +"Then why go away at all?" + +"There you are. A minute ago you agreed with me; you were right with +me in my plan to do something in this world. Now you are using your +cunning arguments to dissuade me. But you can't stop me, Mark. I've +accepted the place. Mr. Weston has sent word that I am coming, and +there you are. I must keep to my bargain." + +"When did Weston arrange all this for you?" + +"This morning. We were on Blue Gum Ridge hunting squirrels, and we got +to talking over one thing and another. I guess I kind of opened +up--for he's a clever man, Mark. Why, he pumped me dry. We hadn't sat +there on a log very long till he knew the whole family history and +about everything I had ever learned or thought of. He asked me if I +intended to spend all my life here, and I said it looked that way, and +then I told him how I wanted to go and do something and be somebody." + +[Illustration: "He pumped me dry."] + +Tim stopped suddenly, and winked at Captain. "I told him I wanted to +go away and see something as you had done, for I was weary of listening +to your accounts of things you'd seen. It's awful to have to listen to +another's travels. It must be fine to tell about your own." + +"Well, is it my talking that's driving you away, or is it Weston's +alluring offers?" + +"Alluring?" Tim laughed. "I'll say for Weston, he is frank. He told +me that to his mind business was worse than death. He was born to it. +His father left it to him and he has to keep it going to live; but he +lets his partner look after it mostly, and he is always worrying lest +his partner should die and leave him with the whole thing on his hands. +He told me I'd have to drudge in a dark office over books for ten hours +a day, and that it would be years before I began to see any rewards. +By that time I would probably decide that the old-fashioned scheme of +having kings born to order was more sensible than making men wear their +lives out trying to become rulers. A cow was contented, he said, +because it was satisfied to stand under a tree and breathe the free +air, and look up into the blue skies and over the green fields, and +chew the cud. As long as the cow was satisfied with one cud it would +be contented; but once the idea got abroad in the pasture that two cuds +were required for a respectable cow, peace and happiness were gone +forever." + +"Our lanky stranger seems a wise man," said I. "In the face of all +that, what did you say?" + +"I told him I wasn't a cow," Tim answered. + +There was no controverting such a reply, and though my sympathies were +with the pessimistic Weston, I dared not raise my voice in defence of +his logic as against this young brother. Tim seemed to think that the +fact that he was not a cow turned from him all the force of Weston's +philosophy, and insisted on going blindly on in search of another cud. + +"He laughed when I said that," Tim continued, "and he said he guessed +there was no sense in using figures of speech to me, but he was willing +to bet that some time I would come to his way of thinking. I told him +that perhaps I would when I had seen as much of men and things as he +had; but now I looked about me with the mind and the eye of a yokel. +That was just what I wanted to escape. He was himself talking to me +from a vantage-point of superior knowledge, and the consciousness of my +own inferiority was one of the main things to spur me on." + +"At that he gave you up?" said I. + +"He gave me up," Tim answered; "and after all, Mark, old Weston is a +fine fellow. He said that there was just one thing for me to do, and +that was to see and learn for myself. So he wrote to his partner +to-day, and I go in the morning." + +"But must you go on a day's notice?" + +"The quicker the better, Mark; and you see I haven't been letting any +grass grow under my feet. When Weston and I reached our conclusion, I +went to the store and got the trunk. In the interval of packing, I've +gone over to Pulsifer's and arranged for Tip to work regularly for you +this winter, looking after the farm. He wanted to go up to Snyder +County and dig for gold. He knows where there's gold in Snyder County +and you may have trouble there; but when you see any signs of a break +you are to tell Mrs. Tip. She says she'll head him off all right. +Nanny Pulsifer, by the way, will come every day and straighten up the +house. I saw Mrs. Bolum, and she said she would keep an eye on Nanny +Pulsifer, for Nanny is likely to get one of her religious spells and +quit work. When you hear her singing hymns around the house, you are +to tell Mrs. Bolum." + +[Illustration: "Nanny is likely to get one of her religious spells and +quit work."] + +"Who will look after Mrs. Bolum? To whom must I appeal when I see +signs there?" + +"When Mrs. Bolum fails you, Mark, write to me," Tim answered. "When +you see signs of her neglecting you, drop me a line and I'll be home in +three days." + +"I may have to appeal to you to save me from my friends," I said, "if +Tip Pulsifer goes digging gold and Nanny Pulsifer gets religion and old +Mrs. Bolum belies her nature and forgets me. But anyway, if Captain +and I sit here at night knee-deep in dust and cobwebs, at least we can +swell our chests and talk about our brother in the city, who is +making--how much?" + +"Seven dollars a week!" cried Tim. "Think of it, Mark, seven dollars a +week. That's more than you made as a soldier." + + * * * * * * + +"We are near the last bend, Tim. Yes--I'll say good-by to Mary for +you. I'll tell her that in the hurry you forgot her. And she will +believe me! Why didn't you go up the hill last night, instead of +sneaking off this way?--for you know you didn't forget her. That last +smoke--that's right--you and Captain and I, and our pipes. I fear she +did pass from our minds, but we had many things to talk over in those +last hours. I promise you I will go up to-night and explain. Tell +Weston about that fox on Gander Knob--of course I shall. School starts +tomorrow, else I'd be after him myself; but on Saturday we'll hie to +the mountain, Weston and Captain and I. You, Tim, shall have the skin, +a memento of the valley. I'll say good-by to Captain again, and I'll +keep the guns oiled, and Piney Carter shall have the rifle whenever he +wants it--provided he cleans it every hunting night. And I'll tell old +Mrs. Bolum--but the train is going to start. Are you sure you have +your ticket, and your check, and your lunch? Yes, I'll say good-by to +Mary for you.--Good-by, Tim!" + +And Tim went around the bend. + + + + +VIII + +Books! Books! Eternal, infernal books! The sun was printing over the +floor the shadow skeleton of the juniper-tree by the westerly window. +That always told me it was one o'clock. And one o'clock meant books +again--three long hours of wrangling with dull wits, of fencing with +sharper ones; three long hours of a-b-abs, of two-times-twos and +three-times-threes; hours of spelling and of parsing, hours of bounding +and describing. With it all, woven through it, now swelling, now dying +away, now broken by a shrill cry of pain or anger, was the ceaseless +buzzing of the school. There was no rest for the eye, even. The walls +were white, their glare was baneful, and through the chalk-dust mist the +rustling field of young heads suggested anything but peace and repose to +one of my calling. That was the field I worked in. + +I had been with Tim. His letter from New York was in my hands, and over +and over I had read it, until I knew every twist in the writing. In the +reading I had been carried away from myself, and seemed to be beside him +in his battle in the world, laying about with him right lustily. Then by +force of habit I had looked up and had seen the shadow of the +juniper-tree. I was back in my prison. And it was books! + +[Illustration: I was back in my prison.] + +"Brace up there, Daniel Arker, and quit your blubbering!" I cried. + +Daniel was a snuffler. Whenever I had a companion in the schoolhouse at +the noon recess, it was generally this lad, and when he was there he was +nursing a wound and snuffling. If there was any trouble to be got into, +if there was a flying ball to come in contact with, ice to break through +or a limb to snap, Daniel never failed to be on hand. Then he would +burst rudely into my solitude and while I sopped cold water over his +injured members, he would blubber. When I turned from him to my own +corner by the window, the blubber would die away into a snuffle, and +there he would sit, his head buried in his hands, snuffling and snuffling +until books. + +Now I spoke sharply to the boy. He raised his head and fixed one red eye +on me, for the other was hidden by his hand. + +"I guesst you was never hit on the eye by a ball, was ye?" he stuttered. + +"I guess I have been," was my reply. "I was a good round-town player, +and you never saw me crying like that, either." + +"I was playin' sock-ball," snuffled the boy, and a solitary tear rolled +down his snub nose. He flicked it away with his right hand, and this act +disclosed to me a great bluish swelling, from under which a bit of eye +was twinkling mournfully at me. The boy was hurt; my heart went out to +him, for the memory of my own sock-ball and tickley-bender days came back +to me. + +"Come, come," I said more kindly, laying a hand on the black head. +"Brace up, Daniel, for I must call the others in, and you don't want them +to see you crying. Dare to be like the great Daniel, who wasn't even +afraid of the wild beasts." + +"But Dan'el in the Lion's Den never played sock-ball," whimpered the boy, +covering each eye with a chubby fist as he rubbed away the traces of his +tears. + +Beware, Daniel Arker! Form not in my mind such a picture as that of the +mighty prophet in his robes being "it." Over the mantel in our parlor we +have a picture of the lion's den, and it is one of the choicest of our +family treasures. Whence it came, we do not know. Even my mother, +familiar as she was with the minutest detail of our family history as far +back as my grandfather's time, could not tell me that; but we always +believed it to be one of the world's great pictures that by some strange +chance had come into our possession. How well I remember my keen +disappointment on learning that it was not a photograph. It took years +to convince Tim of that, and we consoled ourselves that at least it had +been drawn by one who was there. Else how could he have done it so +accurately? For the likeness of Daniel was splendid. The great prophet +of Babylon must have looked just like that. He must have sat on a +boulder in the middle of the rocky chamber, his eyes fixed on the +ceiling, one hand resting languidly on the head of a mighty lion, a +sandalled foot using another hoary mane as a footstool. There were lions +all around him, and how they loved him! You could see it in their eyes. +Tip Pulsifer once told me that Daniel had them charmed, and that he was +looking so intently at the ceiling because he was repeating over and over +again the mystic words--probably Dutch--that his grandfather had taught +him. One slip--and I should see the fiery flash return to the eyes of +the beasts! One slip--and they would be upon him! To Tip I replied that +this was preposterous, as Babylon lived before there was any Dutch, and +there being no Dutch, how could there be effective charms? Daniel was +saved by a miracle. But Tip is slow-witted. Charms were originally +called miracles, he said. The miracle was the father of the charm. +Folks would say there were no charms to-day, yet they would believe in +charms that were worked a few thousand years ago, only they called them +miracles. It was useless to argue with a thick fellow like Tip. I had +always preferred to think of Daniel stilling the wild beasts by the +grandeur of his soul, and the suggestion that I drag him from his throne, +king of men and king of beasts, and picture him playing sock-ball, doing +a double shuffle with his sandalled feet, tossing his long robe wildly +about, now leaping, now dodging, to avoid the flying sphere--it was too +much. It angered me. + +"You should be ashamed of yourself, Daniel Arker!" I cried. "The idea of +a boy that comes of good church folks like yours talking that way about +one of the prophets! I'll dally with you no more. The boys shall see +you as you are. It's books!" + +I threw the window open and shouted, "Books!" I pounded on the ledge +with my ruler and shouted, "Books!" + +For a minute the boys feigned not to see me, and played the harder, +trying to drown my cries in their yells to the runners on the bases. But +the girls took up my call and came trooping schoolward. The little boys +began to break away, and soon the school resounded with the shuffle of +feet, the clatter of empty dinner pails, and the banging of desk tops. + +"It's books, William; hurry," I cried to the last laggard. + +I knew this boy well. He was the biggest in the school, and to hold his +position among his fellows he had to defy me. As long as I watched him, +he must lag. The louder I called, the deafer he must seem to be. His +post was hemmed around by tradition. It was his by divine right, and it +involved on its holder duties sometimes onerous, often dangerous; but for +him to abate one iota of his privileges would be a reflection on his +predecessors, an injustice to his heirs. It would mean scholastic +revolution. He knew that I must yell at him. My position also was +hemmed about by tradition. To appear not to fear the biggest boy was one +of the chief duties of a successful pedagogue. We understood each other. +So I yelled once more and closed the window. The moment my back was +turned he ran for the door. + +"It is," Daniel Arker was shouting. + +"It ain't," Samuel Carter retorted, sticking out his tongue. + +"Boys, be quiet!" I commanded. + +"He said his eye was swole worse 'an mine oncet," cried Daniel. + +His good eye was blazing, his shoulders were squared back, and his fists +were clenched. There was no sign of a snuffle about him now. Heaven, +but he looked fine! All this time I had wronged Daniel. I had only +known him as he crawled to me broken and bruised after the conflict. I +had never known the odds he had encountered, for when I questioned him he +just snuffled. Now I saw him before the battle, ready to defend his +honor against a lad of more than his years and size, and the wickedest +fighter in the school. I believed that had I let him loose there he +would have whipped. But one in my position is hemmed in by tradition, so +in my private capacity I was patting the boy's head with the same motion +that I used in my public capacity to push him into his seat, while with a +crutch I made a feint at Samuel that sent him scurrying to his place. + +The biggest boy in the school sauntered in. He carefully upset three +dinner pails from the shelves in the rear as he hung up his hat. I +reprimanded him most severely, but I finished my lecture before he had +replaced the cans. Then he shuffled to his place and got out a book as a +sign that school might begin. + +Now, I always liked that biggest boy. He knew his position so well. He +knew just how far it was proper for him to go, and never once did he +overstep those bounds. He held the respect and fear of his juniors +without making any open breach with the teacher. But in one way William +Bellus had been peculiarly favored. His predecessors had to deal with +Perry Thomas, and in spite of his gentle ways and intellectual cast, +Perry is active and wiry. He is a blacksmith by trade, and is the +leading tenor in the Methodist choir. This makes a combination that for +staying powers has few equals. My biggest boy's predecessor had been +utterly broken. Even the girls jeered at him until he quit school +entirely. But William had another problem. It was the disappointment of +his life that Perry Thomas retired just as he came into power. He had +declared at a mass-meeting behind the woodshed that it was a gross +injustice on the part of the directors to put a crippled teacher in +charge of the school. Where now was glory to be gained? They would have +a school-ma'am next, like they done up to Popolomus, and none but little +boys, and girls not yet out of plaits, would be so servile as to suffer +such domination. Mark Hope, the soldier, he honored! Mark Hope, the +veteran, he revered! Mark Hope, the teacher, he despised; for his +crutches made him a safe barricade against which no Biggest Boy with a +spark of honor would dare to hurl himself. There might be in the school +boys base enough to charge that he lacked spirit in his attitude of armed +neutrality. Let those traducers step forward, whether they be two or a +dozen. What would follow, the Biggest Boy did not say; but he had pulled +off his coat, and there was none to dispute him. His position was +established. Thereafter he assumed toward me a calm indifference. He +was never openly offensive. He always kept within certain carefully laid +bounds of supercilious politeness. At first he was exasperating, and I +longed to have him forget himself and overstep those bounds, that I might +make up for his disappointment in being cheated out of Perry Thomas. But +he never did. + +To-day William Bellus really opened the school, for not till he had +buried his face in his book did the general buzz begin. + +That buzz was maddening. For three long hours I had to sit there and +listen to the children as they droned over and over their lessons. Yet +this was my life's work. To my care Six Stars had intrusted her young, +and I should be proud of that trust and earnest in its fulfilment. But +Tim's letter was in my pocket. It was full of the big things of this +life. It told of great struggles for great prizes, and the chalk dust +choked me when I thought of him, and then turned to myself as I stood +there, trying to demonstrate to half a dozen girls and boys that the +total sum of a single column of six figures was twenty-four. Tim had +been promoted and was a full-fledged clerk now. There were many steps +ahead for him, but he was going to climb them rung by rung; and what joy +there is in drawing one's self up by one's own strength! I was at the +top of my ladder--at the very pinnacle of learning in Black Log. Even +now I was unfolding to the marvelling eyes of the children of the valley +the mysteries of that great science, physical geography. I was +explaining to them the trend of the Rockies and the Himalayas, and of +other mountains I should never see; I was telling them why it snowed, and +unfolding the phenomena of the aurora borealis. Alexander with no more +worlds to conquer was a sorry spectacle. We pedagogues who have mastered +physical geography are Alexanders. But if I was bound to the pinnacle of +learning so that I could neither fly nor fall, I could at least watch Tim +as he struggled higher and higher. And Mary was watching with me! That +was what made my work that day seem doubly irksome and the hours trebly +long; for she was waiting to hear from him, and when the sun seemed to +rest on the mill gable I should be free to go to her. So the minutes +dragged. It made me angry. Ordinarily I speak quietly to the scholars, +but now I fairly bellowed at Chester Holmes, who was reading in such a +loud tone that he disturbed me and called me to the real business of the +moment. + +"Don't say Dooglas!" I cried. + +"That's the way Teacher Thomas used to say it," retorted Chester, sitting +down on the long bench where the Fifth Reader class was posted. + +"D-o-u-g--dug--Douglas," I snapped. + +"'Douglas round him drew his cloak.' Now, Ira Snarkle, you may read five +lines, beginning with the second stanza." + +Ira was very tall for his sixteen years. His clothes had never caught up +to him, for his trousers always failed by two inches to grasp his +shoe-tops, and his coat had a terrible struggle to touch the top of his +trousers. For the shortness of the sleeves he partly compensated with a +pair of bright red worsted wristers. When he bent his elbows the sleeves +flew up his arms, and these wristers became the most conspicuous thing in +his whole attire. + +Ira was holding his book in the correct position now, so I saw a length +of bare arms embraced at the wrists by brilliant bands of red. + +"'My manors, halls, and bowers shall still be open at my soveryne's +will,'" chanted the boy. + +He paused, and to illustrate the imperious humor of the Scot, he waved +his fingers and a red wrister at me. The gesture unnerved him for a +moment, and he had to go thumbing over the page to find his place. He +caught it again and chanted on--"'At my sover-sover-yne's will. To each +one whom he lists, however unmeet to be the owner's peer.'" + +Again the boy waved the fingers and the red wrister at me. Again he +paused, gathering himself for the climax. That gesture was abominable, +but at such a time I dared not interrupt. + +"'My castles are my king's alone from turret to foundation stone,'" he +cried. The red wrister flashed beneath my eye. Ira had even forgotten +his book and let it fall to his side. He took a step forward; paused +with one knee bent and the other stiff; extended his right arm and +shouted, "'The hand of Dooglas is his own, and never shall in friendly +grasp the hand of sech as Marmyyon clasp.'" + +[Illustration: "'At my sover-sover-yne's will.'"] + +Well done, Ira! The proud Marmion must indeed have trembled until his +armor rattled if the Scot bellowed at him in that way and shook a red +wrister so violently under his very nose. Excellent, Ira; you put spirit +in your reading. One can almost picture you beneath Tantallion's towers, +drawing your cloak around you and giving cold respect to the stranger +guest. But why say "Dooglas"? + +"S-o-u-p spells soup," answered Ira loftily to my question. "Then +D-o-u-g must spell doog." + +"I tell you it's Douglas. 