diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:54:56 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:54:56 -0700 |
| commit | d90407c731279224cb76692beb13238248aa796b (patch) | |
| tree | 8e2e73599cd551f95b2bb88922e924a4169d6886 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19107-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 210432 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19107-h/19107-h.htm | 8081 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19107-h/images/frontis.jpg | bin | 0 -> 55613 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19107.txt | 7977 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19107.zip | bin | 0 -> 146244 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
8 files changed, 16074 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/19107-h.zip b/19107-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8ad695 --- /dev/null +++ b/19107-h.zip diff --git a/19107-h/19107-h.htm b/19107-h/19107-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc1f84d --- /dev/null +++ b/19107-h/19107-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8081 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Arkansas Planter, by Opie Read. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Arkansas Planter, by Opie Percival Read + +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: An Arkansas Planter + +Author: Opie Percival Read + +Release Date: August 23, 2006 [EBook #19107] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ARKANSAS PLANTER *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia, Stacy Brown and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="400" height="553" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h1><span class="smcap">An Arkansas Planter</span></h1> + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 3em;"><b>BY</b></p> + +<h2>OPIE READ,</h2> + +<p class="center"><b>AUTHOR OF<br /> +<span class="smcap">"A Yankee from the West," "The Waters of Caney Fork," "Mrs. Annie +Green," "Up Terrapin River."</span></b></p> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 3em;"> +CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:<br /> +RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY,<br /> +PUBLISHERS.<br /></h4> + + + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p style="font-size: 90%;" class="center"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI_CONCLUSION">CHAPTER XXVI.—CONCLUSION.</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="AN_ARKANSAS_PLANTER" id="AN_ARKANSAS_PLANTER"></a>AN ARKANSAS PLANTER.</h2> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p>Lying along the Arkansas River, a few miles below Little Rock, there is +a broad strip of country that was once the domain of a lordly race of +men. They were not lordly in the sense of conquest; no rusting armor +hung upon their walls; no ancient blood-stains blotched their +stairways—there were no skeletons in dungeons deep beneath the banquet +hall. But in their own opinion they were just as great as if they had +possessed these gracious marks of medieval distinction. Their country +was comparatively new, but their fathers came mostly from Virginia and +their whisky came wholly from Kentucky. Their cotton brought a high +price in the Liverpool market, their daughters were celebrated for +beauty, and their sons could hold their own with the poker players that +traveled up and down the Mississippi River. The slave trade had been +abolished, and, therefore, what remained of slavery was right; and in +proof of it the pulpit contributed its argument. Negro preachers with +wives scattered throughout the community urged their fellow bondsmen to +drop upon their knees<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> and thank God for the privilege of following a +mule in a Christian land. The merciless work of driving the negroes to +their tasks was performed by men from the North. Many a son of New +England, who, with emotion, had listened to Phillips and to Garrison, +had afterward hired his harsh energies to the slave owner. And it was +this hard driving that taught the negro vaguely to despise the +abolitionist. But as a class the slaves were not unhappy. They were +ignorant, but the happiest song is sometimes sung by ignorance. They +believed the Bible as read to them by the preachers, and the Bible told +them that God had made them slaves; so, at evening, they twanged rude +strings and danced the "buck" under the boughs of the cottonwood tree.</p> + +<p>On the vine-shaded veranda the typical old planter was wont to sit, +looking up and down the road, watching for a friend or a stranger—any +one worthy to drink a gentleman's liquor, sir. His library was stocked +with romances. He knew English history as handed down to him by the +sentimentalist. He hated the name of king, but revered an aristocracy. +No business was transacted under his roof; the affairs of his estate +were administered in a small office, situated at the corner of the yard. +His wife and daughters, arrayed in imported finery, drove about in a +carriage. New Orleans was his social<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> center, and he had been known to +pay as much as a thousand dollars for a family ticket to a ball at the +St. Charles hotel. His hospitality was known everywhere. He was slow to +anger, except when his honor was touched upon, and then he demanded an +apology or forced a fight. He was humorous, and yet the consciousness of +his own dignity often restrained his enjoyment of the ludicrous. When +the cotton was in bloom his possessions were beautiful. On a knoll he +could stand and imagine that the world was a sea of purple.</p> + +<p>That was the Arkansas planter years ago, before the great sentimental +storm swept down upon him, before an evening's tea-table talk in +Massachusetts became a tornado of iron in Virginia. When ragged and +heart-sore he returned from the army, from as brave a fight as man ever +engaged in, he sat down to dream over his vanished greatness. But his +dream was short. He went to work, not to re-establish his former +condition of ease—for that hope was beyond him—but to make a living +for his family.</p> + +<p>On a knoll overlooking the Arkansas River stood the Cranceford +homestead. The site was settled in 1832, by Captain Luke Cranceford, who +had distinguished himself in an Indian war. And here, not long +afterward, was born John Cranceford, who years later won applause as +commander of one of the most stubborn batteries<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> of the Confederate +Army. The house was originally built of cypress logs, but as time passed +additions of boards and brick were made, resulting in a formless but +comfortable habitation, with broad passage ways and odd lolling places +set to entrap cool breezes. The plantation comprised about one thousand +acres. The land for the most part was level, but here and there a hill +arose, like a sudden jolt. From right to left the tract was divided by a +bayou, slow and dark. The land was so valuable that most of it had been +cleared years ago, but in the wooded stretches the timber was thick, and +in places the tops of the trees were laced together with wild grape +vines. Far away was a range of pine-covered hills, blue cones in the +distance. And here lived the poorer class of people, farmers who could +not hope to look to the production of cotton, but who for a mere +existence raised thin hogs and nubbins of corn. In the lowlands the +plantations were so large and the residences so far apart that the +country would have appeared thinly settled but for the negro quarters +here and there, log villages along the bayous.</p> + +<p>In this neighborhood Major John Cranceford was the most prominent +figure. The county was named in honor of his family. He was called a +progressive man. He accepted the yoke of reconstruction and wore it with +a laugh, until it pinched, and then he said nothing, except to tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> his +neighbors that a better time was coming. And it came. The years passed, +and a man who had been prominent in the Confederate council became +Attorney-General of the American Nation, and men who had led desperate +charges against the Federal forces made speeches in the old capitol at +