'The hand of Douglas is his own,'" I cried. +At the mention of the doughty Scot I pounded the floor with my crutch and +repeated "Dug--dug--dug." + +"But Teacher Thomas allus said Doog," exclaimed Chester Holmes. + +"I don't care what Teacher Thomas said," I retorted. "You must say +Dug--Dug--Douglas." + +"But Teacher Thomas is the best speaker they is," piped in Lulu Ann +Nummler from the end of the bench. + +"I don't care if Teacher Thomas can recite better than Demosthenes +himself," I snapped. "In this school we say Douglas." My crutch +emphasized this mandate, but I could not see how it was received, for +every scholar's face was hidden from me by a book. + +"Now, Abraham, six lines." + +Abraham Lincoln Spiker was two years younger than Ira Snarkle, but he +seemed much taller and correspondingly thinner. In our valley the boys +have a fashion of being born long, and getting shorter and fatter as they +grow older. Abraham's mother in making his clothes had provided against +the day when he would weigh two hundred pounds, and consequently his +garments hung all around him, giving him an exceedingly dispirited look. +His hair relieved this somewhat, for it was white and always stood gaily +on end, defying brush and comb. Daniel Arker, a sturdy black-haired lad, +would have done fuller justice to the passage that fell to Abraham, for +the Spiker boy with his gentle lisp never shone in elocution; but our +reading class is a lottery, as we go from scholar to scholar down the +line. The lot falling to him, Abraham pushed himself up from the bench, +grasped his book fiercely with both hands, and fixed his eyes intently on +the ceiling. + +"Go on," I commanded kindly. + +"'Fierth broke he forth,'" lisped the boy. + +"Louder. Put some spirit in it," I cried. "'Fierce broke he forth!'" +And my crutch beat the floor. + +"'Fierth broke he forth, and durtht thou then to bared----" + +"To beard," I corrected. + +"'Bared the lion in hith den--the Doog-dug-lath----'" Abraham stopped +and took a long breath. I just gazed at him. + +"'In hith hall,'" he shouted. "'And h-o-p-hop-e-s-t-hopest thou then +unthscathed to go?'" + +The boy's knees began to bend under him, and he was reaching a long, thin +arm out behind hunting for the bench. He was fleeing. I knew it. I +warned him. + +"No--go on--read on." + +Abraham sighed and drew his sleeve across his mouth from the elbow to the +tips of his fingers. Then he sang: + +"'Noby--Thent Bride--ofBoth--wellno--updraw--bridgegrooms--whatward--erho +--lettheportculluthfall!'" + +Young Spiker collapsed. + +"'Lord Marmion turned; well was his need,'" I cried, "if Douglas ever +addressed him in that fashion." + +"Now watch me, boys," I added. And with as much fire as I could kindle +in so short a time and under conditions so dampening, I thundered the +resounding lines: "'No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no! Up drawbridge, +grooms--what, warder, ho!'" + +"'Let the portcullis fall!'" This last command rang from the back of the +room. Perry Thomas stood there smiling. + +"I couldn't have done it better myself, Mark," he said. "It's a splendid +piece--that Manny-yon--ain't it--grand--noble. I love to say it." + +"Teacher Thomas, Teacher Thomas," came in the shrill voice of Chester +Holmes, "ain't it Dooglas?" + +Perry was at my side, smiling benignly on the school. He really seemed +to love the scholars; but Perry is a pious man, and seeks to follow the +letter of the Scriptures, and the command is to love our enemies. + +"Doogulus--Doogulus," he said. "Of course, boys, it's Doogulus." + +The word seemed to taste good, he rolled it over and over so in his mouth. + +"Teacher Hope says you ain't such a fine speaker after all," cried Lulu +Ann Nummler from the distant end of the bench. + +She is fifteen and should have known better, but the people of our valley +are dreadfully frank sometimes, and this girl spoke in the clear, sharp +voice of truth that cut through one. Perry turned quick as a flash and +eyed me. + +For a moment all I could do was to thump the floor and cry "Order! +Silence! Lulu Ann Nummler, when you want to speak, you must hold up +three fingers." + +The three fingers shot up at once and waved at me, but I pretended not to +see them and turned to my guest. + +"I said, Perry, that you were not quite so great a speaker as +Demosthenes," I stammered. Chester Holmes had three fingers up and Ira +Snarkle was waving both hands, but I went calmly on: "They were telling +me how beautifully you recited, and I was trying to instil into the piece +a little of your spirit. But now that we have you here, I insist on your +showing me and the school just how it is done." + +Perry frowned fiercely on Lulu Ann Nummler, and the three fingers +disappeared. On me he smiled. + +"It's a great pleasure to me to be able to recite," he said. "To be able +to repeat great po-ems at will, is to have a treasure you can allus carry +with you while your voice lasts." All this was to the scholars. "There +are three great arts in this world--singin', hand-paintin', and last but +not least, speakin'. I try my hand at all of them except hand-paintin', +and I wish to impress on all you scholars what a joy it is to oneself and +one's friends to have mastered one of these muses. Singin' and speakin' +are closely allied, startin' from the same source. And hand-painting it +allus seemed to me, is really elocution in oils; for a be-yutiful picture +is a silent talker. What suggestions it brings to us as we look upon a +paintin' of a wreath of flowers, or fruit, or a handsome lady! This art +is lastin'. Speakin' and singin' is over as soon as they is done. So I +have often thought that had I only time I'd hand-paint; but bein' a busy +man I've had to content myself with but two of the muses." + +Perry paused a moment to rub his hands and smile. I did not miss this +opportunity to break in, for I had no intention of listening to a +dissertation on art as well as to a recitation. + +"Now let us have your 'Marmion,'" I said. + +He had forgotten all about "Marmion," and came back to the knight with a +start and a cough. Then he gazed long at the floor. The school buzz +died away, and you could hear the ticking of my little clock. Perry +coughed again and I knew that he was started, so I settled down in my +chair and gazed out of the window. + +"'But Doogulus round him drew his cloak,'" Perry was buttoning the two +top buttons of his Prince Albert as his voice rang out. "'Folded his +arms and thus he spoke.'" + +Annagretta Holmes is only three years old. They send her to school to +keep her warm and out of mischief. She sat on the very front row, right +under Perry's eye. The poor child didn't understand why Teacher Thomas +should stare so at her, and she let out one long, unending bleat. This +gave me a chance to send Lulu Ann Nummler out of the room in charge of +the infant, and I rested easier when Perry drew his Prince Albert around +him once more and spoke. + +A grand figure Perry would have made in Tantallion's towers. I forgot +the school, and the village and the valley, as I sat there looking out of +the window into the sky. I am in those towers when Marmion stops to bid +adieu, but in place of the proud Scottish noble, Perry Thomas stands +confronting the English warrior. What a pair they make--the knight armed +cap-a-pie, at his charger's side, and Perry in that close-fitting, shiny +coat that has seen so many great occasions in the valley. There is a +gracious bigness about the Englishman forgetting the cold respect with +which he has been treated and offering a mailed hand in farewell. But +Perry buttons his Prince Albert, waves his brown derby under the very +vizor of the departing guest, rests easily on his right leg, bends the +left knee slightly, folds his arms and speaks. "Burned Marmion's swarthy +cheek like fire." Little wonder! If Perry Thomas spoke to me like that +I'd cleave his head. But Marmion spares proud Angus. He beards the +Doogulus in his hall. He dashes the rowels in his steed, dodges the +portcullis, and gallops over the draw. And Perry Thomas is left standing +with folded arms, gazing through the chalk-dust haze into the solemn, +wide open eyes of the children of Six Stars. + +[Illustration: Perry Thomas stands confronting the English warrior.] + + + + +IX + +Perry's head was close to mine, over my table. The school was studying +louder than ever, and our voices could not have gone beyond the +platform; but my friend was cautious. The scholars might well have +thought that the whispered conference boded them ill; that the new +teacher and the old teacher were hatching some conspiracy against them. +It must have looked like it. Perry's elbows were on the table, and my +elbows were on the table. My chin rested in my hands, but his hands +were waving beneath my chin as he unfolded to me the plot he had just +discovered against his hopes and his happiness. But the school was +good. The second grammar class had been relieved from a recitation by +this confab, and somehow Perry had a subduing influence. Even the +Biggest Boy opened his desk quietly and never once looked up from his +geography except for a cautious glance out of the corner of his left +eye. + +"There was a pile of 'em that high, Mark," said Perry, waving his hands +about a foot above the table. "There was some books of po-ems and +novels and such. He'd sent them all to her in one batch--all new, mind +ye, too--and it pleased her most to death. Well, it made me feel flat, +I tell you--so flat that when she asked me if I didn't think it was +lovely of him, I burst right out and said it was really. What I should +'a' done was kind of pass it off as if it didn't amount to much." + +"Who is the young woman?" I asked. + +"I ain't mentionin' names," Perry replied, "and I ain't givin' the name +of the other man; but I have an idee you could guess if you kep' at it." + +Our valley does not bloom with beautiful young women. We always have a +few, but those few can be counted on one's fingers. Our valley does +not number among its men many who can supplement their sentimental +attentions with gifts of books. I knew of one. So it did not require +much guessing on my part to divine the cause of Perry's heart-sickness; +but as long as the other persons in his drama were anonymities, he +would speak freely, so I relieved him by declaring solemnly that never +in the world could I guess. I had always supposed him a lover of all +women, a slave of none. + +Perry smiled. + +"I have kep' a good deal of company," he said. "On account of my +fiddlin', and singin', and recitin' I've always had things pretty much +my own way. It's opposition that's ruination. That's what shatters a +man's heart and takes all his sperrit. As long as the game's between +just a man and a girl there's nothin' very serious. One or the other +loses, and you can begin a new game somewheres else. But when two men +and one girl get a playin' three handed, then it is serious; then it's +desperate. A man has to th'ow his whole heart and mind into it, if +he'd whip, and he gets so worked up he thinks his whole happiness to +the end of time depends on his drivin' the other fellow to drownin' +himself in the mill-dam." + +"In other words, if you had not found another laying piles of books and +such gifts at the feet of this fair one, whose name I can never guess, +you would have fiddled to her and sung to her and recited to her until +she said 'I love you.' Then you would have sought new heavens to +conquer." + +"That's about it," said Perry, smiling feebly. His face brightened. +"You know how it is yourself, Mark. Mind how you kep' company once +with Emily Holmes and nothin' come of it. She went off to normal +school in desperation--you mind that, don't ye?--and she married a +school-teacher from Snyder County--you mind that, don't ye? Now +supposin' you and that Snyder County chap had been opposin' one another +instead of you and Emily Holmes--I allow her name would have been +changed to Emily Hope long ago, or you'd 'a' drownded yourself." + +"But I never had any intention of marrying Emily Holmes," I protested. + +"I know you didn't," Perry replied, thumping the table in triumph. +"That's just the pint. If the world was popilated by one man and one +woman, they'd be a bachelor and an old maid. If there was two men and +one woman, then one of the men would marry the old maid sure." + +"Your meaning is more clear," I said. + +Though Perry did not know it, I was meeting the same opposition that so +aroused his ire. In part there was truth in what he said, for while +opposition does not increase one's love, it surely quickens it. I +doubt if I should have been making a journey nightly up the hill if I +had not expected to find Weston there. Of Perry I had no fear, and it +was not egotism in me to be indifferent to him. He lives so far down +the valley. It's a long walk from Buzzards Glory to Six Stars, and the +road has many chuck-holes. Perry is our man-about-the-valley _par +excellence_, but he is discreet, so it had chanced we met but once at +Warden's, and that was on the night when we heard the story of Flora +Martin and the famine in India. He knew me still as a friend, and not +regarding him as a rival, I treated him as a companion in arms. To be +sure, I could not see where he could be of much assistance; but we had +a common aim and a common foe. That made a bond between us. With that +common foe disposed of, the bond might snap. Till then I was Perry's +friend. + +"I agree with you partly," I said. "Still, it seems to me a man should +love a woman for herself--wholly, entirely for herself, and not because +some other fellow has set his heart on her." + +"You are right there, in part," Perry answered. "I have set my heart +on a particular young lady, but the fact that another--a lean, +cadaverous fellow with red whiskers and no particular looks or +brains--is slowly pushing himself between us makes it worse. It +aggravates me; it affects my appetite." Perry smiled grimly. "It +drives away sleep. You know how it 'ud have been if that Snyder County +teacher had been livin' in Six Stars when you was keepin' company with +Emily Holmes." + +"I don't know how it would have been at all," I retorted hotly. + +"Well, s'posin' when you'd walked four miles to set up with her, and +thought you had her all to yourself, s'pose this Snyder County teacher +with red whiskers, and little twinklin' eyes, and new clothes, come +strollin' in, and stretched out in a chair like he owned her, and begin +tellin' about all the countries he'd seen--about England and Rome, Injy +and Africa--and she leaned for'a'd and looked up into his eyes and just +listened to him talk, drank it all in like--s'pose all that, and then +s'pose----" + +"I'll suppose anything you like," said I, "except that I am in love +with Emily Holmes and that the Snyder County teacher is cutting me out. +For example, let us put me in your place. I am enamored of this fair +unknown--of course I can't guess her name--and this second man, also +unknown--he of the red whiskers, is my rival. Let us suppose it that +way." + +"If you insist," Perry replied. "Well then, you are settin' up with +her. You've invited her to be your lady at the next spellin' bee +between Six Stars and Turkey Walley, and she has said she'll think +about it. Then you've told her that there is something wrong with you. +You don't know what it is, 'ceptin' you feel all peekit like for no +special reason; you can't eat no more, and sleep poorly and has sighin' +spells. Then she kind of peeks at you outen the corner of her eye and +smiles. S'posin' just then in comes this man and bows most polite, and +tells you he is so delighted to see you, and makes her move from the +settee where you are, to a rocker close to him; and leans over her and +asks about the health of all the family as if they was his nearest and +dearest; inquires about her dog; tells her she looks just like the +portrates of his great-grandma. S'posin' she just kind of looks at the +floor quiet-like or else up to him--you'll begin to think you ain't +there at all, won't you? Then you'll concide that you are there but +you oughtn't to be, and kind of slide out without your hat and forget +your fiddle. I tell you, Mark, it's then love becomes a consumin' +fire." + +[Illustration: "You'll begin to think you ain't there at all."] + +Perry looked at me appealingly. Men hesitate to speak of love--except +to women. He had already shown a frankness that was surprising, but +then with a certain deftness he had placed me in the position of the +sentimental one with a problem to solve. He was seeking for himself a +solution of that problem, and was appealing to me to help him. + +"Suppose again," said I, "that going another day to see the girl, I +found her poring over a pile of books--all new books--just given her by +this same arrogant interloper." Perry was silent, but when I paused +and looked at him, I saw in his face that I was arguing along the right +line. "Then the question arises, what shall I do?" + +Perry nodded. + +"What would you do?" he said. "That's it exact." + +"I'd meet him at his own game," I answered. + +"With what?" he asked. + +"With what?" I repeated. + +There was the rub! With what? I sat with my head clasped between my +hands trying to answer him. + +"With what?" I repeated, after a long silence. + +"S'posin' I got her a wreath." Perry offered the suggestion, and in +his enthusiasm he forgot that in our premise I was the person +concerned; but I was not loath to let him take on himself the burden of +our perplexity. + +"Is she dead?" I asked. + +"I needn't get one of that kind," he solemnly replied. "Somethin' in +autumn leaves ought to be nice." + +"You might do better." + +"A hand-paintin', then," he ventured timidly. + +I smiled on this with more approval. + +"They have some be-yutiful ones at Hopedale," he said with more heart. +"The last time I was down I was lookin' at 'em. They've fine gold +frames and----" + +"Why send her a picture of a tree when the finest oak in the valley is +at her door?" I protested. "Why send her a picture of a slate-colored +cow when a herd of Durhams pastures every day right under her eye?" + +"That's true," Perry answered. "Hand-paintin's is meant for city +folks. But what can a fellow get? A statue!" His eyes brightened. +"That's just the thing--a statue of Washington or Lincoln or General +Grant--how's that for an idee, Mark?" + +"Excellent, if you are trying to make an impression on her uncle," I +answered. + +Perry shook his hands despairingly. + +"You have come to a poor person at such business, Perry," said I. +"What little I know of courting I have from books, and it seems to me +that the usual thing is flowers--violets--roses." + +My friend straightened up in his chair and gazed at me very long and +hard. From me his eyes wandered to the calendar that hung behind my +desk. + +"November--November," he muttered. "A touch of snow too--and violets +and roses." + +He leaned toward me fiercely. "Violets come in May," he said. "This +here is a matter of weeks." + +"I'm serious, Perry," said I. "Books are the thing, and flowers; not +wreaths and statues and paintings. You must send something that +carries some sentiment with it." + +He saw that I was in earnest, and his countenance became brighter. + +"Geraniums," he muttered; thumping the table. "I'll get Mrs. Arker to +let me have one of them window-plants of hers, and I'll put it in a new +tomato-can and paint it. How's that for a starter?" + +"I've never read about men sending geraniums," I replied. "It's odd, +but I never have. I suppose the can makes them seem a little +unwieldly. Still----" + +"I had thought of forty-graph album." Perry spoke timidly again. + +I had no mind to let him venture any more suggestions. His was too +fickle a fancy, and I had settled on an easy solution of the problem. +He was to send her a geranium. Somehow, I knew deep down in my own +heart, ill versed as I was in such things, that I should never send her +such a gift myself. I would climb to the top of Gander Knob for a wild +rose or rhododendron; I would stir the leaves from the gap to the river +in search of a simple spray of arbutus for her. But step before her +with my arms clasping a tin can with a geranium plant r Heaven forbid! +Perry was different. The suggestion pleased him. He was rubbing his +hands and smiling in great contentment. + +"I might send a po-em with it," he said. "I've allus found that poetry +kind of catches ahold of a girl when you are away. It keeps you in her +mind. It must be sing-song, though, kind of gettin' into her head like +quinine. It must keep time with the splashin' of the churn and the +howlin' of the wind. I mind when I was keepin' company with Rhoda +Spiker--she afterward married Ulysses G. Harmon, of Hopedale--I sent +her a po-em that run somethin' like this: 'I live, I love, my Life, my +Light; long love I thou, Sweetheart so bright'----" + +Perry's po-em never got into my brain, for as he repeated the +captivating lines, I was gazing over his shoulder, out of the window, +down the road to the village. I saw a girl on the store porch, +standing by the door a moment as if undecided which way to go. Then +she turned her head into the November gale and came rapidly up the +road. In a minute more she would be passing the school-house door. +Tim's letter was in my pocket and the sun was still high over the gable +of the mill. + +[Illustration: I saw a girl on the store porch.] + +"Rhoda sent me a postal asking me to write her a po-em full of Ks or Xs +or Ws, just so as she could get the Ls out of her head, and----" + +"Perry!" I broke right into his story and seized the lapel of his +waistcoat as though he were my dearest friend. "My girl is going by +the school-house door this very minute. Now you help me. Take the +school for the rest of the afternoon." + +"Your girl?" cried Perry. His voice broke from the smothered +conference tone and the school heard it and tittered. He recovered +himself and poked me in the chest. + +"Oh!" he said, "Widow Spoonholler--I seen you last Sunday singin' often +the same book--I seen you. Hurry, Mark, hurry; and luck to you! +You've done me most a mighty good turn." + + + + +X + +Mary sat knitting. Beware of a woman who knits. The keenest lawyer in +our county is not so clever a cross-examiner as his sister when she +sits with her needles and yarn. Questions directed at one can be +parried. You expect them and dodge. The woman knits and knits, and +lulls you half to sleep, and then in a far-away voice asks questions. +They come as a boon, a gracious acknowledgment that you exist, and +though in her mind your place is secondary to the flying needles and +the tangled worsted, still you are there and she is half listening to +what you have to say. So you tell her twice as much as is wise. You +have no interest for her. Her eyes are fixed on her work. She asks +you the secret of your life, and then bends farther over, seeming to +forget your existence. Desperate, you shout it at her, and she looks +up and smiles, a wondering, distraught smile; then goes on knitting. + +There were some things in Tim's letter that I did not intend to tell +Mary. He had written to me in confidence. A man does not mind letting +one of his fellows know that he is in love with a woman, but to let a +woman know it is different. She will think him a fool, unless she is +his inspiration. I knew Tim. I knew that he was no fool, and I did +not wish her to get such an impression. I loved a pretty woman. So +did Tim. But Mary would not understand it in Tim's case. That was why +I folded the letter when I had read the first four pages. + +But Mary was knitting. "It is fine to think he is getting along so +well," she said. + +She looked up, but not at me. Her face was turned to the window; her +eyes were over the valley which was growing gray, for the sun was down. +What she saw there I could not tell. A drearier sight is hard to find +than our valley when the chill of the November evening is creeping over +it as the fire in the west goes out. Night covers it, and it sleeps. +But the winter twilight raises up its shadows. In the darkness all is +hidden. In the half-light there is utter loneliness. + +I turned from the window to the letter, and Mary looked at me for the +first time in many minutes. + +"Are you going to read the rest of the letter?" she demanded. + +"You have heard 'most all of it," I replied evasively. + +"And the rest?" she said. + +"Is of no interest," I answered. "It's just a few personal, +confidential things. Perhaps some time I can tell you." + +"Oh," she exclaimed carelessly, and went on knitting, drawing closer to +the lamplight. + +"How long is it since he left?" she asked at last, reaching down to +untangle the worsted from the end of the rocker. + +"Six weeks," said I. "It's just six weeks coming to-morrow since Tim +and I parted at Pleasantville. To think he has been promoted already! +At that rate he should be head of the firm in a year or two." + +"Mr. Weston has been very kind," said she. "Of course he has seen that +Tim had every chance. He is the most thoughtful man I ever knew. +He----" + +Weston's excellent qualities were well known to me. I had discovered +them long ago, and I did not care to hear Mary descant on them at +length. He had done much for Tim, but it was what Tim had done for +himself that I was proud of, so I interrupted her rather rudely. + +"Yes, he got Tim his place; but you must remember Mr. Weston has hardly +been in New York a day since the boy left. He doesn't bother much +about business, so, after all, Tim is working his way alone." + +"Yes," said Mary. She had missed a stitch somewhere, and it irritated +her greatly. That was evident by the way she picked at it. She +remedied the trouble somehow, recovered her composure, and went on +knitting. + +"Is it eight dollars he is making, did you say?" she asked. + +"Yes, eight," I replied, verifying the figure with a glance at the +letter. + +"A week or a month?" + +"A week. Just think of it--that is more than I got in the army." + +But Mary was not a bit impressed. I remembered that she came from +Kansas, and in Kansas a dollar is not so big as in our valley. + +"Living is so expensive in the city," she said absently. "With eight +dollars a week here Tim would be a millionaire. But in New York--" A +shrug of the shoulder expressed her meaning. + +"True," said I, a bit ruefully. + +I had expected her to clasp her hands, to look up at me and listen to +my stories of Tim's success, and hear my dreams for his future. +Instead, she went on knitting, never once raising her eyes to me. It +exasperated me. In sheer chagrin I took to silence and smoking. But +she would not let me rest long this way, though I was slowly lulling +myself into a state of semi-coma, of indifference to her and calm +disdain. + +"Of course Tim has made some friends," she said, glancing up from her +work very casually. + +"Of course he has," I snapped. + +"That's nice," she murmured--knitting, knitting, knitting. + +I expected her to ask who his friends were, and how he had made them. +That was all in the letter. Moreover, it was in the part I had not +read to her. But she abruptly abandoned this line of inquiry. She did +not care. She let me smoke on. + +Suddenly she dropped her work and asked, "Is that a footstep on the +porch?" + +"Footsteps! No--why, who did you think was coming?" I said. + +"Mr. Weston promised to drop in on his way home from hunting--but I +guess he'll disappoint me. I hoped it was he." She fell to her task +again, only now she began to hum softly, thus shutting me off entirely. + +For a very long while I endured it, but the time came when action of +some kind was called for. We were not married, that I could sit +forever smoking while she hummed. Even in Black Log, etiquette +requires that a man talk to a woman when in her company; and when the +woman ceases to listen, the wise man departs. That was just what I did +not want to do, and only one alternative was left me. I got out the +letter and held it under the light. + +"You were asking about Tim's friends, Mary," said I. + +"Was I?" she returned. "I had forgotten. What did I say?" + +"You asked if he had made any friends," I replied, as calmly as I +could. "I was going to read you what he said." + +"Oh!" she cried. And at last she dropped her knitting, and resting her +elbows on her knees, clasping her chin in her hands, she looked up at +me from her low chair. "I thought it was forbidden," she said. + +"Tim didn't say anything about not reading it," I answered. "At first, +though, it seemed best not to; but you'll understand, Mary. Of course, +we mustn't take him too seriously, but it does sound foolish. Poor +Tim!" + +"Poor Tim!" repeated the girl. "He must be in love." + +"He is," said I. + +"Then don't read it!" she cried. "Surely he never intended you to read +it to me." + +"Of course he did," I laughed, for at last I had aroused her, and now +her infernal knitting was forgotten; she no longer strained her ears +for Weston's footfalls. Her eyes were fixed on me. "Poor old Tim! +Well, let's wish him luck, Mary. Now listen." + +So I read her the forbidden pages. + +"'You should see Edith Parker, Mark. She is so different from the +girls of Black Log. Her father is head book-keeper in the store, and +he has been very good to me. Last week he took me home to dinner with +him. He has a nice house in Brooklyn. His wife is dead, and he has +just his daughter. We have no women in Black Log that compare to her. +She is tall and slender and has fair hair and blue eyes.'" + +"I hate fair-haired women," broke in Mary with some asperity. "They +are so vain." + +"I agree with you," said I. "That is invariably the case, and dark +hair is so much more beautiful; but we must make allowance for Tim. +Let us see--'fair hair and blue eyes and the sweetest face'--I do +believe that brother of mine is out of his head to write such stuff." + +"He certainly is," said Mary, very quietly. + +"Poor Tim! But go on." + +"'We played cards together for a while, till old Mr. Parker went asleep +in his chair, and then Edith and I had a chance to talk. You know, +Mark, I've always been a bit afraid of women, and awkward and ill at +ease around them. But Edith is different from the girls of Black Log. +We were friends in a minute. You don't know what it is to talk to +these girls who have been everywhere, and seen everything, and know +everything. They are so much above you, they inspire you. For a girl +like that no sacrifice a man can make is too great. To win a girl like +that a man must do something and be something. Now up in Black +Log----'" + +"Yes, up in Black Log the women are different," said Mary in a quiet +voice. "They have to work in Black Log, and it's the men they work +for. If they sat on thrones and talked wisdom and looked beautiful, +the kitchen-fires would die out and the children go naked." + +"Tim doesn't say anything disparaging to the people of our valley," I +protested. "He says, 'in Black Log the girls don't understand how to +dress. They deck themselves out in gaudy finery. Now Edith wears the +simplest things. You never notice her gown. You only see her figure +and her face.'" + +"Do I deck myself out in gaudy finery, Mark?" Mary's appeal was direct +and simple. + +A shake of the head was my only answer. I wanted to tell her that Tim +was blind. I wanted to tell her the boy was a fool; that Edith, the +tall, thin, pale creature, was not to be compared to one woman in our +valley; that I know who that woman was; that I loved her. I would have +told her this. With a sudden impulse I leaned toward her. As suddenly +I fell back. My crutches had clattered to the floor! + +A battered veteran! A pensioner! A back-woods pedagogue! That I was. +That I must be to the end. My place was in the school-house. My place +was on the store bench, set away there with a lot of other broken +antiquities. That I should ask a woman to link her life with mine, was +absurd. A fair ship on a fair sea soon parts company with a +derelict--unless it tows it. A score of times I had fought this out, +and as often I had found but one course and had set myself to follow +it, but there was that in Mary's quiet eyes that shook my resolution. +There was an appeal there, and trust. + +"I am glad, anyway, I am not so much above you, Mark," she said, now +laughing. + +I gathered up my crutches and the letter. I gathered up my wits again. + +"There's where I feel like Tim, indeed," I said. + +"I don't think I should like this lofty Edith," the girl exclaimed. +"What a pompous word it is--Edith! Tim is ambitious. I suppose he +rolls that name over and over in his mind." + +It seemed that Mary was unnecessarily sharp toward a young woman she +had never seen and of whom she had as yet heard nothing but good. +While for myself I felt a certain resentment at Tim for his praise of +this girl and the condescending references to my misfortune in never +having seen her like, I had for him a certain keen sympathy and hope +for his success. I had a certain sympathy for Edith, too, for a man in +love, if unrestrained in his praise, will make a plain, sensible, +motherly girl look like a frivolous fool. Perhaps in this case Edith +was the victim. I suggested this to Mary, and she laughed softly. + +"Perhaps so," she said. "But I must admit it irritates me to see our +Tim lose his head over a stranger. I can only picture her as he +does--a superior being, who lives in Brooklyn, whose name is Edith, and +who wears her hair in a small knot on top of her head. Can you +conceive her smile, Mark, if she saw us now--if this fine Brooklyn girl +with her city ways dropped down here in Black Log?" + +"That's all in Tim's letter," I cried. "Listen. 'She asked all about +my home and you. I told her of the place and of all the people, of +Mary and Captain. Last night I took over that picture of you in your +uniform, and I won't tell you all the nice things she said about you, +and----'" + +"She's a flatterer," cried Mary. + +"I am beginning to love her myself," said I. "But listen to Tim. 'She +told me she hoped to see Black Log some day, and to meet the soldier of +the valley. I said that I hoped she would, too, but I didn't tell her +that a hundred times a day, as I worked over the books in the office, I +vowed that soon I'd take her there myself.'" + +"As Mrs. Tim," Mary added, for I was folding up the letter. + +"As Mrs. Tim, evidently," said I. "Poor old Tim! It's a very bad +case." + +"Poor old Tim!" said Mary. + +She took up her needles and her work, and fell to knitting. + +"I suppose they must be very rich--the Parkers, I mean." This was +offered as a wedge to break the silence, for the needles were going +very rapidly now, and the stitches seemed to call for the closest +watching. + +"Yes," said Mary. + +I lighted my pipe again. + +"What a grand man Tim will be when he comes back home." I suggested +this after a long silence. "He'll look fine in his city clothes, for +somehow those city men do dress differently from us country chaps. Now +just picture Tim in a--in a----" + +Mary was humming softly to herself. + + + + +XI + +The county paper always comes on Thursday. This was Thursday. Elmer +Spiker sat behind the stove, in a secluded corner, the light of the +lamp on the counter falling over his left shoulder on the leading +column of locals. Elmer was reading. There was a store rule +forbidding him to read aloud, which caused him much hardship, for as he +worked his way slowly down the column, his right eye and left ear kept +twitching and twitching as though trying to keep time with his lips. + +Josiah Nummler's long pole rested on the counter at his side, and his +great red hands were spread out to drink in the heat from the glowing +bowl of the stove. + +"It's a-blowin' up most a-mighty, ain't it?" he said, cheerfully. "Any +news, Elmer?" + +"Oh now, go home," grunted Mr. Spiker, rolling his pipe around so the +burning tobacco scattered over his knees. "See what you've done!" he +snapped angrily, brushing away the sparks. + +"I didn't notice you was in the middle of a word, Elmer, really I +didn't," pleaded old Mr. Nummler. + +"I wasn't in the middle of a word," retorted Elmer, as he drove his +little finger into his pipe in an effort to save some of the tobacco. +"I was just beginnin' a new piece. Things is gittin' so there ain't a +place left in this town for a man to read in peace and comfort. Here I +am, tryin' to post up on the local doin's, on polytics and religion, +and ringin' in my ears all the time is 'lickin' the teacher, lickin' +the teacher, lickin' the teacher.' S'pose every man here did lick the +teacher in his time--what of it, I says, what of it?" + +"Yes, what of it?" said I, closing the door with a bang. + +I was plodding home from Mary's. She had hummed me out at last, and I +had tucked Tim's letter in my pocket and hobbled back to the village. +The light in the store had drawn me aside and I stopped a moment just +to look in. The store is always a fascinating place. There is always +something doing there, and I opened the door a crack to hear what was +under discussion. Catching the same refrain that troubled Elmer +Spiker, I entered. + +"What of it?" I demanded, facing the company. "I don't believe there +is a man here who ever thrashed the teacher." + +Theophilus Jones raised himself from the counter on which he was +leaning, and waved a lighted candle above his head. + +"Here comes the teacher--make way for the teacher!" + +Josiah Nummler pounded the floor with his long pole. + +"See the conquerin' hero comes," he cried. "A place for him--a place +for him!" And with the point of his stick he drove the six men on the +bench so close together as to give me an excellent seat. + +"Thrice welcome, noble he-ro, as Perry Thomas says!" shouted Aaron +Kallaberger, thrusting his hand into his bosom in excellent imitation +of the orator. + +"He's lookin' pretty spry yet, ain't he, boys?" said Isaac Bolum. He +stood before me, leaning over till his hands clasped his knees, and +peered into my face, smiling. "The teacher ain't changed a bit." + +"Thank you for the reception," said I. "But explain. What's this all +about?" + +Elmer Spiker folded the county paper and came around to our side of the +stove. There he struck his favorite attitude, which was always made +most effective by the endless operation of putting his spectacles in +their case--pulling them out--waving them--_ad infinitum_. For in our +valley spectacles are the sceptre of the sovereign intellect. + +"They was talkin' about lickin' the teacher," Elmer said, "and sech +talkin' I never heard. It was the nonsensicalest yet. The way them +boys was tellin' about the teachers they had knowed made me feel for +your life when I seen you come in. I thought they'd fall on you like +so many wolves." + +"Now see here, Elmer Spiker," shouted Henry Holmes, "that's an +injestice. I never said I'd licked the teacher when I was a boy. I +only said I'd tried it." + +"You give me to understand that the teacher was dead now," returned +Elmer severely. + +"He is," cried Henry. + +"And you claim you done it." + +"I done it," shouted Mr. Holmes, pounding the floor with his cane. "I +done it! You think I'm a murderer? Why, old Gilbert Spoonholler was +ninety-seven year old when he went away. He was only forty when him +and me had it out." + +"That's different," said Elmer calmly. "I understood from your +original account that he died in battle." + +"I tho't so too, Henery," put in Isaac Bolum. "You misled me, +complete. 'Here,' says I, 'at last I have met a man who has licked the +teacher.' And all the time you was tellin' about it, we was admirin' +you--Joe Nummler and me--and now we finds Gil Spoonholler lived +fifty-seven year after that terrible struggle." + +"I can't just fetch my memory back to that particular incident, +Henery," said Josiah, "but my recollection is that Gil Spoonholler held +the school-house agin all comers, and that's sayin' a good deal, for we +was tough as hickory when we was young." + +"The modern boys is soft," Aaron Kallaberger declared. "They regards +the teacher in a friendlier light than they used to. They are +weakenin'. The military sperrit's dyin' out. The spectacle is +conquerin' the sword." + +[Illustration: Aaron Kallaberger.] + +This was too direct a slap at Elmer Spiker to pass unnoticed; Elmer was +too old an arguer to use any ponderous weapon in return. He even +smiled as he punctuated his sentences with his battered spectacle-case. + +"You never said a truer word, Aaron. It allus was true. It allus will +be true. It's just as true to-day as when Henery Holmes tackled old +Gilbert Spoonholler, as when Isaac Bolum yander argyed with Luke +Lampson that five times eleven was forty-five; as when you refused to +admit to the same kind teacher that Harrisburg was the capital of +Pennsylwany." + +"And as to-day when William Belkis--" Theophilus Jones was acting +strangely. He was bowing politely at me. + +I was mystified. Why at a time like this I should be treated as a +subject of so much distinction was a puzzle, and I was about to demand +an explanation, when Josiah Nummler interrupted. + +"It's true," he said. "Teachers ain't changed and the boys ain't +changed. I'm eighty year old within a week, and all my life I've heard +boys blowin' about how they was goin' to lick the teacher, and I've +heard old men tell how they done it years and years before--but I've +never seen an eye-witness--what I wants is an eye-witness." + +"You've been talkin' to Elmer Spiker," said Henry Holmes, plaintively. +"He's convinced you. He'd convince anybody of anything. He's got me +so dad-twisted I can't mind no more whether I went to school even." + +"You never showed no signs, Henery." Isaac Bolum spoke very quietly. + +"I guess you otter know it as well as anybody," Henry retorted angrily. +"Your ma was allus askin' me to take care of you, and you was a +nuisance, too, you was, Isaac. You was allus a-blubberin' and +a-swallerin' somethin'. You mind the time you swallered my copper +cent, don't you? You mind the fuss your ma made to my ma about it, +don't you? Why, she formulated regular charges that I 'tempted to +pizon you--she did, and----" + +"Don't rake up them old, old sores," said Josiah Nummler soothingly, +"Ike'll give you back your copper cent, Henery." + +"All Ike's property to-day ain't as val'able to me now as that cent was +then," Mr. Holmes answered solemnly. "It was the val'ablest cent I +ever owned. I never expect to have another I'd hate so to see +palpitatin' in Isaac Bolum's th'oat between his Adam's apple and his +collar-band." + +"We're gittin' away from the subject," said Josiah. "You're draggin' +up a personal quarrel between you and Isaac Bolum, when we was +discussin' the great problem that confronts every scholar in his +day--that of thrashin' the teacher." + +"It's a problem no scholar ever solved in the history of this walley, +anyway," declared Elmer Spiker. + +"It ain't on the records," said Kallaberger. + +"There are le-gends," Isaac Bolum said. He pointed at Henry Holmes +with his thumb. "Sech as his." + +"Yes," said Josiah Nummler, "we have sech le-gends, comin' mostly from +the Indians and Henery Holmes. But there's one I got from my pap when +I was a boy, and I allus thought it one of the most be-yutiful fairy +stories I ever heard--of course exceptin' them in the Bible. It was +about Six Stars school, here, and the boy's name was Ernest, and the +teacher's Leander. It was told to my pap by his pap, so you can see +that as a le-gend it was older than them of Henery Holmes." + +"It certainly sounds more interestin'," exclaimed Isaac Bolum. + +Old Mr. Holmes started to protest, but Aaron Kallaberger quieted him +with an offering of tobacco. By the time his pipe was going, Josiah +was well into his story. + +"Of all the teachers that ever tot in Six Stars this here Leander was +the most fe-rocious. He was six foot two inches tall in his stockin's, +and weighed no more than one hundred and thirty pound, stripped, but he +was wiry. His arms was like long bands of iron. His legs was like +hickory saplin's, and when he wasn't usin' them he allus kept them +wound round the chair, so as to unspring 'em at a moment's notice and +send himself flyin' at the darin' scholar. His face was white and all +hung with hanks of black hair; his eyes was one minute like still +intellectual pools and the next like burnin' coals of fire--that was my +pap's way of puttin' it. Ernest was just his opposite. He was a +chunky boy with white hair and pale eyes. He was a nice boy when let +alone, but in the whole fifteen years of his life he'd never had no +call to bound Kansas or tell the capital of Californy outside of school +hours, so he regarded Leander with a fierce and childlike hatred. But +Ernest had a noble streak in him, too. For himself he would 'a' +suffered in silence. It was the constant oppression of the helpless +little ones that saddened him. It was maddenin' to have to sit silent +every day while tiny girls, no older than ten, was being hounded from +one end of the g'ography to the other. He seen small boys, shavers +under eight, scratchin' holes in their heads with slate-pencils, tryin' +to make out why two and two was four; he seen girls, be-yutiful young +girls of his own age, drove almost to distraction by black-boards full +of diagrams from the grammar-book. And allus before him, the inspirin' +note of the whole systematic system of torturin' the young, was the +rod; broodin' over it all, like a black cloud, was Leander's +repytation, was the memory of the boys as had gone before. For years +Ernest bore all this. Then come a time when he was called to a +position of responsibility in the school. One after another, the +biggest boys had fallen. A few had gradyeated. Others had argyed with +the teacher and become as broken reeds, was stedyin' regular and bein' +polite like. In them years, whether he wanted it or not, Ernest had +rose up. His repytation was spotless. His age entitled him to the +Fifth Reader class, but he was still spellin' out words in the Third; +fractions was only a dream to him, and he couldn't 'a' told you the +difference between a noun and a wild carrot. But through it all he'd +been so humble and polite that Leander looked on him as a kind of +half-witted lamb." + +[Illustration: Leander.] + +"This here is the longest fairy story I ever heard tell of," said Elmer +Spiker, "We haven't even had a sign of the prin-cess." + +"And there is a prin-cess in this here le-gend," returned Josiah. "She +was a be-yutiful one, too. Her name was Pinky Binn, a dotter of the +house of Binn, the Binns of Turkey Walley. She had the reddish hair of +the Binns and the pearl-blue eyes of the Rummelsbergers from over the +mountains. Her ma was a Rummelsberger. She wasn't too spare, nor was +she too fleshy; she was just rounded right; and when she smiled--ah, +boys, when Pinky Binn smiled at Ernest from behind her g'ography his +heart went like its spring had broke. Yet he never showed it. It +would have been ruination for him to let it be known by sign or act +that Pinky Binn was other than the general class of weemen; for is +there anything worse than weemen in general? It's the exceptions, +allus the exceptions, raises trouble with a man. Pinky Binn was +Ernest's exception. But the time of his great trial come, and he was +true. He stepped forth in his right light before all the school; he +showed himself what he was--the gentle lover, the masterful fighter, +the heroic-est scholar Six Stars school had ever seen." + +[Illustration: "Her name was Pinky Binn, a dotter of the house of Binn, +the Binns of Turkey Walley."] + +"He whipped the teacher, I know," cried Henry Holmes. "I told you, +Ike--he licked the teacher." + +"This here is a fairy story, Henery," returned Isaac reprovingly. + +"Even in a fairy story it 'ud be ridiculous to let a boy of fifteen +beat a trained teacher," said Josiah Nummler. "He didn't quite, and it +come this way. Leander asked Pinky Binn if he had eleven apples and +multiplied them by five how many was they left. She says sixty-five. +'Figure it out agin,' he says, wery stern. So she works her fingers +and her lips a-while, like she was deef and dumb. 'Five-timsone is +five,' she says, 'and five-timsone agin is five and one to carry is +six--sixty-five,' she says. 'Well, I'll be Scotch-Irished,' says +Leander gittin' wery angry. 'Sech obtusety' (Leander allus used fancy +words) 'is worthy of Ernest yander.' He pinted his long finger at +Ernest and says, 'How much is five times eleven apples? Ernest gits up +and faces the teacher, wery ca'am and wery quiet. 'Sixty-five,' says +he. 'It's fifty-five,' Leander shouts. Then says Ernest, wery cool, +'Pinky Binn says it's sixty-five, and Pinky Binn ain't no storyteller, +and you hadn't otter call her one.' That takes all the talk out of the +teacher. He just sets there wrappin' his legs round the chair and +glarin'. Ernest's voice rings clear above the school now, like the +Declaration of Independence. 'In Turkey Walley, teacher,' he says, +'five times eleven apples is sixty-five. They raises bigger apples +there.' + +"Leander's legs unsprung. He ketched Ernest by the hair and lifted him +to the platform. Boys, you otter 'a' seen it. It was David and +Goliath all over agin, only fightin' fair. Havin' Leander holdin' his +hair give the boy an advantage--it was two hands agin one. Leander had +but the one to operate his stick with, while Ernest was drivin' both +fists right into the darkness in front of him. The stick was making no +impression, and some of the small boys that didn't know no better begin +to cheer. Boys, you otter 'a' been there. You'd have enjoyed it, +Henery. Leander seen what he needed was tactics, and his regular +tactics was to hold the scholar at arm's length by the hair. He tried +it and it didn't work. Ernest was usin' tactics too. He wasn't +wastin' strength and beatin' his arms around. He just smiled. That +smile aroused the teacher in Leander agin. He couldn't stand it. He +had never had a boy do that before; he forgot himself and sailed in. +Boys, that was fightin' then. You'd have enjoyed it, Henery. Still, I +guess it couldn't have been much to watch, for there was nothin' to see +but dust--a rollin', roarin' cloud of it, backward and forward over the +platform. I don't know just what happened. Pap couldn't tell. +Leander couldn't 'a' told you. Ernest couldn't 'a' told you. There +was war--real war, and after it come peace." + +"Ernest whipped, I know," cried Henry Holmes. + +"The teacher was licked--good--good!" shouted Isaac Bolum. + +"No, boys," said Josiah solemnly, "that couldn't have been. Even in +fairy stories sech things couldn't happen. But when the dust cleared +away, Leander's body lay along the floor, and towerin' over him, one +foot on his boosom, stood the darin' scholar. I guess the teacher had +been took ill." + +"Mebbe it was appleplexy," suggested Elmer Spiker. + +"Mebbe it was," said Josiah. "It must have been somethin' like that; +but whatever it was, there stood the boy. 'You is free,' he says, +addressin' the scholars. And the children broke from the seats and +started for'a'd to worship him. And Pinky Binn was almost on her knees +at his feet, when a strange thing happened. + +"There was music. It come soft first, and hushed the school, and froze +the scholars like statutes. Louder it come and louder--a heavenly +choir--the melodium, the cordine, and the fiddle. Then a great white +light flooded the school-room. It blinded the boys, and it blinded the +girls. The music played softer and softer--the melodium, the cordine, +and the fiddle--and with it, keepin' time with it, the light come +softer, too; so lookin' up the scholars seen there in the celestial +glow, a solemn company gethered round the boy--the he-roes of +old--Hercules and General Grant, Joshuay and Washington--all the mighty +fighters of history. Just one glimpse the scholars had, for the music +struck up louder, and the light glowed brighter and brighter till it +blinded them. Softer and softer the music come--the melodium, the +cordine, and the fiddle. It sounded like marchin', they said, and they +heard the tramp, tramp, tramp of the sperrit soldiers. Then there was +quiet--only the roarin' of the stove and the snuffin' of the little +ones. And when they looked up Leander was alone--settin' there on the +platform, kind of rubbin' his eyes--alone." + +There was silence in the store. Josiah Nummler's pipe was going full +blast, and while the white cloud hid him from the others, I could see a +gentle smile on his fat face. + +"Mighty son's!" cried Henry Holmes, "that there's unpossible." + +Josiah planted his pole on the floor and lifted himself to his feet. + +"It's only a fairy story, Henery," he said. + +"What does it illustrate?" cried Aaron Kallaberger. "Nothin', I says. +We was talkin' about Mark and William Bellus, and you switches off on +Leander and Ernest. To a certain pint your story agrees with what my +boy told me of the doin's in the school this afternoon." + +"What doing's?" I exclaimed. This talk puzzled me, and I was +determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. + +"Why, wasn't you there?" cried Isaac Bolum. "Wasn't it you and +William?" + +"No," I fairly shouted. "Perry Thomas had the school." + +Josiah Nummler's pole clattered to the floor, and he sank into a chair. + +"I see--I see," he gasped. "Poor William!" + +"I see--I see," said I. "Poor William!" + +For William had felt the hand of "Doogulus!" + +[Illustration: William had felt the hand of "Doogulus."] + + + + +XII + +It was young Colonel's first day of life. He had been born six months +before, but for him that had been simply the beginning of existence. +Now he was to live. He was to go with Captain, and with Betsy his +mother, with Arnold Arker's Mike and Major, the best of his breed, to +learn to take the trail and follow it, singing as he ran. + +It was young Colonel's first day of life. He was out in the great dog +world, and about him were the mighty hunters of the valley. Arnold +Arker was there with his father's rifle, once a flint-lock, always a +piece of marvellous accuracy, and a hero as guns go, and the old man +patted the puppy and pulled his silky ears. Tip Pulsifer approved of +him. Tip shut one eye and gazed at him long and earnestly; he ran his +bony fingers down the slender back to the very end of the agitated +tail. One by one he took the heavy paws in his hands and stroked them. +Then Tip smiled. Murphy Kallaberger smiled too, and declared that the +young un took after his pa; clarifying this explanation he pointed his +fat thumb over his shoulder to old Captain, beating around the +underbrush. + +It was young Colonel's first day of life. And what a day to live, I +thought, as I stroked his head and wished him luck! He could not get +it into his puppy brain that I was to wait there while the others went +racing down the slope into the wooded basin below, so he lingered, to +sit before me on his haunches, his head cocked to one side, eyeing me +inquisitively. There was a tang in the air. The wind was sweeping +along the ridge-top and the woods were shivering. All about us rattled +Nature's bones, in the stirring leaves, in the falling pig-nuts, in the +crash of the belated birds through the leafless branches. The sun was +over us, and as I looked up to drink with my eyes of the warm light, I +was taking a draught of God's best wine from off yonder in the north, +of the wine that quickens the blood and drives away the brain-clouds. +A day of days this was to race over the ridges while the music of the +hounds rang through them; a day of days to dash from thicket to +thicket, over the hills and through the hollows, leaping logs and +vaulting fences, with every sense keyed to the highest; for the fox is +a clever general. So young Colonel was puzzled, for there I was on a +log, at the crest of the ridge, with my crutches at one side and my gun +at the other, when I should be away after old Captain, the real leader +of the sport, after Arnold and Tip and Betsy. This was the best I +could do, to sit here and listen and hope--listen as the chase went +swinging along the ridges; hope that a kind fate and an unwise Reynard +would bring them where I could add the bark of my rifle to the song of +the hounds. You can't explain everything to a dog. With a puppy it is +still harder. So Colonel was restless. He looked anxiously down the +hill; then he lifted those soft, slantwise eyes to mine very wistfully. + +"Go, Colonel," I commanded, pointing to the hollow. + +Instead, he came to me and lifted to my knee one of those ponderous +feet of his, and tried to pull me from my log. + +"Aren't you coming?" he seemed to say. + +"No, old chap," I answered, pulling the long ears gently till he +smiled. "I prefer it here where I can look over the valley, and from +here I can see where Mary lives--down yonder on the hillside; that's +the house by the clump of oaks, where the smoke is curling up so thick." + +The slantwise eyes became grave, and the long tail paused. The second +ponderous paw came crashing on my knee. + +"Aren't you coming?" young Colonel seemed to say. + +[Illustration: "Aren't you coming?" young Colonel seemed to say.] + +I was flattering myself that the puppy was choosing my company to the +hunt, for I always value the approval of a dog. Now I found myself +hoping that with a little coddling the young hound would forget the +great doings down in the hollow and would stay with me on the +ridge-top. But I should have known better. There is an end even to a +dog's patience. The place for the strong-limbed is in the thick of the +chase. You can't interest a puppy in scenery when his fellows are +running a fox. + +"Look, Colonel," said I, pointing over the valley, "yonder's where Mary +lives, and I suspect that at this very minute she is looking out of the +window to this very spot, and----" + +The call of a hound floated up from the hollow. Old Captain was on a +trail. With a shrill cry young Colonel answered. This was no time to +loaf with a crippled soldier. With a long-drawn yelp, a childish +imitation of his father's bay, he was off through the bushes. Young +Colonel was living. And I was left alone on my log. + +But this was my first day of life, too. Some twenty-four years before +I had been born, but those years were simply existence. Now I was +living. I had a secret. I had hinted at it to young Colonel. Had he +stayed, I would have told him more, but like a fool he had gone +jabbering off through the bushes, cutting a ludicrous figure, too, I +thought, for his body had not yet grown up to his feet and ears, and he +carried them off a bit clumsily. Had he stayed I might have told him +all, and there never was a bit of news quite so important as that the +foolish puppy missed; never a story so romantic as that he might have +heard; never in the valley's history an event of such interest. He had +scorned it. Now he was with the dog mob down there in the gulch. I +could hear them giving tongue, and I knew they were on an old trail. +Soon they would be in full cry, but I did not care. It was fine to be +in full cry, of course, but from my post on the ridge-top, I could at +least keep in sight of the house by the clump of oaks on the hillside. +Last week I should have moped and fumed here, and cursed my luck in +being bound to a log on a day like this. Now I turned my face to the +sunlight and drank in the keen air. Now I whistled as merry a tune as +I knew. + +"You seem to take well with solitude," came a voice behind me. + +Looking about, I saw Robert Weston fighting his way through the thicket. + +"I take better to company," I said. "Why have you deserted the others?" + +Weston sat down at my side with his gun across his knees. + +"Arnold Arker says there is a fox in that hollow," he answered. "You +can hear the dogs now, and he thinks if they start him, this is as good +a place as any, as he is likely to run over on Buzzard ridge, and +double back this way, or he'll give us a sight of him as he breaks from +the gully. Then as we went away, I looked back and saw you sitting +here and I envied you, for yours is the most comfortable post in all +the ridges." + +"When you could be somewhere else, yes," said I. "Having to sit here, +I should prefer running closer to the dogs." + +"As you have to stay here, I'd rather sit with you, and after all what +could be better?" Weston laughed. "You know, Mark, in all the valley +you are the man I get along with best." + +"Because I've never tried to find out why you were here." + +"For that reason I told you," said he. "How simple it was, too. There +was no cause for mystery." + +"It would still be a mystery to Elmer Spiker, say. He can't conceive a +man living in the country by choice." + +"To Elmer Spiker--indeed, to most of the folks around here, the city is +man's natural environment. It's just bad luck to be country-born." + +"Exactly," said I. + +Weston is a keen fellow. There was a quiet, cynical smile on his face +as he sat there beating a tattoo on his leggings with a hickory twig. + +"Look at your brother," he exclaimed after a while. "I always told Tim +that if he knew what was best he'd stay right here and----" + +"If you told him that now, he would laugh at you," I interrupted. + +Weston looked surprised. + +"Does he like work?" he exclaimed. + +"The boy is in love," I answered. + +Weston dropped the hickory twig, and turning, gazed at me. + +"I knew that," he said. "I knew that long ago." + +"With Edith Parker," I hastened to explain. "You know her?" + +"Oh--oh," he muttered. + +He pulled out a cigar-case and a box of matches and spent a long time +getting a light. + +Then with a glance of inquiry, he said, "Edith Parker?" + +"Why, don't you know her?" I asked. + +"I know a half a hundred Parkers," he replied. "I may know Edith +Parker, but I can't recall her." + +"This one is your book-keeper's daughter," I said with considerable +heat. + +"Indeed," said he calmly. "Parker--Parker--I thought our book-keeper's +name was Smyth. Yes--I'm quite sure it's Smyth." + +"But Tim says it's Parker," said I. "Tim ought to know." + +"Tim should know," laughed Weston. "I guess he does know better than +I. A minute ago I would have sworn it was Smyth; but to tell the +truth, I never gave any attention to such details of business. Well, +Edith is my book-keeper's daughter." + +"She lives in Brooklyn," said I, "and she is very beautiful. Every +letter I get from Tim, the more beautiful she becomes, for in all my +life I never heard of a fellow as frank as he is. Usually men hide +what sentiment they have except from a few women, but his letters make +me blush when I read them." + +"They are so full of gush," said Weston, calmly smoking. + +He seemed very indifferent, and to be more listening to the cries of +the dogs working around the hollow than to the affairs of the Hope +family. + +"Gush is the word for it," I answered. "Tim never gives me a line +about himself. It's all Edith--Edith--Edith." + +"And he is engaged to Miss Smyth?" Weston struck his legging a sharp +blow with his stick. "Confound it!" he cried, "I can't get it out of +my head that our book-keeper's name is Smyth." + +"But Tim knows, surely," said I. + +"Yes--he must," answered Weston. "Of course I'm wrong. But this Miss +Parker--are they engaged?" + +"I can't tell from his last letter," I replied. "It seems that they +must be pretty near it--that's what Mary says, too." + +Weston started. Then he rose to his feet very slowly, and wheeling +about looked down on me and smoked. + +"Mary says so too," he repeated. "How in the world does Mary know?" + +"I read her the letter," said I, apologetically. It did seem wrong to +read Tim's letter that way. From my standpoint it was all right now, +but Weston did not know that, so he whistled softly to himself. + +From the hollow came the long-drawn cry of the hound. It was old +Captain. Betsy joined in, then Mike; and now the ridges rang with the +music of the chase. They were on a fresh trail; they were away over +hill and hollow, singing full-throated as they ran. + +"They've found him," I cried, rising to hear the song of the hounds. + +Weston sat down on the log. + +"They are making for the other ridge," said I, pointing over the narrow +gully. "Hark! There's young Colonel." + +But Weston went on smoking. "Poor Tim!" I heard him say. + +Full and strong rang the music of the dogs, as they swung out of the +hollow, up the ridge-side. For a moment, in the clearing, I had a +glimpse of them, Captain leading, with Betsy at his haunches, and Mike +and Major nose and nose behind them. Far in the rear, but in the +chase, was little Colonel. A grand puppy, he! All ears and feet. But +he runs bravely through the tangled brush. Many a stouter dog comes +from it with flanks all torn and bloody. I waved my hat wildly, +cheering him on. I called to him loudly, in the vain hope he might +look back, as though at a time like this a hound would turn from the +trail. On he went into the woods--nose to the ground and body low--all +feet and ears--and a stout heart! + +"Now we must wait," I said, "and watch, and hope." + +Already they had turned the crest of the hill, and fainter and fainter +came the sound of the chase. + +"Mark," Weston began, "I hope this affair of Tim's turns out all right. +What little I can do shall be done, and to-night I'm going to write to +the office that they must help him along. He deserves it." + +"But the poorer men are, the greater their love," I laughed. "With +money to marry, Tim might think that after all he'd better look around +more--take a choice." + +"But Tim is the most serious person that ever was," returned Weston. +"I have found that out. Once he makes up his mind, there is no +changing it. He is full of ideas. He actually thinks that a man who +is in business is doing something praiseworthy; that a man who has +bought and sold merchandise at a profit all his life can fold his hands +when he dies and say; 'I have not lived in vain.' He does not know yet +that the larger estate a man leaves to his relatives the more useful +his life has been. Now I suppose he hopes some day to be a tea-king. +Perhaps he will. I hope so. I don't want the job. But once he has +picked out his queen, you can't change him by making marriage a +financial impossibility." + +"Well, I'm certainly not protesting against your raising his salary," +said I. + +"You needn't. To tell the truth, it's too late. I wrote to the office +about that yesterday." + +It was of no use to thank Weston for anything. I tried to, but he +brushed it aside airily and told me to attend to my own affairs and +light one of his cigars. When we were smoking together, his mood +became more serious, and as he spoke of Tim and Tim's ambition, and of +his interest in the boy, he was carried back to his own earlier life. +So for the first time I came to understand his prolonged stay in the +valley. + +Like Elmer Spiker, in my heart Weston's conduct puzzled me. When he +told me that he had come here simply because he liked the country I +believed him that far, but I suspected some deeper reason to keep a man +of his stamp dawdling in a remote valley. Now it was so simple. The +foundation of Weston's fortunes had been laid in one small saloon; its +bulk had been built on a chain stretching from end to end of the city. +Its founder had been a coarse, uneducated man, but his success in the +liquor trade had been too great to be forgotten, even years after he +had abandoned it and built up the great commercial house that bore his +name. His ambition for his son had been boundless. He had spared +nothing to make him a better man in the world's eye than his father. +He had succeeded. But the world had persisted in remembering the +parental bar. Robert Weston had never seen that bar, for he had +entered on the scene when there was a chain of them, and his father had +brought him up almost in ignorance of their very existence. Even at +the university he had little reason to be ashamed of them. It was +after he had spent years in rounding out his education abroad, and had +returned to take his place in those circles which he believed he was +entitled to enter, that he found that the world persisted in pointing +to the large revenue stamp that seemed to cling to him. A stronger man +would have fought against odds like those and won for himself a place +that would suffer no denial. But Weston was physically a delicate man. +By nature he was retiring, rather than aggressive. If those who were +his equals would have none of him because of his father's faults, then +he would not seek them. Equally distasteful were those who equalled +him in wealth alone, for by a strange contradiction, the very fact that +the rumshop did not jar on their sensibilities, marked them for him as +coarse and uncongenial. Weston had turned to himself. It is the study +of oneself that makes cynics. The study of others makes egotists. +Then a woman had come. Of her Weston did not say much, except that she +had made him turn from himself for a time to study her. He had become +an egotist and so had dared to love her. She had loved him, he +thought, for she said so, and promised to become his wife. Things were +growing brighter. But they met an officious friend. They were in +Venice at the time, he having joined her there with her family. The +officious friend joined the family too, and he held up his hands in +horror when he heard of it. Didn't the family know? Oh, yes, Bob was +himself a fine fellow; but he was Whiskey Weston! + +"Of course, no good woman wants to be Mrs. Whiskey Weston," said my +friend grimly. "Still, I think she did care a bit for me; but it was +all up. Back I came, and here I am, Mark, just kind of stopping to +stretch my legs and rest a little and breathe. I came on a wheel, for +I had ridden for miles and miles trying to get my mind back on myself +the way it used to be." + +Then he smoked. + +"Is that the dogs again?" I said, to break the oppressive silence. + +Weston did not heed me, but pointed down the valley to the house by the +clump of oaks. + +"Do you know sometimes I think that Mary there, with all her bringing +up, would edge away from me if she knew that my father had kept saloons +and gambling places and all that." Weston spoke carelessly, puffing at +his cigar, for he had recovered his easy demeanor. "I think a world of +Mary, Mark. She is beautiful, and good, and honest. Sometimes I +suspect that I've stayed here just for her. Sometimes I think I will +not leave till she goes--" Weston sprang to his feet. "It's the dogs! +Hear them!" he cried. + +I was up too. Away down the ridge we heard the bay of the hounds again. + +"I want to tell you something," I said, pointing to the house by the +clump of oaks. "I wish for your sake that there were two Marys, +Weston. But there is only one, and she is good and beautiful, and for +some reason--Heaven only knows why--she is going to be my wife." + +Weston stepped hack and gazed at me. I did not blame him. He seemed +to study me from head to foot, and I knew that he was trying to find +some reason why the girl should care for me. It was natural. I had +puzzled over the same problem and I had not solved it. Now I did not +care. + +"Stare on," I cried, laughing. "You can't think it queerer than I do. +It's hard for me to convince myself that it is true." + +"I am glad," he said, taking my hand in a warm grasp. "It isn't +strange at all, Mark, for Mary is a wise woman." + +"There are the dogs," said I; "they are getting nearer." + +"They are coming our way at last," he returned quietly. "But what's +that to us when you are to be married? I wish you joy and I shall be +at the wedding, and it must be soon, too, and Tim shall be here." He +was speaking very rapidly; his face was pale and his hand trembled in +mine. "I'll send for him. Tim must have a holiday, and perhaps he'll +bring Miss--Miss Smyth." Weston laughed. "Parker," he corrected. +"He'll bring Miss Parker or Mrs. Tim." + +Full and strong the bay of the hounds was ringing along the ridges. +Nearer and nearer they were coming. Now I could hear old Captain's +deep tones, and the shorter, sharper tongue of Betsy, Mike, and Major. +The fox was keeping to the ridge-top and in a few moments he would be +sweeping by us. I pointed through the woods to a bit of clearing made +by a charcoal burner. If he kept his course the fox would cross it, +and that meant a clear shot. Weston knew the place, and without a word +he picked up his gun and hurried through the woods. + +Nearer and nearer came the hounds. The woods were ringing with their +music, and the sound of the chase swung to and fro, from ridge to +ridge. Now I could hear the crashing of the underbrush. + +Weston fired. The report rattled from hill to hill. + +My own gun sprang to the shoulder, but it was too late. The fox, +seeing me, veered down the slope, and swept on to safety or to death, +for six more anxious hunters were watching for him somewhere in those +woods. + +The dogs swept by, old Captain as ever leading, with Betsy at his +haunches and Mike and Major neck and neck behind. + +I watched for little Colonel. A minute passed and he did not come. +Poor puppy! He had learned that to live was to suffer. Somewhere in +these woods he must be lying, resting those ponderous paws and licking +his bloody flanks. + +The hollow was alive with the bay of dogs; the ridges were ringing with +the echoes of a gunshot; but above them all I heard a plaintive wail +over there in the charcoal clearing. I called for Weston and I got no +answer, only the cry of the little hound. I called again and I got no +answer. Through the hushes I tore as fast as my crutches would take +me, calling as I ran and hearing only the wail of the puppy, till I +broke from the cover into the open. + +On his haunches, his slantwise eyes half closed, his head lifted high +in the bright sunlight, sat little Colonel, wailing. He heard me call. +He saw me. And when I reached him he was licking the white face of +Whiskey Weston. + +[Illustration: Sat little Colonel, wailing.] + + + + +XIII + +Hindsight is better than foresight. A foolish saying. By foresight we +do God's will. By hindsight we would seek to better His handiwork. +Things are right as they are, I say, as I sit quietly of an evening +smoking my pipe on my porch, watching the mountains in the west bathe +in the gold and purple of the descending sun. What might have been, +might also have been all wrong. A foolish saying, says Tim, for if +what might have been should actually be, then we should have the +realization of our fondest dreams. And with that realization might +come a dreadful awakening from our dreams, say I. You might have +become a tea-king, Tim, and measure your fortune in millions. I might +have turned lawyer instead of soldier; I might have made a great name +for myself in Congress by long speeches full of dry facts and figures, +or short ones puffed up with pompous phrases. The fact that Six Stars +existed might have gone beyond our valley because here you and I were +born, and for a time we honored the place with our presence. Suppose +all that had been, and you the tea-king and I the great lawyer sat here +together as we sit now, smoking, could you add one note to the evening +peace; would the night-hawk pay us homage by a single added ring as he +circles among the clouds; would the bull-frogs in the creek sing louder +to our glory; would the bleating of the sheep swing in sweeter to the +music of the valley? And look at God's fireplace, I cry, pointing to +the west, where the sun is heaping the glowing cloud coals among the +mountains. God's fireplace? says Tim, with a queer look in his eyes. +Yes, say I, and the valley is the hearthstone. The mountains are the +andirons. Over them, piled sky high, the cloud-logs are glowing, and +never logs burned like those, all gold and red. Night after night I +can sit here and warm my heart at that fireside. Could you, tea-king, +buy for my eyes a picture more wonderful? The fire is dying. The +cloud coals grow fainter--now purple; and now in ashes they float away +into the chill blue. But they will come again. Could your millions, +tea-king, buy for me a sweeter music than the valley's heart throb as +it rocks itself to sleep? + +"No," Tim answers, "but suppose----" + +"And could I have better company to watch and listen with?" I exclaim. +"For with you a tea-king, Tim, and I a lawyer, it would be just the +same, would it not?" + +"That's just what I was trying to get at," says Tim. "Suppose that day +of the fox-hunt you had not carried Weston----" + +I hold up my hand to check him. + +"Were it to happen a hundred times over, I would take him to Mary's," I +cry. "Else he would have died." + +"You are right, Mark," Tim says. + + * * * * * * + +I took Weston to Mary's house that day when I found him lying in the +charcoal clearing, with little Colonel standing over him wailing. +Tearing open his coat and shirt, I stanched his wound as best I could. +Then I called the others to me. Tip and Arnold picked him up and +carried him, while Murphy Kallaberger and I broke a path through the +bushes, and Aaron ran on to Warden's to tell them of the accident and +have them prepare for the wounded man. Warden's was the nearest house, +but that was a mile from the clearing, and in the woods our progress +was slow. Once free of the ridges and in the open fields the way was +easy, and Murphy could lend a hand to the others. + +"He's monstrous light," Tip said. "He doesn't seem no more than skin +and bones in fancy rags." + +It is strange how even our clothes go back on us when we are down. +Weston I had always known as a lanky man, but about his loosely fitting +garments there had been an air of careless distinction. Now that he +was broken, they hung with such an odd perversion as to bring from its +hiding-place every sharp angle in the thin frame. The best nine +tailors living could not have clothed him better for that little +journey, nor lessened a whit the pathos of the thin arms that lay +limply across the shoulders of Tip and Arnold. + +"He's a livin' skelington," old Arker whispered, as I plodded along at +his side. "Poor devil!" + +"Poor devil!" said I. For looking at the almost lifeless man I thought +of my own good fortune. This morning I had envied him. Now he had +nothing but his wealth, and his hold on that was weakening fast. I had +everything--life and health, home and friends--I had Mary. As we +parted a few minutes before, up there in the woods, I had pitied him. +He had seemed so lonely, so bitter in his loneliness, and yet at heart +so good. Now his eyes half opened as they carried him on, his glance +met mine in recognition, and it seemed to me that he smiled faintly. +But it was the same bitter smile. "Poor devil!" I said to myself. + +And we carried him into Mary's house. + +She was waiting for us, and without a word led us upstairs to a room +where we laid him on a bed. + +"I stumbled, Mark, I stumbled," he whispered, as I leaned over him. +"The fox came and I ran for it--then I fell--and then the little hound +came, and then----" + +Mary was bathing his forehead, and for the first time he saw her. + +"I stumbled, Mary," he whispered. "I swear it." + + * * * * * * + +It was nearly ten o'clock when I left Weston's room. The doctor was +with him and was preparing to bivouac at the patient's side. He was a +young man from the big valley. Luther Warden had driven to the county +town and brought him back to us. The first misgivings I had when I +caught sight of his youthful, beardless face were dispelled by the +business-like way in which he went about his work. He had been in a +volunteer regiment, he told me, as an assistant surgeon, but had never +gone past the fever camps, as this was his first case of a gunshot +wound. He had made a study of gunshot wounds, and deemed himself +fortunate to be in when Mr. Warden called. Truly, said I to myself, +one man's death is another man's practice. But it was best that he was +so confident, and I found my faith in him growing as he worked. The +wound was a bad one, he said, and the ball had narrowly missed the +heart, but with care the man would come around all right. The main +thing was proper nursing. The young doctor smiled as he spoke, for +standing before him in a solemn row were half the women of Six Stars. +Mrs. Bolum was there with a tumbler of jelly; Mrs. Tip Pulsifer had +brought her "paytent gradeated medicent glass," hoping it would be +useful; Mrs. Henry Holmes had no idea what was needed, but just grabbed +a hot-water bottle as she ran. Elmer Spiker's better half was there to +demand her injured boarder at once; he paid for his room at the tavern; +it was but right that he should occupy it and that she should care for +him. When she found that she could not have him entirely, she +compromised on the promise that she would be allowed to watch over him +the whole of the next day. In spite of the jar of jelly, the doctor +chose Mrs. Bolum to help him that night, and when I left them the old +woman was sitting in a rocker at the bedside, her eyes watching every +movement of the sleeping patient's drawn face. + +[Illustration: The main thing was proper nursing.] + +Outside, the wind was whistling. The steady heating of an oak branch +on the porch roof told me it was blowing hard. It sounded cold. Mary +stood tiptoe to reach my collar and turn it up. Then she buttoned me +snug around the neck. It was the first time a woman had ever done that +for me. How good it was! I absently turned the collar down again and +tore my coat open. Then I smiled. + +Again she raised herself tiptoe before me, and with a hand on each +shoulder, she stood looking from her eyes into mine. + +"You fraud!" she cried. + +Then I laughed. Lord, how I laughed! Twenty-four years I had lived, +and until now I had never known a real joke, one that made the heart +beat quicker, and sent the blood singing through the veins; that made +the fingers tingle, the ears burn, and brought tears to the eyes. I +don't suppose that other people would have thought this one so amusing. +The young doctor upstairs might not have feigned a smile, for instance. +That was what made it all the better for me, for it was my own joke and +Mary's, and in all the world I was the only man who could see the fun +of it. + +"When you turn that collar up again I am going," said I. + +So she sprang away from me, laughing, and quick as I reached out to +seize her, she avoided me. + +"You know I can't catch you," I cried, taunting her, "so I must wait." + +As she stood there before me quietly, her hands clasped, her eyes +looking up into mine, I saw how fair she was, and I wondered. The +picture of Weston in the woods, standing off there gazing at me, came +back then, and with it a vague feeling of fear and distrust. I saw +myself as Weston saw me, and I marvelled. + +"Mary," I said, "this morning up there in the woods I told Robert +Weston everything, and he stood off just as you are standing now. It +seemed to me he wondered how it could be true, and now I wonder too. +Maybe it's all a mistake." + +"It's not a mistake, Mark," the girl said, and she came to me again and +put a hand on each shoulder and looked up. "If I did not care for you +I'd never have given you the promise I did last night. But I do care +for you, Mark, more than for anyone else in the world. You are big and +strong and good--that's why--it's all any woman can ask. You are true, +Mark--and that's more than most men----" + +"But, Mary, there's Tim," I protested, for I did not care to usurp to +myself the sum of all the virtues allotted to my sex. + +"Tim?" said she lightly, as though she had never heard of him. + +"Yes, Tim," I said shortly. "Why did you choose me instead of a lad +like Tim?" + +"Mark, I care for you more than anyone else in the world," said Mary. + +"But do you love me?" I asked quickly. + +"I think I do," she said. But reaching up, she turned my collar again +and buttoned my coat against the storm. + + + + +XIV + +Tim was home in three days. His few months of town life had wrought +many changes in him, and they were for the better. I was forced to +admit that, but I could not help being just a little in awe of him. He +was not as heavy as of old, but there was more firmness in his face and +figure. Perhaps it was his clothes that had given him a strange new +grace, for in the old days he was a ponderous, slow-moving fellow. Now +there was a lightness in his step and quickness in his every motion. +Had I not known him, I should have seen in the scrupulous part in his +hair a suggestion of the foppish. But I knew him, and while I liked +him best with his old tousled head, and tanned face, and homely hickory +shirt, I felt a certain pride that he had taken so well with the world +and was learning the ways of the town as well as those of the field and +wood. His gloves did seem foolish, for it was a bitter December day +when the blood had best had full swing in the veins, but he held out to +me a hand pinched in a few square inches of yellow kid. The grasp was +just as warm though, and I forgave that. When he threw aside his silly +little overcoat and stood before me, so tall and strong, so clean-cut +and faultless, from the part in his hair to the shine on his boot-tips, +I cried, "Heigh-ho, my fine gentleman!" + +Then he blushed. I suspected that it pleased him vastly. + +"Do you think it an improvement?" he faltered, standing with his back +to the fireplace and lifting himself to his full height. + +Before I could reply, the door flew open without the formality of a +knock, and old Mrs. Bolum ran in. When she saw him, she stopped and +stared. + +"Well, ain't he tasty!" she cried. + +[Illustration: Well, ain't he tasty.] + +Then she courtesied most formally. "How do you do, Mr. Hope?" she said. + +"And how is Mrs. Bolum?" returned Tim gravely, advancing toward her +with his hand outstretched. + +The old woman rubbed her own hand on her apron, an honor usually +accorded only to the preacher, and held it out. Tim seized it, but he +brought his other arm around her waist and lifted her from the floor in +one mighty embrace. + +"You'll spoil your Sunday clothes," panted Mrs. Bolum, when she reached +the floor again. Stepping back, she eyed him critically. "You look +handsomer than a drummer," she cried admiringly. + +"Thank you, ma'am," said Tim very meekly. + +"I'm so sorry I left my spectacles at home," she went on. "My eyes +ain't as good as they used to be and I can't see you plain as I'd like. +Mebbe it's my sight as is the trouble, but it seems to me, as I see you +now without my glasses, you're just about the prettiest man that ever +come to Six Stars." + +"Lord, ma'am," protested Tim. "And how is Mr. Bolum?" + +"And such a lovely suit," continued the old woman, cautiously +approaching and moving her hand across my brother's chest. "Why, Tim, +you must have on complete store clothes--dear, oh, dear--to think of +Tim Hope gittin' so fine and dressy! Now had it 'a' been Mark I +wouldn't 'a' been so took back, for he allus was uppy and big feelin'. +But Tim!" + +Mrs. Bolum shook her head and held her hands up in astonishment. + +"And how is Mr. Bolum?" shouted Tim. + +"Never was better, 'ceptin' for his rheumatism and asphmy," was the +answer, but the good woman was not to be turned aside that way. "And a +cady," she cried, for her eyes had caught Tim's hat and the silly +yellow overcoat on the chair where I had thrown them. "A cady, too! +Now just put it on and let me see how you look." + +Tim obeyed. Mrs. Bolum stepped hack to get a better effect. + +"It ain't as pretty as your coon-skin," she said critically; "you'd +look lovely in that suit with your coon-skin cap--but hold on--don't +take it off--I want Bolum to see you." + +She ran from the room and we heard her calling from the porch: +"Bo-lum--Bo-lum--Isaac Bo-oh-lum." + +Isaac was at the store. It seemed to me that his wife should have +known that without much research. The little pile of sticks by the +kitchen-door showed that his day's work was done, for when he had split +the wood for the morrow it was the old man's custom to put aside all +worldly care and start on a tour of the village, which generally ended +on the bench at Henry Holmes's side. + +It was almost dusk. Tim had come on a mission to Robert Weston. I had +sent word to him of the accident, that Weston's friends might know, and +the first thought of the injured man's partner was to hurry to Six +Stars, but my second despatch, announcing that our friend was well on +the road to recovery, led to the change in plans that brought Tim to +us. Mrs. Bolum did not succeed in alarming the village before he and I +were well up the road, past the school-house and climbing the hill to +Warden's. + +Tim had a great deal to tell me in that short walk. I had much to tell +him, but I was silent and let him chatter on, giving but little +attention to what he said, for I was planning a great surprise. The +simplest thing would have been to tell him my secret then, but I had +pictured something more dramatic. I wanted Mary to witness his +dumfounding when he heard the news. I wanted her to be there when its +full import broke upon him; then the three of us, Mary and Tim and I, +would do a wild jig. What boon companions we should be--we three--to +go through life together! And Edith? Four of us--so much the better! +I had never seen this Edith, but Tim is a wonderful judge of women. + +So I let him talk, on and on about the city and his life there, until +we reached the house. We found that Mrs. Spiker had secured her +rights, and was on duty that day as nurse. The young doctor was there, +too, as were Mrs. Tip Pulsifer and a half dozen others, a goodly +company to greet us. + +"Hello, Mary!" Tim cried, breaking through the others, when he caught +sight of her, standing at the foot of the stairs with a lighted candle +in her hand. + +"Hello, Tim!" cried Mary. "And where is Edith?" + +"Edith?" Tim exclaimed, stopping as if to collect the thoughts her +sudden taunting question had scattered. "I left her behind this time, +but when I come again you shall see her." Tim, with arms akimbo, stood +there laughing. + +"We country girls, I understand, cannot compare with her," said Mary, +tilting her chin. + +She had started up the stairs, and now paused, looking down on us. And +I looked up at her face showing out of the darkness in the half light, +and I laughed, wondering what Tim thought, wondering if he was blind, +or was this Edith really bewildering. + +"Did I say that?" cried Tim. "Then I must have meant it when I said +it. To-night I have learned better, Mary, but you know I never saw you +standing that way before--on the stairs above me--kind of like an angel +with a halo----" + +"Indeed!" retorted Mary; "but we women of Black Log deck ourselves out +in gaudy finery, Mr. Tim, I believe. We women of Black Log do not +inspire a man, like your Edith." + +"Confound my Edith!" Tim exclaimed hotly. "Why, Mary, can't you see I +was joking? The idea of comparing Edith with you--why, Mary----" + +Tim in his protest started to mount the stairs, and there was an +earnestness in his tone that made me think it high time he knew our +secret, for his own sake and for Edith's. It seemed to me unfair of +him to desert her so basely in the presence of an enemy. He should +have stood by her to the very end, and had he boldly declared that as +compared to her Mary was a mummy I should have admired him the more; I +should have understood; I should have known he was mistaken, but +endured it. Now I seized him by the coat and pulled him back. + +"Tim," I said solemnly, "I have something to tell you." + +My brother turned and gave me a startled look. + +"Mary and I have something to tell you," I went on. + +That should have given him a clew. I had expected that at this point +he would embrace me. But he didn't. + +"I suppose you think I've been a fool about Edith?" he muttered +ruefully. + +"No, it isn't that," I laughed. "Mary, will you tell him?" + +But we were in darkness! She had dropped the candle, and down the +stairs the stick came clattering. It landed on the floor and went +rolling across the room. Tim made a dive for it. He groped his way to +the corner where its career had ended. Then he lighted it again. + +Behind us stood the doctor, and Mrs. Tip Pulsifer, and Elmer Spiker's +much better half. Mary was at the head of the stairs. + +"Come, Tim," she called. "Mr. Weston wants to see you." + +"Weston does want to see you very much, Tim," the wounded man said +smiling, lifting a thin hand from the bed for my brother; "I heard you +chattering downstairs, and I thought you were never coming." + +"It was Mary's fault," Tim said. "I came back as soon as I could, sir. +Mr. Mills sent me up on the night train--out this afternoon in a livery +rig--here afoot just as fast as Mark would let me--then Mary blocked +the way. Mark was going to tell me something when she dropped the +candle." + +"Why, don't you know--" began Weston. + +But over my brother's shoulders I shook my head sternly at him and he +stopped and broke into a laugh. + +Mrs. Elmer Spiker was standing by him; the young doctor was moving +about the room, apparently very busy; Mrs. Tip Pulsifer was peeping in +at the door. + +"Didn't you know," said Weston, "how I'd shot myself all to pieces, and +how there's a live fox in the hollows across the ridge?" + +"Mark told me of it," answered the innocent Tim, "and I'm glad to find +it is not serious. They were worried at the store. Mr. Mills was for +coming right away, but we got word you were better, and he thought I +should run up anyway for a day to see if we could do anything. I'm to +go back to-morrow." + +"It was good of you to come," Weston said, "but there is nothing to be +done. Just tell Mills the whole valley is nursing me; tell him that +I've one nurse alone who is worth a score." Mrs. Spiker looked very +conscious, but Weston smiled at Mary. Then he quickly added: "Tell him +that Mrs. Bolum and Mrs. Spiker and Mrs. Pulsifer--" he paused to make +sure that none was missed--"and Mark here are a hospital corps, taken +singly or in a body." + +"I've told him that already," said Tim. "He knows everybody in Six +Stars, I guess, and he says as soon as you get well and come back to +the office, he will take a holiday himself, fox hunting." + +"Poor little Colonel!" murmured Weston. "He'll have a melancholy +career. And Mary, too, she'll----" + +"But it was when I told him about Mary that he made up his mind to +come," Tim said. + +"Indeed." The girl spoke very quietly. "And, perhaps, Tim, you'll +send Edith along to help us. We women of Black Log are so clumsy." + +"A good idea," said Weston. "Capital. You must bring Miss Smyth up, +too, Tim." + +"Parker," I corrected, "Edith Parker." + +"But is it Parker?" Weston appealed to my brother. "Mark tells me +she's the book-keeper's daughter. Has old Smyth gone?" + +"No," Tim stammered, very much confused. "I guess you don't know +Parker. He's come lately." + +"That explains it, then," said Weston. + +But he turned and looked away from us, his brow knitted. Something +seemed to puzzle him, for he was frowning, but by and by the old +cynical smile came back. + +He said suddenly: "Tim, I wish you luck. I'm glad anyway it isn't +Smyth's daughter. That was what I couldn't understand. Ever see +Smyth's daughter? No. Well, you needn't bemoan it. I dare say Miss +Parker is all you picture her, and I hope you'll win." + +"Don't you think you'd better rest now?" asked Tim, with sudden +solicitation. Though he addressed himself to Weston, his eyes were +appealing to the doctor. + +"I think I had," Weston answered, not waiting for the physician to +interpose any order. "I get tuckered out pretty easily these days, +with this confounded bullet-hole in me--but stay a moment, Tim. +They've got a letter from me at the office by this time. It may +surprise them; it may surprise you, but I wanted you to know I'd fixed +it all right for you, my boy. I did it for Edith's sake." + +Tim, with face flushed and hands outstretched in protest, arose from +his chair and went to the bedside. + +"But don't you see it's all a joke," he cried. "I can't take it. +Won't you believe me this time? There isn't any Edith!" + +"I knew that long ago, Tim," Weston answered quietly. "But there may +be some day." + +He turned his back to us. + +"Please go," he said brusquely. "I want to rest. Don't stand over me +that way, Tim. Why, you look like little Colonel!" + + * * * * * * + +At the school-house door Tim halted suddenly. + +"I'm going back, Mark," he whispered, "just for a minute. Weston will +think I'm a fraud and I want to tell him something. Now that the +others have left I may have a chance. Confound these kind-hearted +women that overrun the house! Why, a fellow couldn't say a word +without a dozen ears to hear it." + +"I'll go back with you," said I. + +We had fallen a few steps behind the others, but somehow they divined +our purpose and stopped, too. + +"You needn't," said Tim. "I'll only be a minute." + +"But I've something to tell you--a secret--and Mary----" + +He was gone. + +"I'll be back in a minute," he called. "Go on home." + +He was lost in the darkness, and I started after him. + +"Ain't you comin'?" cried Nanny Pulsifer. + +"I must go back to Warden's," I answered. + +"Then we'll go with you," said Mrs. Spiker firmly. + +"Can't you go on home?" I said testily. "There's no use of your +troubling yourself further." + +"Does you think we'll walk by that graveyard alone?" demanded the +tavern-keeper's wife. + +"But there are no ghosts," I argued. + +[Illustration: "But there are no ghosts," I argued.] + +"We know that," returned Mrs. Pulsifer. "Everybody knows that, but +it's never made any difference." + +"A graveyard is a graveyard even if there is no bodies in it," said +Mrs. Spiker, planting herself behind me so as to cut off further +retreat. + +Tim must have caught some echoes of the argument on the spirit world, +for down the hill, through the darkness, came his call. + +"Go on home, Mark--I'll be back in a minute." + +I believed him, and I obeyed. + + + + +XV + +Tim's minute? God keep me from another as long! + +I had my pipe in my chair by the fire, and knocking the ashes out, I +went to the door, and with a hand to my ear listened for his footsteps. +Tim's minutes are long! Another pipe, and the clock on the mantel +marked nine. Still I smoked on. He had had a long talk with Weston, +perhaps, and had stopped downstairs for a minute with Mary. She had +told him all. How astounded the boy must be! Why, it would take her a +half hour at least to convince him that she spoke the truth when she +told him she was to marry his wreck of a brother; then when he believed +it, another half hour would hardly be enough for him to welcome her +into the family of Hope, and to talk over the wonderful fortunes of its +sons. Doubtless he had felt it incumbent on himself to sing my +praises, for he had always been blind to my faults. In this +possibility of his tarrying to display my virtues there was some +compensation for my sitting alone, with old Captain and young Colonel, +both sleeping, and only my pipe for company. Of course, I should +really be there with Tim, but Nanny Pulsifer and Mrs. Spiker had +decreed otherwise. Who knows how great may be my reward for bringing +them safely past the graveyard! + +The third pipe snuffled out. I opened the door and listened. Tim's +minutes are long, for the last light in the village is out now. I went +to the gate and stood there till I caught the sound of foot-falls. +Then I whistled softly. There was no reply, but in a moment Perry +Thomas stepped into the light of our window. + +"Good-evening," he said cheerfully. "It's rather chilly to be +swinging on the gate." + +"I was waiting for Tim," I answered. + +Perry gave a little dry cackle. "Let's go in," he said. "It's too +cold out here to discuss these great events." + +I did not know what he meant, neither did I much care, for Perry always +treated the most trivial affairs in the most elegant language he knew. +But now that he stood there with his back to the fire, warming his +hands, he made himself more clear. + +"Well, Mark," he said, "I congratulate you most heartily." + +I divined his meaning. It did not seem odd that he had learned my +secret, for I was lost in admiration of his having once weighed an +event at its proper value. So I thanked him and returned to my chair +and my pipe. + +"Of course it hurts me a bit here," said he, laying his hand on his +watch-pocket. "I had hopes at one time myself, but I fear I depended +too much on music and elocution. Do you know I'm beginnin' to think +that a man shouldn't depend so much on art with weemen. I notice them +gets along best who doesn't keep their arms entirely occupied with +gestures and workin' the fiddle." + +[Illustration: "Of course it hurts me a bit here."] + +Perry winked sagely at this and cackled. He rocked violently to and +fro on his feet, from heel to toe and toe to heel. + +"Yet it ain't a bit onreasonable," he went on. "The artist thinks he +is amusin' others, when, as a matter of fact, he is gettin' about +ninety per cent. of the fun himself. We allus enjoys our own singin' +best. I see that now. I thought it up as I was comin' down the road +and I concided that the next time I seen a likely lookin' Mrs. Perry +Thomas, she could do the singin' and the fiddlin' and the elocution, +and I'd set by and look on and say, 'Ain't it lovely?'" + +"You bear your disappointments bravely," said I. + +"Not at all," Perry responded. "I'm used to 'em. Why, I don't know +what I'd do if I wasn't disappointed. Some day a girl will happen +along who won't disappoint me, and then I'll be so set back, I allow I +won't have courage to get outen the walley. Had I knowd yesterday how +as all the courtin' I've done since the first of last June was to come +tumblin' down on my head to-night like ceilin' plaster, not a wink of +sleep would I 'a' had. Now I know it. Does I look like I was goin' to +jump down the well? No, sir. 'Perry,' I says, 'you've had a nice time +settin' a-dreamin' of her; you've sung love-songs to her as you +followed the plough; you've pictured her at your side as you've strayed +th'oo fields of daisies and looked at the moon. Now in the natural +course of events she's goin' to marry another. When she's gettin' +peekit like trying to keep the house goin' and at the same time prevent +her seven little ones from steppin' into the cistern or fallin' down +the hay-hole, you can make up another pretty pickter with one of the +nine hundred million other weemen on this globe as the central figger!'" + +At the conclusion of this philosophic speech my visitor adjusted his +thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, brought himself to rest with a click +of his heels and smiled his defiance. + +"But I congratulate you truly, heartily," he added. + +"Thank you, Perry," I answered. "In spite of your trifling way of +regarding women, I hope that some day you may find another as good as +Mary Warden." + +"The same to you, Mark," said he. + +"The same to me?" I cried, with a touch of resentment. + +"Of course," he replied. "I says to myself to-night, 'I hope Mark is +as fortunate,' I says, when I saw them two a----" + +"What two?" I exclaimed, lifting myself half out of my chair in my +eagerness. + +"Why, Tim and her," Perry answered. "Ain't you heard it yet, Mark? Am +I the first to know?" + +"Tim and her," I cried. "Tim and Mary?" + +"Yes," said Perry. + +He saw now that he was imparting strange news to me. In my sudden +agitation he divined that that news had struck hard home, and that I +was not blessed with his own philosophic nature. The smile left his +face. He stepped to me, as I sat there in the chair staring vacantly +into the fire, and laid a hand on my shoulder. + +"I thought of course you knowd it," he said gently. "I thought of +course you knowd all about it, and when I seen them up there to-night, +her a-holdin' to him so lovin', says I to myself, 'How pleased Mark +will be--he thinks so much of Tim and Mary.'" + +Tim's minute! I knew now why it was so long. I should have known it +long ago. I feared to ask Perry what he had seen. I divined it. I +had debated with myself too much the strangeness of Mary's promise, and +often in the last few days there had come over me a vague fear that I +was treading in the clouds. She had told me again and again that she +cared for me more than for anyone else in the world. But that night +when I had asked her if she loved me, she had turned my collar up. I +believed that when she spoke then it was what she thought the truth. +She had pledged herself to me and I had not demanded more. I had been +selfish enough to ask that she link herself to my narrow life, and she +had looked at me clear in the eye. "You are strong, Mark, and good, +and true," she had said, "and in all the world there is none I trust +more. I'll love you, too. I promise." + +On that promise I had built all my hopes and happiness, and it had +failed me. It was not strange. I had been a fool, a silly dreamer, +and now I had found it out. A soldier? Paugh! Away back somewhere in +the past, I had gone mad at a bugle-call. A hero? For a day. For a +day I had puffed myself up with pride at my deeds. And now those deeds +were forgotten. I was a veteran, a crippled pensioner, an humble +pedagogue, a petty farmer. This was the lot I had asked her to share. +She had made her promise, and that promise made and broken was more +than I deserved. From a heaven she had smiled down on me, and I had +climbed to the clouds, reaching out for her. Then her face was turned +from me, and down I had come, clattering to common earth, cursing +because I had hurt myself. + +I turned to my pipe and lighted it again. Old Captain came and rested +his head on my knee and looked up at me, as I stroked it slowly. + +"Poor dog," I said. It was such a relief, and Perry misunderstood. + +"Has he been hurt?" he asked sympathetically. + +"Yes," I answered, still stroking the old hound's head. "Very badly. +But he'll be all right in a few days--and we'll go on watching the +mountains--and thinking--and chasing foxes--to the end--the end that +comes to all poor dogs." + +"It's curious how attached one gets to a dog," said Perry sagely, +resuming his rocking from heel to toe and toe to heel. + +"It is curious," I said, smoking calmly. I even forced a grim smile. + +Now that I could smile, I was prepared to hear what Perry had to tell +me, for after all I had been drawing conclusions from what might prove +to be but inferences of his. But he had been so positive that in my +inmost heart I knew the import of all he had to say. + +"Well, Perry," I said, "you did give me a surprise. I didn't know it, +and, to tell the truth, was taken back a bit, for it hurt me here." I +imitated his effective waistcoat-pocket gesture, which caused him much +amusement. "I had hopes myself--you know that, and as I neither +fiddled nor recited poetry your own conclusions may be wrong." + +"But Tim didn't do nothin'," Perry cackled. "He just goes away and +lets her pine. When he comes back she falls right into his arms and +gazes up into his eyes, and--" Perry stopped rocking and looked into +the fire. "You know, Mark," he said after a pause, "it must be nice +not to be disappointed." + +"It must be very nice," said I, smoking harder than ever. + +"That's what I said to myself as I looked in the window and seen them." + +"You looked in the window--you peeped!" I fairly shouted, making a +hostile demonstration with a crutch. + +"Why, yes" said Perry, looking hurt that I should question his action +in the least. "I didn't mean to. Comin' from over the ridge I passed +Warden's and thought I'd stop in and warm up and see how Weston was. +So I stepped light along the porch, not wantin' to disturb him, and +seein' a light in the room, I looked in before I knocked. But I never +knocked, for I says to myself, 'I'll hurry down and tell Mark; it'll +please him.'" + +[Illustration: "And seein' a light in the room, I looked in."] + +"And you saw Tim and Mary," said I. + +"I should say I did," said Perry, "till I slipped away. But says I to +myself, 'It must be nice not to be disappointed.'" + +"You said you saw Tim and Mary," said I, a trifle angrily. + +"I should say I did," Perry answered, chuckling and rocking again on +his feet. "The two of 'em, standin' there in the lamplight by the +table, him a-lookin' down like he was dyin', her a-lookin' up like she +was dyin' and holdin' on to him like he was all there was left for her +in the world. It made me swaller, Mark, it made me swaller." + +There was a lump in Perry's throat at that moment, and he stopped his +rocking and turned to the fire, so his back was toward me. + +"Of course you knocked," said I, after a silence. + +"Of course I didn't," he snapped. "Do you suppose I was wanted then? +'No, sir,' I says, 'for them there is only two people in all the +world--there's Tim and there's Mary.'" + +Perry was putting on his overcoat, winding his long comforter about his +neck and drawing on his mittens. + +"To tell the truth," he said, with a forced laugh, "I don't feel as +chipper as I usually do under such like circumstances. It seems to me +you ain't so chipper as you might be, either, Mark." + +"Good-night, Perry," I said, smoking very hard. + +"Good-night," he answered. At the door he paused and gazed at me. + +"Say, Mark," he said, "them two was just intended for one another--you +know it--I see you know it. God picked 'em out for one another. I +know it. You know it, too. But it's hard not to be picked +yourself--ain't it?" + +Tim's minute! God keep me from such another! + + * * * * * * + +It was all so plain now. The fire was dying away. The hands of the +clock were crawling off another hour, and still he did not come. But +what did I care? All in the world that I loved I had lost--Mary and my +brother--and Tim had taken both. He who had so much had come in his +strength and robbed me, left me to sit alone night after night, with my +pipe and my dogs and my crutches. Had he told me that night when I +came back to the valley that he loved the girl in all truth, I should +have stood aside and cheered him on in his struggle against her, but I +had not measured the depth of his mind nor given him credit for +cunning. Perry Thomas saw it. He had gone away from her and wounded +her by his neglect. In the fabrication of the other girl, the +beautiful Edith, whose charms so outshone all other women, he had hit +at the heart of her vanity; and now he had come back so gayly and +easily to take from me what I might not have won in a lifetime. Losing +her, I cared little that what he had done had been in ignorance that I +loved her and that she was plighted to me. Losing her, I had no +thought of blame for the girl, for when she told me that in all the +world she cared for none so much as me, she meant it, for she believed +that he had passed out of her life. + +By the fireplace, so close that I could put my hand upon the arm, was +the rocking-chair I had placed for her, and many a night had I sat +there watching it and smiling, and picturing it as it was to be when +she came. There would Mary be, sewing beneath the lamplight; there the +fire burning, with old Captain and young Colonel, snuggling along the +hearthstone; here I should be with my pipe and my book, unread, in my +lap, for we should have many things to talk of, Mary and I. We should +have Tim. As he played the great game, we should be watching his every +move. And when he won, how she and I would smile over it and say "I +told you so!" When he lost--Tim was never to lose, for Tim was +invincible! Tim was a man of brain and brawn. His arm was the +strongest in the valley; in all our country there was no face so fine +as his; in all the world few men so good and true. + +Now he had come! The chair there was empty. So it would always be. +But here I should always be with my pipe and my crutches, and the dogs +snuggling by the fire. + +Tim had come! The clock hands were crawling on and on. His minute had +better end. I hurled my pipe into the smouldering coals; I tossed a +crutch at little Colonel, and the dog ran howling from the room. Old +Captain sat up on his haunches, his slantwise eyes wide open with +wonder. + +Aye, Captain, men are strange creatures. Their moods will change with +every clock-tick. One moment your master sits smoking and watching the +flames--the next he is tearing hatless from the house; and it is cold +outside and the wind in the chimney is tumbling down the soot. When +the wind sings like that in the chimney, it is sweeping full and sharp +down the village street, and across the flats by the graveyard, whither +he goes hobbling. + +Little Colonel comes cautiously into the room, hugging the wall till he +is back at the fireside. With his head between his fore-paws and one +eye closed, he watches the tiny tongue of flame licking up the last +coal. There are worse lives than a dog's. + + + + +XVI + +Tim came whistling down the road. He whistled full and clear, and +while he was still at the turn of the hill the wind brought me a bit of +his rollicking tune as I huddled on the school-house steps, waiting. +The world was going well with him. He had all that the wise count +good; he was winning what the foolish count better. With head high and +swinging arms he came on, the beat of his feet on the hard road keeping +time to his gay whistling. Tim was winning in the game. While his +brother was droning over the reader and the spelling-book with +two-score leather-headed children, he was fighting his way upward in +the world of commerce. While his brother was wringing a living from a +few acres of niggardly soil and a little school, he was on the road to +riches; while his brother was wrangling with the worthies of the store +over the momentous problems of the day, he was where those problems +were being worked out and standing by the men who were solving them. +All in this world worth having was Tim's, and now even what was his +brother's he had taken. To him that hath! From him that hath not! He +had all. I had nothing. Now as he came swinging on so carelessly, I +knew that I had lost even him. + +Never once had there come to my mind the thought of doing my brother +any bodily harm. My emotions were too conflicting for me to know just +why I had come at all into the night to meet him. Now it was against +him that the violence of my anger would vent itself. Now it was +against myself, and I cursed myself for an idle, dreaming fool. Then +came over me, overwhelming me, a sense of my own utter loneliness, and +against it Tim stood out so bold and clear-cut and strong; that I felt +myself crying out to him not to desert me and let a woman take him from +me. I thought of the old days when he and I had been all in all to +each other, and I hated the woman who had come between us, who had +lured me from him, who had lured him from me. Then as against my +misery, she stood out so bold and good, so wholly fair, that I cursed +Tim for taking her from me. I wanted to see him in the full heat of my +anger to tell him to his face how he had served me; to stand before him +an accuser till he slunk from me and left me alone, as I would be alone +from now to the end. + +So I had quickened my pace, hobbling up the starlit road to the +school-house. There I was driven by sheer exhaustion to the shelter of +the doorway, and in the narrow refuge I huddled, waiting and listening. +The keen wind found me out and seemed to take joy in rushing in on me +in biting gusts and then whirling away over the flat. By and by it +brought me the rollicking air my brother whistled, and then came the +sound of foot-falls. In a moment he would be passing, and I arose, +intending to hail him. It was easy enough when I heard only his +whistling to picture myself confrating him in anger, but now that in +the starlight I could see his dark form coming nearer and nearer; now +that he had broken into a snatch of a song we had often sung together, +my courage failed me and I slunk farther into my retreat. + +So Tim passed me. He went on toward the village, singing cheerfully +for company's sake, and I stood alone, in the shadow of the +school-house woods, listening. His song died away. I fancied I heard +the beat of his stick on the bridge; then there was silence. + +I turned. Through the pines on the eastward ridge the moon was +climbing, and now the white road stretched away before me. It was the +road to her house. The light that gleamed at the head of the hill was +her light, and many a night in this same spot I had stopped to take a +last look at it. It used to wink so softly to me as I waved a hand in +good-night. Now it seemed to leer. The friendly beacon on the hill +had become a wrecker's lantern. A battered hulk of a man, here I was, +stranded by the school-house. As the ship on the beach pounds +helplessly to and fro, now trying to drive itself farther into its +prison, now struggling to break the chains that hold it, so tossed +about my love and anger, I turned my face now toward the hill, now +toward the village. The same impulse that caused me to draw into the +darkness of the doorway instead of facing Tim made it impossible for me +to follow him home. Angry though I was, I wanted no quarrel, yet I +feared to meet him lest my temper should burst its bounds. But I had a +bitter wind to deal with, too, and if I could not go home, neither +could I stand longer in the road, turning in my quandary from the +beacon on the hill, where she was, to the light that gleamed in our +window in the village, where he was. + +The school-house gave me shelter. I groped my way to my desk and there +sank into my chair, leaned my head on my hands, and closed my eyes. I +wanted to shut out all the world. Here in the friendly darkness, in +the quiet of the night, I could think it all out. I could place myself +on trial, and starting at the beginning, retracing my life step by +step, I would find again the course my best self had laid down for me +to follow. For the moment I had lost that clear way. Blinded by my +seeming woes, I had been groping for it, and I had searched in vain. +But now the dizziness was going, and as I sat there in the darkness, my +eyes closed to shut out even the blackness about me, the light came. + +After a long while I looked up to see the moon high over the pines on +the eastward ridge, and its yellow light poured into the room, casting +dim shadows over the white walls, and bringing up before me row on row +of spectre desks. The chair I sat in, the table on which I leaned were +real enough. They were part of my to-day, but that dim-lighted room +was the school-house of my boyhood. The fourth of those spectre desks +measuring back from the stove, was where Tim and I sat day after day +together, with heads bowed over open books and eyes aslant. That was +not the same Tim who had passed me a while before, swaggering and +singing in the joy of his conquest; that was not the same Tim who had +stood before me that very afternoon in all the pomp of well-cut +clothes, drawing on his whitened hands a pair of woman's gloves; that +was not the same Tim who by his artful lies had won what had been +denied my stupid, blundering devotion. My Tim was a sturdy little +fellow whose booted legs scarce touched the floor, whose tousled black +head hardly showed above the desk-top. His cheeks would turn crimson +at the thought of woman's gloves on those brown hands. His tongue +would cleave to his mouth in a woman's presence, let alone his lying to +her. That was the real Tim--the rare Tim. To my eyes he was but a +small boy; to my mind he was a mighty man. The first reader that +presented such knotty problems to his intellectual side was but part of +the impedimenta of his youth, and was no fair measure of his real size. +That very day he had fought with me and for me; not because I was in +the right, but because I was his brother. + +A lean, cadaverous boy from along the mountain, a born enemy of the +lads of the village, had dared me. I endured his insults until the +time came when further forbearance would have been a disgrace, and then +I closed with him. In the front of the little circle drawn about us, +right outside there in the school-yard, Tim stood. As we pitched to +and fro, the cadaverous boy and I, Tim's shrill cry came to me, and +time and again I caught sight of his white face and small clinched +hands waving wildly. I believe I should have whipped the cadaverous +boy. I had suffered his foul kicks and borne him to the ground; in a +second I should have planted him fairly on his back, but his brother, +like him a lank, wiry lad and singly more than my match, ran at me. My +head swam beneath his blows, and I released my almost vanquished enemy +to face the new foe with upraised fists. Then Tim came. A black head +shot between me and my towering assailant. It caught him full in the +middle; he doubled like a staple and with a cry of pain toppled into +the snow. This gave me a brief respite to compel my fallen enemy to +capitulate, and when I turned from him, his brother was still +staggering about in drunken fashion, gasping and crying, "Foul!" Tim +did not know what he meant, but was standing alert, with head lowered, +ready to charge again at the first sign of renewed attack. He knew +neither "fight foul" nor "fight fair"; he knew only a brother in +trouble, and he had come to him in his best might. + +That was the real Tim! + +"I guess me and you can whip most anybody, Mark," he said, as he looked +up at me from his silly spelling-book that day. + +"As long as we stick together, Tim," I whispered in return. + +He laughed. Of course we would always stand together. + +That was long ago. Life is an everlasting waking up. We leave behind +us an endless trail of dreams. The real life is but a waking moment. +After all, it was the real Tim who had gone singing by as I crouched in +the shadow of the school-house. The comrade of my school-days, who had +fought for me with eyes closed and with the fury of a child, the +companion of the hunt, racing with me over the ridges with Captain +singing on before us, the brother at the fireside at night, poring over +some rare novel--he was only a phantom. Between me and the real man +there was no bond. He had grown above the valley; I was becoming more +and more a part of it, like the lone pine on Gander Knob, or the +piebald horse that drew the stage. His clothes alone had made wider +the breach between us. At first I had admired him. I was proud of my +brother. But Solomon in all his glory was dressed in his best; from +Dives to Lazarus is largely a matter of garments. Tim had made himself +just a bit better than I, when he donned his well-fitting suit and +pulled on his silly gloves. Beside him I was a coarse fellow, and to +me he was not the old Tim. + +This fine man had come back to the valley to take from me all that made +life good. He had struck me over the heart and stunned me and then +gone singing by. In Mary's eyes he was the better man of the two. To +my eyes he was, and I hated him for it. He could go his way and I +should go mine, for we must stand alone. In the morning he would go +away and leave me with the Tim I loved, with the boy who sat with me at +yonder desk, who raced with me over the ridges, who read with me at the +fireside. + +The shadows deepened in the school-room, for a curtain of clouds was +sweeping across the moon. Peering through the window, over the flats, +I saw a light gleaming steadily at the head of the village street. It +was my light burning in the window, and I knew that Tim was there, +waiting for me. All the past rose up to tell me that he was still the +comrade of my school-days, my companion of the hunt, my brother of the +fireside. + +My head sank to the table and my hands clasped my eyes to shut out the +blackness. But the blackness came again. + + + + +XVII + +Tip Pulsifer leaned on my gate. Crowning the post at his side was his +travelling bandanna, into which he had securely clasped by one great +knot all his portable possessions. It was very early in the morning, +in that half-dark and half-dawn time, when the muffled crowing begins +to sound from the village barns and the dogs crawl forth from their +barrels and survey the deserted street and yawn. Tip was not usually +abroad so early, but in his travelling bandanna and solemn face, as he +leaned on his elbows and smoked and smoked, I saw his reason for +getting out with the sun. He was taking flight. The annual Pulsifer +tragedy had occurred; the head of the house had tied together his few +goods, and, vowing never to trouble his wife again, had set his face +toward the mountain. But on my part I had every reason to believe that +Tip would show surprise when I hobbled forth from the misty gloom. + +[Illustration: Tip Pulsifer leaned on my gate.] + +Just a few minutes before I had awakened. I had lifted my head from my +desk, half-dazed, and gazed around the school-room. I had rubbed my +eyes to drive away the veils that hid my scholars from me. I had +pounded the floor with a crutch and cried: "It's books." The silence +answered me. I had not been napping in school, nor was I dreaming. +The long, miserable night flashed back to me, and I stamped into the +misty morning. Weary and dishevelled, I was crawling home, purposeless +as ever, now vowing I would break with my brother, now quickening my +steps that I might sooner wish him all the joy a brother should. A few +dogs greeted me and then Tip, calmly smoking as though it were my usual +time to be about of a morning. + +"You are going over the mountain, Tip?" said I. + +"Yes," he answered, throwing open the gate. "This is the last Six +Stars will see of me. I'm done. The missus was a-yammerin' and +a-yammerin' all day yesterday. If it wasn't this, it was that she was +yammerin' about. Says I, 'I'm done. I'm sorry,' says I, 'but I'm +done.' At the first peek of day I starts over the mountain. This is +as fur as I've got. You've kep' me waitin'." + +"Me--I've kept you waiting?" I cried. "Do you think I'm going over the +mountain, too?" + +"No," said Tip, with a grim chuckle. "You ain't married. You've +nothin' to run from, 'less you've been yammerin' at yourself; then the +mountain won't do you no good. I didn't figure on your company, but +Tim kep' me." + +"Is Tim out at this hour?" I asked. + +"At this hour?" Tip retorted. "You'll have to get up earlier to catch +him. He's gone--up and gone--he is." + +I sat down very abruptly on the door-step. "Tim gone?" I said. + +"Gone--and he told me to wait and say good-by to you--to tell you he'd +set late last night for you, till he fell asleep. He was sleepin' when +I come, Mark. I peeped in the window and there he was, in that chair +of yours, fast asleep. I rapped on the window and he woke up with a +jump. He was off on the early train, he said, and had just time to +cover the twelve mile with that three-legged livery horse that brought +him out. He was awful put out at not findin' you. He thought you was +in bed, but you wasn't, and I told him mebbe you'd gone up to the +Warden's to lend a hand with Weston." + +For the first time Tip eyed me inquisitively. + +"I was up the road," I said evasively. "But tell me about Tim--did he +leave no word?" + +"He left me," said Tip, grinning. "He hadn't time to leave nothin' +else. We figgered he'd just cover that twelve mile and make the train. +That's why I'm here. As we was hitchin' he told me particular to wait +till you come; to tell you good-by; to tell you he'd watched all +night--waited and waited till he fell asleep." + +"And overslept in the morning so he had no time to drop me even a +line--I understand," said I. "And now, Tip, having performed your +duty, you are going over the mountain?" + +"To Happy Walley," Tip cried, lifting the stick he always carried in +these nights and pointing away toward Thunder Knob. "I'm done with +Black Log. I'm goin' where there is peace and quiet." + +"You lead the life of a hermit?" I suggested. + +"A what?" Tip exclaimed. + +"You live in a cave in the woods and eat roots and nuts and meditate," +I explained. + +"You think I'm a squirrel," snapped the fugitive. "No, sir, I live +with my cousin John Shadrack's widder." + +"Ah!" I cried. "It's plain now, Tip, you deceiver. So there's the +attraction." + +"The attraction?" Tip's brow was furrowed. + +"Mrs. John Shadrack," I said. + +The fugitive broke into a loud guffaw. He leaned over the gate and let +his pipe fall on the other side and beat the post violently with his +hands. + +"I allow you've never seen John Shadrack's widder," said he. + +"I'd like to, Tip. Will you take me with you to Happy Valley?" + +The smile left Tip's face, and he gazed at me, open-mouthed with +astonishment. + +"You would go over the mountain?" he said, drawling every word. + +Over the mountain there is peace! It is cold and gray there in the +early morning, and the hills are bleak and black, but I remember days +when from this same spot I've watched the deep, soft blue and green; +I've sat here as the hills were glowing in the changing evening lights +and our valley grew dark and cold. What a fair country that must be +where the sun sets! And we stay here in our dim light, in our dull +monotones, when, to the westward, there's a land all capped with clouds +of red and gold. There is Tip's Valley of Peace. John Shadrack's +widow may not be a celestial being, but that is my sunset country. In +journeying to it, I shall leave myself behind; in the joy of the road, +in the changing landscape and skyscape, in the swing of the buggy and +the rattle of the wheels, I shall forget myself and Mary and Tim for a +time, and when I come back it will be with wound unhealed, but the +throbbing pain will have passed, and I can face them with eyes clear +and speech unfaltering. + +"I'll go with you to Happy Valley, Tip," I said, rising and turning to +the door. "You hitch the gray colt in the buggy and----" + +"We are goin' to ride," cried Tip. He had always made his flights +afoot before that, and the prospect of an easy journey caused him to +smile. + +"Do you think I'll walk?" I growled. "Get the gray colt and I'll give +you a lift over the mountain, but I'll bring you back on Monday, too." +Tip shook his head sullenly at this threat. "While you hitch, I'll +drop a line to Perry Thomas to take the school. Now hurry." + +Tip shuffled away to the barn, and I went into the house, and, after +making a hasty breakfast and getting together a few clothes, sat down +at the table, where Tim had rested his drowsy head all night. I wrote +two notes. One was to Perry and was very brief. The other was brief, +but it was to Mary. When I took up the pen it was to tell her all I +knew and felt. When at last I sealed the envelope it was on a single +sheet of paper, bearing a few formal words, while the scuttle by the +fireplace held all my fine sentiments in the torn slips of paper I had +tossed there. I told Mary that I knew that she did not care for me and +had found herself out. If it was her wish, we would begin again where +we were that night when I saw her first, and I would guide myself into +the future all alone, half happy anyway in the knowledge that it was +best for her and best for Tim. Was I wrong, a single word would bring +me back. I was to be away for three days, and when I returned I should +look by the door-sill for her answer. If none was there, it was all I +had a right to expect. If one was there--I quit writing then--it +seemed so hopeless. + + * * * * * * + +Tip and I crossed Thunder Knob at noon. As we turned the crest of the +hill and began the descent into the wooded gut, my companion looked +back and waved his hand. + +"Good-by to Black Log," he cried. "It's the last I'll ever see of you." + +He turned to me and tried to smile, but a deep-set frown took +possession of his face, and he hung his head in silence, watching the +wheels as we jolted on and on. + +We wound down the steep way into the gut, following a road that at +times seemed to disappear altogether, and leave us to break our way +through the underbrush. Then it reappeared in a broken corduroy that +bridged a bog for a mile, and lifted itself plainly into view again +with a stony back where we began to climb the second mountain. The sun +was ahead of us when we reached the crest of that long hill. Behind +us, Thunder Knob lifted its rocky head, hiding from us the valley of +our troubles. Before us, miles away, all capped with clouds of gold +and red was the sunset country, but still beyond the mountains. The +gray colt halted to catch his breath, and with the whip I pointed to +the west, glowing with the warm evening fires. + +"Yonder's Happy Valley, Tip," I said, "miles away still. It will take +us another day to reach it." + +"It will take you forever to reach it," was the half-growled retort. +"I ain't chasin' sunsets. Here's Happy Walley--my Happy Walley, right +below us, and the smoke you see curlin' up th'oo the trees is from the +John Shadrack clearin'." + +A great wall, hardly a mile away, as the crow flies, the third mountain +rose, bare and forbidding. Below us, a narrow strip of evergreen wound +away to the south as far as our eyes could reach, and at wide intervals +thin columns of smoke sifting through the trees marked the abodes of +the dwellers of Tip's Elysium. Peace must be there, if peace dwells in +a land where all that breaks the stillness seems the drifting of the +smoke through the pine boughs. The mountain's shadow was over it and +deepening fast, warning us to hurry before the road was lost in +blackness. But away off there in the west, where a half score of peaks +lifted their summits above the nearer ranges, all purple and gold and +red, a heap of cloud coals glowed warm and beautiful over the sunset +land. My heart yearned for that land, but I had to turn from the +contemplation of its distant joys to the cold, gloomy reality below me. + +The whip fell sharply across the gray colt's back, and he jumped ahead. +Down the steep slope, over rocks and ruts we clattered, the buggy +swinging to and fro, and Tip holding fast with both hands, muttering +warnings. The gray colt broke into a run. All my strength failed to +check him. Faster and faster we went, and now Tip was swearing. I +prayed for a level stretch or a bit of a hill, for the wagon had run +away too, and where the wagon and the horse join in a mad flight there +must come a sudden ending to their career. The mountain-road offered +me no hope. Steeper and steeper it was as we dashed on. Tip became +very quiet. Once I glanced from the fleeing horse to him, and I saw +that his face was white and set. + +"Get out, Tip," I cried. "Jump back, over the seat." + +"Not me," said he, grimly. "We come to Happy Walley together, me and +you, and together we'll finish the trip." + +He lent a hand on the reins, but it was useless, for the wagon and the +horse were running away together, and there was nothing to do but to +try to guide them. + +"Pull closer to the bank at the bend ahead," Tip cried. + +Almost before the warning passed his lips we had shot around the +projecting rock, where the road had been cut from the mountain-side. +We were near our journey's end then, for at the foot of the embankment +that sheered down at our left we heard the swish of a mountain-stream. +The horse went down. There was a cry from Tip--a sound of splintering +wood--something seemed to strike me a brutal blow. Then I lay back, +careless, fearless, and was rocked to sleep. + +[Illustration: The horse went down.] + + + + +XVIII + +She sat smoking. + +Had I never heard of her before, had I opened my eyes as I did that day +to see her sitting before me, I should have exclaimed, "It's John +Shadrack's widder!" + +So, with the crayon portrait, gilt-framed, that hung on the wall behind +her, I should have cried, "And that is John Shadrack!" + +This crayon "enlargement" presented John with very black skin and +spotless white hair. His head was tilted back in a manner that made +the great bushy beard seem to stick right out from the frame, and gave +the impression that the old man was choking down a fit of uproarious +laughter. I knew, of course, that he had been posed that way to better +show his collar and cravat. Though Tip had described him to me as a +rather gloomy, taciturn person, the impression gained in the long +contemplation of his picture as I lay helpless on the bed never +changed. To me he was the ideal citizen of Happy Valley, and the +acquaintance I formed then and there with his wife served only to +endear him to me. + +She sat smoking. I contemplated her a very long while and she gazed +calmly back. A score of times I tried to speak, but something failed +me, and when I attempted to wave my hand in greeting to her I could not +lift it from the bed. + +At last strength came. + +"This is John Shadrack's house?" I said. + +"Yes," said she, "and I'm his widder." + +[Illustration: "And I'm his widder."] + +She came to my side and stood looking down at me very hard. I saw a +woman in the indefinable seasons past fifty. In my vague mental +condition, the impression of her came slowly. First it was as though I +saw three cubes, one above the other, the largest in the middle. Then +these took on clothing, blue calico with large polka dots, and the +topmost one crowned itself with thin wisps of hair, parted in the +middle and plastered down at the side. So, little by little, John +Shadrack's widow grew on me, till I saw her a square little old woman, +with a wrinkled, brown face, a perpetual smile and a pipe that snuffled +in a homely, comfortable way. + +I smiled. You couldn't help smiling when Mrs. John Shadrack looked +down at you. + +"It's been such a treat to have you," she cried. "I've been enjoyin' +every minute of your visit." + +This was puzzling. How long Mrs. John Shadrack had been entertaining +me, or I had been entertaining her, I had not the remotest idea. A +very long while ago I had seen a spire of smoke curling through the +trees in Happy Valley, and I had been told that it was from her hearth. +Then we had gone plunging madly down the hill to it, Tip, the gray colt +and I. We had turned a sharp bend, we had heard the swish of a +mountain-stream. There my memory failed me. I had awakened to find +myself helpless on a bed, strangely hard, but, oh, so restful! Then +she had appeared, sitting there smoking. + +"You are the first stranger as has been here since the tax collector +last month," she said, beginning to clear away the mystery. "I love +strangers." + +"How long have I been here?" I asked. + +"Since last Wednesday," she answered. + +"And this is what?" + +"The next Saturday. I've had you three days. You was a bit wrong here +sometimes." She tapped her head solemnly. "But I powwowed." + +"You powwowed me," I cried with all the spirit I could muster, for such +treatment was not to my liking. I never had any faith in charms. + +"Of course," she replied. "Does you think I'd let you die? Why, when +me and Tip pulled you out of the creek you was a sight, you was, and +you was wrong here." Again she tapped her head. "You needn't +complain. Ain't you gittin' well agin? Didn't the powwow do it?" + +Hardly, I thought. I must have recovered in spite of it. But the old +woman spoke with pride of her skill, and if she had not saved me by her +occult powers, she had at least helped to drag me from the creek. For +that I was grateful, so I smiled to show my thanks. + +"What did you powwow for?" I asked, after a long while. + +She had seated herself on the edge of the bed and was contemplating me +gravely. + +"Everything," she answered. "I never had a case like yours. I never +had a patient who was run away with, and kicked on the head, and +drownded. So I says to Tip, I says, 'I'll do everything. I'll treat +for asthmy, erysipelas and pneumony, rheumatism and snake-bite, for the +yallers and----'" + +"Hold on," I pleaded. "I haven't had all that." + +"You mought have had any one of 'em," she said firmly. "You should 'a' +seen yourself when we found you down there in the creek. Can't you +feel that bandage?" She lifted my hand to my head gently. I seemed to +have a great turban crowning me. "That's where you was kicked," she +went on. "You otter 'a' seen that spot. I used my Modern Miracle +Salve there. It's worked wonderful, it has. I was sorry you had no +bones broken so I could 'a' tried it for them, too." + +"I'm satisfied with what I have," said I quietly. "It was pretty lucky +I got off as well as I did after a runaway, and the creek and the +kick." Then, to myself, I added, "And the powwowing and the salve." + +I tried to lift my head, but could not. At first I thought it was the +turban, but a sharp pain told me that there was a spot there that might +be well worth seeing. For a long time I lay with my eyes closed, +trying not to care, and when I opened them again, John Shadrack's widow +was still on the edge of the bed, smoking. + +"Feel better now?" she asked calmly. + +"Yes," I answered. "The ache has gone some." + +"I was powwowin' agin!" she said. "Couldn't you hear me saying Dutch +words? Them was the charm." + +"I guess I was sleeping," I returned a bit irritably. + +How the store would have smiled could it have seen me there on the bed, +in that bare little room in John Shadrack's widow's clutches! Many a +night, around the stove, Isaac Bolum, and Henry Holmes and I had had it +tooth and nail over the power of the powwow. In the store there was +not always an outspoken belief in the efficacy of the charm, but there +was an undercurrent of sentiment in favor of the supernatural. Against +this I had fought. Perhaps it was merely for the joy of the argument +that so often I had turned a fire of ridicule on the dearest traditions +of the valley. Time and again, when some credulous one had lifted his +voice in honest support of a silly superstition, I had jeered him into +a grumbled, shamefaced disavowal. Once I sat in the graveyard at +midnight, in the full of the moon, just to convince Ira Spoonholler +that his grandfather was keeping close to his proper plot. And here I +was, prone and helpless, being powwowed not for one ailment, but for +all the diseases known in Happy Valley. How I blessed Tip! When we +started he should have told me of the powers of our hostess. I would +rather have undergone a hundred runaways than one week with that old +woman muttering her Dutch over my senseless form. But I liked the good +soul. Her intentions were so excellent. She was so cheery. Even now +she was offering me a piece of gingerbread. + +I ate it ravenously. + +Then I asked, "Where is Tip?" + +"He's gone down the walley to my brother-in-law, Harmon Shadrack's. +He's tryin' to borry a me-yule." + +"A what?" + +"A me-yule. The colt was dead beside you in the creek. Him and me +fixed up the buggy agin, and he's gone to borry Harmon's me-yule so as +you uns can git back to Black Log." + +"Tip's left Black Log forever," I said firmly. + +Then John Shadrack's widow laughed. She laughed so hard that she blew +the ashes out of her pipe, and they showered down over my face, and +made me wink and sputter. + +"There--there," she said solicitously, dusting them away with her hand. +"But it tickled me so to hear you say Tip wasn't goin' back. Why, he's +been most crazy since you come. He's afraid his wife'll marry agin +before he gits home. I've been tellin' him how nice it was to have you +both, and that jest makes him roar. He's never been away so long +before." + +"He thinks maybe Nanny will give him up this time?" + +"Exact." + +The old woman smoked in silence a long while. Then she said suddenly, +"She must be a lovely woman." + +"Who?" I asked. + +"Tip's wife." + +"Who told you?" I demanded. + +"Tip." + +This was strange in a fugitive husband, one who had fled across the +mountains to escape a perpetual yammering. + +"Tip!" I said. + +"Yes, Tip," she answered. "Him and me was settin' there in the kitchen +last night, and you was sleepin' away in here, and he told me all about +Black Log. It must be a lovely place--Black Log--so different from +Happy Walley. There's no folks here, that's the trouble. There's +Harmonses a mile down the walley, and below him there's the Spinks a +mile, and up the walley across the run there's my brother, Joe Smith, +and his family--but we don't often have strangers here. The tax +collector, he was up last month, and then you come. You have been a +treat. I ain't enjoyed anything so much for a long time. There's +nothin' like company." + +"Even when it can't talk?" I said. + +"But I could powwow," she answered cheerily. "Between fixin' up the +buggy, and cookin' and makin' you and Tip comfortable and powwowin' +you, I ain't had a minute's time to think--it's lovely." + +"What has Tip been doing all this while?" + +"Talkin' about his wife. She _must_ be nice. Did you ever hear her +sing?" + +"I should say I had," I answered. + +The whining strains of "Jordan's Strand" came wandering out of the +past, out of the kitchen, joining with the sizzle of the cooking and +the clatter of the pans. + +"I should say I had," I said again. + +"She must be a splendid singer," John Shadrack's widow exclaimed with +much enthusiasm. "Tip says she has one of the best tenor voices they +is. He says sometimes he can hear her clean from his clearin' down to +your barn." + +"Farther," said I. "All the way to the school-house." + +"Indeed! Now that's nice. I allow she must be very handsome." + +"Handsome?" said I, a bit incredulous. + +"Why, Tip says she's the best-lookin' woman in the walley, and that +she's a terrible tasty dresser." + +"Terrible," I muttered. + +"Indeed! Now that's nice. And is she spare or fleshy?" + +"Medium," I said. "Just right." + +"That's nice. But what'll she run to? It makes a heap of difference +to a woman what she runs to. Now I naterally take on." + +"I should say Nanny Pulsifer would naturally lose weight," I answered. + +"That's nice. It's so much better to run to that--it's easier gittin' +around. Tip says she has a be-yutiful figger. There's nothin' like +figger. If there's anythin' I hate to see it's a first-class gingham +fittin' a woman like it was hung there to air. But about Tip's wife +agin--she must have a lovely disposition?" + +"Splendid," I said. + +"That's what Tip says. He told me that oncet in a while when he was +kind of low-down she'd git het-up and spited like, but ordinarily, he +says, she's jest a-singin' and a-singin' and makin' him comf'table and +helpin' the children. And them children! I'm jest longin' to see 'em. +They must be lovely." + +"From what Tip says," I interjected. + +"From what Tip says," she went on. "He was tellin' me about Earl and +Alice Eliza, and Pearl and Cevery and the rest of 'em. He says it's +jest a pickter to see 'em all in bed together--a perfect pickter." + +"A perfect picture," said I sleepily. + +"Tip must have a lovely home. Why, he tells me they have a +sewin'-machine." + +"Lovely," said I. "And a spring-bed." + +"And a double-heater stove," said she. + +"And an accordion," said I. + +"And a washin'-machine," said she. + +"And two hogs." + +"And he tells me he's going to git her a melodium." + +"Indeed," said I. "Why, I thought he was never going back." + +"To sech a lovely home?" The old woman held up her hands. "He's goin' +jest as soon as he gets that me-yule and you're able." She laid her +hand on my forehead. "There," she cried, "it's painin' you again, poor +thing--that terrible spot." + +It was hurting, despite the Modern Miracle, and I closed my eyes to +bear it better. Over me, away off, as if from the heavens, I heard a +sonorous rumble of mystery words. I felt a hand softly stroking my +brow. But I didn't care. It was only Dutch, a foolish charm, a +heritage of barbarity and ignorance, but I was too weary to protest. +It entertained John Shadrack's widow, and I was going to sleep. + +Tip was waiting for me to awake. + +"I've got the mule," he said, when I opened my eyes, "and I thought you +was never goin' to quit sleepin'; I thought the widder was joshin' me +when she said you was all right; I thought mebbe she had drumpt it, she +sees so much in dreams." + +"What day is this?" I asked. + +"Sunday," Tip answered. "I 'low we'll start at daybreak to-morrow, and +by sundown we'll be in Six Stars." + +"In Six Stars!" said I. "I thought you'd left Six Stars forever." + +"That ain't here nor there," he snapped. "I've got to git you back." + +"Then you won't go to-morrow," said I. "Look here--I can just lift my +hands to my head--that's all. It'll take a whole week's powwowing to +get me to sit up even." + +"What did I tell you, Tip?" cried John Shadrack's widow. She handed me +a piece of gingerbread just to chew on till she got some breakfast for +me, and while I munched it, Tip and I argued it out. + +"Nanny'll think I've left her," Tip said. + +"You did, Tip," said I. "You ran away forever." + +"She'll be gittin' married agin," pleaded Tip. + +"Serves you right," said I. Then, to myself, "Not unless the other +man's an utter stranger." + +"She hasn't enough wood chopped to last a week," said Tip. + +"She chopped the last wood-pile herself," said I. + +"There's Cevery," pleaded Tip. "Cevery never done me no harm, and +who'll dandle him?" + +"The same good soul that dandled him the day you rode over the +mountain," I answered. + +"But it's a good half mile from our house to the spring," Tip said, +"and who'll carry the water?" + +"Earl and Pearl and Alice Eliza," I replied. "They've always done it; +why worry now?" + +"Well, I don't care nohow," Tip cried, stamping the floor. "I want to +go back to Black Log." + +"So do I, Tip," I said; "but--there's that bad spot on my head again." + +"Now see what you've done with your argyin', Tip Pulsifer," cried the +old woman, running to me. "Poor thing--ain't the Miracle workin'?" + +"I guess it is, but that's an awful bad spot--that's right, Widow, +powwow it." + + * * * * * * + +For ten long days more Mrs. Tip Pulsifer chopped her own wood, Cevery +went undandled, and Earl and Pearl and Alice Eliza carried the water +that half mile from the spring. For nine long days more John +Shadrack's widow entertained the two strangers who had sought a refuge +in Happy Valley, and found it. Rare pleasure did John Shadrack's widow +have from our visit. There seemed no way she could repay us. It did +her old heart good to have someone to whom she could recount the +manifold virtues of her John--and a wonderful man John was, I judge. +Had I not come, she might have lost the Heaven-given gift of powwowing, +for there is no sickness in Happy Valley--the people die without it. +It was a pleasure to have Mark settin' around the kitchen; it was +elevatin' to hear Tip tell of his home and his wife and children; and +as for cooking, it was no pleasure to cook for just one. + +"You must come agin," she cried, on the morning of that ninth day, as +she stood in the doorway of her little log-house and waved her apron at +us. "It's been a treat to have you." + +So we went away, Tip and I, with Harmon Shadrack's mule and the +battered buggy. Our backs were turned to the Sunset Land. Our faces +were toward the East and the red glow of the early morning. When we +saw Thunder Knob again, Happy Valley was far below us, and only the +thin spire of smoke drifting through the pines marked the Shadrack +clearing. I kissed my hand in farewell salute to it. Perhaps John's +widow saw me--she sees so much in her dreams. + +"There's no place like Black Log," said Tip, as we turned the crest of +Thunder Knob. "Mind how pretty it is--mind the shadders on the ridge +yon--and them white barns. Mind the big creek--there by the kivered +bridge--ain't it gleamin' cheerful? There's no place like our walley." + + + + +XIX + +It was dark when I reached home. Opening the door, I groped my way +across the room till I found the lamp and lighted it. Then I sat down +a minute to think. Two weeks is a very short time, but when you have +been over the mountains and back, when you have hovered for days close +to the banks of the Styx, when you have huddled for days close to the +Shadrack stove, listening to the widow's stories of her John and Tip's +praise of his wife, then a fortnight seems an age. But everything was +as I had left it. Even the pen leaned against the inkwell and the +scraps of paper littered the floor where I had tossed them that +morning, when Tip and I started over the mountain. Those scraps were +part of the letter I did not send to Mary. They flashed to me the +thought of the one I had sent, and of the answer I never expected. It +was foolish to look, but I had told her to slip her note under the +door, if she did send it, and I was taking no chances. Seizing the +lamp, I hobbled to the kitchen, and laughing to myself at the whole +absurd proceeding, leaned over and swept the floor with the light. + +Right on the sill it lay, a small white envelope! I did not waste time +hobbling back to my chair and the table. I sat right down on the floor +with the lamp at my side, and tore open the note and read it. + +"Dear Mark. Please come to me." + +That was all she said. It was enough. It was all I wanted in the +world. + +Once I had been disappointed, but now there was no mistaking it. +Upside down, backward and forward I read it, right side up and +criss-cross, rubbing my eyes a half a hundred times, but there was her +appeal--no question of it. After all, all was well. And when Mary +calls I must go, even if I have crossed two mountains and am +supperless. All the bitterness had gone. All those days of brooding +were forgotten, for I could go again up the road, my white road, to the +hill, and the light there would burn for me. + +Then Tim came! + +[Illustration: Then Tim came.] + +I was still sitting on the floor when he came, reading the note over +and over, with the lamp beside me. + +With Captain and Colonel at his heels he burst in upon me. + +"Well, Mark, you scoundrel," he cried, laughing, as he caught me by the +arm and lifted me up. "Where have you been?" + +"Travelling," I answered grimly. "And you--what are you doing here?" + +"I came to find you," he said. "Do you suppose you can disappear off +the face of the earth for two weeks and that I will not be worried? +Why, I came from New York to hunt you up--just got here this afternoon +and was over at Bolum's when we saw the light. Now give an account of +yourself." + +"It isn't necessary," said I, smiling complacently. I put the lamp on +the table and picked up my hat. "I'll be back in a while," I said. +"I'm going up to see Mary." + +"To see Mary?" Tim cried. + +"Yes, to see Mary," I answered. + +Then, with a little flourish of triumph, I handed him her note. + +Tim read it. His face became very grave, and he looked from it to me, +and then turned and, with an elbow resting on the mantel, stood gazing +down into the empty fireplace. + +"Well?" I exclaimed, angered by his mood. + +"This is two weeks old, Mark," he said, handing me the paper. + +"What of it?" I cried querulously, putting on my hat and moving to the +door. + +My hand was on the knob turning it, when Tim said, "Mary has left the +valley." + +It did not bother me much when he said that. I was getting so used to +being knocked about that a blow or two more made little difference. +The knob was not turned though. It shot back with a click, and I +leaned against the door, staring at my brother. + +"And when did she go?" I asked. "And where--back to Kansas?" + +"To New York," Tim answered, "and with Weston--she has married Weston." + +I was glad the door was there, for that trip over the mountain, with +the creek, and the powwowing and all that, had left me still a little +wobbly. Tim's announcement was not adding to my spirit. Long I gazed +at his quiet face; and I knew well enough that he was speaking the +truth. And, perhaps, after all, the truth was best. It was all over, +anyway, and we were just where we started before she came to the valley. + +I was just where I was before I found that note lying on the door-sill. +I had been foolish, sitting there on the floor reading that message of +hers that she had belied. But that was only for a minute, and I would +never be foolish again. Trust me for that. + +"She has married Weston," I said. "Well, the little flirt!" + +Tim got down on the hearth and began piling paper and kindling and logs +in the fireplace. He started the blaze, and when it was going cheerily +he looked up to find me in my old chair by the table, with Captain +beside me, his head on my knee as I stroked it. + +"The little flirt!" I said again, bound that he should hear me. + +He heard. He took his old chair, and resting his elbows on the table, +resting his chin in his hands, a favorite attitude of his, he sat there +eying me quietly. + +"The little what, Mark?" he said at last. + +"Flirt," I snapped. + +It was simply a braggart's way. I knew it. Tim knew it, too. He +seemed to look right through me. I was angry with him, I was jealous +of him, because she had cared for him. I knew she had. I knew why she +had. Tim and I were far apart. But he had made the breach. All the +wrong wrought was his, and yet he sat there, calmly eying me, as though +he were a righteous judge and I the culprit. + +"Why did you say flirt?" he asked quietly. + +"She promised to marry me," I said. + +"Yes." + +"She loved you, Tim." + +"Yes--and how did you know it?" + +"Perry Thomas saw you that night when you went to stay a minute." + +The color left Tim's face and he leaned back in his chair, away from +the light into the shadow, and whistled softly. + +"You knew it, then," he said, after a long while. "I didn't intend you +should, Mark. I didn't intend you ever should." + +"Naturally," said I in an icy tone. + +"Naturally," said he. His face came into the light again, and he +leaned there on the table, watching me as earnestly as ever. + +"Naturally," he said again. "I was going away, Mark, never to bother +you nor her. Did I know then that you loved her? Had you ever told +me? Was I to blame for that moment when I knew I loved the girl and +that she loved me?" + +"No. I never told you--that's true," I said. + +"And yet I knew you cared for her, Mark. I could see that. I saw it +all those nights when you would leave me to go plodding up the hill. +That's why I went away." + +"Why did you go away?" I cried. "You went to see the world and make +money----" + +"I went because I loved the girl and you did, too," said Tim. And +looking into those quiet eyes, I knew that he spoke the truth and I had +been blind all this time. "Weston knew it," he went on. "He saw it +from the first. That's why he helped me." + +"You are not at all an egotist," I sneered, trying to bear up against +him. + +"Entirely so," he said calmly. "I even thought that I might win, Mark. +But then I had so much and you so little chance, I went away to forget. +Weston knew that. He knew, too, that there was no Edith Parker." + +"And what has Edith Parker to do with all this?" I asked more gently, +for he was breaking down my barriers. + +"She might have done much for you had I not come back when Weston was +shot. Couldn't you see, Mark, how angry Mary was with me for +forgetting her? But Weston knew it. And that night--that minute--I +only wanted to explain to Mary, and she saw it all, Mark, and I saw it +all--and we forgot. Then she told me of you." + +"She told you rather late," said I. + +"But she would have kept her promise. Couldn't you forgive her, Mark, +for that one moment of forgetting? It was just one moment, and I left +her then forever. We thought you'd never know." + +"And thinking that, you came whistling down the road that night," I +sneered. "You came whistling like a man mightily pleased with his +conquest--or, perhaps you sang so gayly from sheer joy in your own +goodness. It seems to me at times like that a man would----" + +"A man would whistle a bit for courage," Tim interrupted. "Couldn't he +do that, Mark? Couldn't he go away with his head up and face set, or +must he totter along and wail simply because he is doing a fair thing +that any man would do?" + +"Why, in Heaven's name, couldn't you keep her for yourself?" I cried, +pounding the floor with my crutch. + +Then, in my anger I arose and went stamping up and down the room, while +Tim sat there staring at me blankly. At last I halted by the fireplace +and stood there looking down at him very hard. I looked right into his +heart and read it. He winced and turned his face from me. I was the +righteous judge now and he the culprit. + +"You left her, Tim," I said hotly. "You might have known the girl +could never marry me after that minute. You might have known she was +not the girl to deceive me--she would have told me; and then, Tim, do +you think that I would have kept her to her promise? Why didn't you +come to me and tell me?" + +"For your sake, Mark, I didn't," Tim answered, looking up. + +"And for my sake you left the girl there--you turned your back on her +and went away. Then in her perplexity she looked to me again, and I +had gone. I didn't know. I went away for her sake, and when she sent +for me I had forsaken her, too. That's a shabby way to treat a woman. +Do you wonder she turned to Weston?" + +"No," Tim said, "for Weston is a man of men, he is--and he cared for +her--that's why he stayed in the valley." + +"I knew that," said I, "for I saw it that day when he went away from me +to the charcoal clearing." + +"Then think of the lonely girl up there on the hill, Mark," Tim said. +He joined me at the fireplace, and we stood side by side, as often we +had stood in the old days, warming our hands, and watching the +crackling flames. "Do you blame her? I had gone, vowing never to come +back again till she kept her promise to you; you had fled from her--she +wrote, and no word came. And Weston is a wise man and a kind man, and +when she turned to him she found comfort. Do you blame her?" + +"No," I said, half hesitating. + +"After all, it's better, too," Tim went on. "What could you have given +her, Mark--or I, compared to what his wealth means to a woman like +Mary?" + +Wealth was not happiness. Money was not peace. Etches were a +delusion. Now she had them. That was what Weston would give her, and +I wished her joy. True, he loved the girl. True, he offered her just +what I did, and with it he gave those fleeting joys that wealth brings. +She should be happy--just as much so as if she had made herself a +fellow-prisoner with me here in the little valley. For what had I to +offer her? The love of a crippled veteran; the wealth of a petty +farmer; the companionship of a crotchety pedagogue. What joy it would +give her ambitious soul as the years went on to watch her husband +develop; to see him growing in the learning of the store; to have him +ranking first among the worthies of the bench; to greet him as he +hobbled home at night after a busy day at nothing! It was better as it +was--aye--a thousand times. + +But there was Tim. What a man Tim was, and how blind I had been and +selfish! He stood before me tall and strong, watching me with his +quiet eyes, and as I looked at him I thought of Weston, the lanky +cynic, with his thin, homely face and loose-jointed, shambling walk. +Then I wondered at it all. Then I said to myself, "Is it best?" + +"What makes you so quiet, Mark?" asked Tim. + +"I was wishing, Tim," I answered, laying a hand on each of his broad +shoulders, "I was wishing you had kept her when you had her." + +Tim laughed. It was his clear, honest laugh. + +"It is best as it is," he said. "It's best for her and best for us, +for she'll be happy. But supposing one of us had won--would it have +been the same--the same as it was before she came--the same as it is +now?" + +"No," I answered. + +"No," he cried. "Now for supper--then our pipes--all of us +together--you in your chair and I in mine--and Captain and +Colonel--just as it used to be." + + + + +XX + +Tim has gone back to the city after his first long vacation and here I +am alone again. He wants me to be with him and live down there in a +brick and mortar gulch where the sun rises from a maze of tall chimneys +and sets on oil refineries. I said no. Some day I may, but that day +is a long way off. In the fall I am to go for a week and we are to +have a fine time, Tim and I, but Captain and Colonel will have to be +content to hear about it when I get back. Surely it will give us much +to talk of in the winter nights, when we three sit by the fire +again--Captain and Colonel and I. + +[Illustration: Old Captain.] + +Tim says it is lonely for me here. Lonely? Pshaw! I know the ways of +the valley, and there is not a lonely spot in it from the bald top of +Thunder Knob to the tall pine on the Gander's head. I would have Tim +stay here with me, but he says no. He wants to win a marble mausoleum. +I shall be content to lie beneath a tree. Tim is ambitious. + +Just a few nights ago, we sat smoking in the evening, warming our +hearts at the great hearth-stone. Thunder Knob was all aglow, and the +cloud coals were piled heaven-high above it, burning gold and red. +Down in the meadow Captain and Colonel raced from shock to shock on the +trail of a rabbit, and a flock of sheep, barnward bound, came bleating +along the road. + +[Illustration: When we three sit by the fire.] + +Tim began to suppose. He was supposing me a great lawyer and himself a +great merchant and all that. I lost all patience with him. + +Suppose it all, Tim, I said. Suppose that you, the great tea-king, and +I, the statesman, sat here smoking. Would the cloud coals over there +on Thunder Knob blaze up higher in our honor? And the quail, perched +on the fence-stake, would she address herself to us or to Mr. Robert +White down in the meadow? Would the night-hawk, circling in the +clouds, strike one note to our glory? Could the bleating of the sheep +swing in sweeter to the music of the valley as she is rocked to sleep? + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY*** + + +******* This file should be named 17156.txt or 17156.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/1/5/17156 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/17156.zip b/17156.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..26b53ff --- /dev/null +++ b/17156.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c13e32 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #17156 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17156) |
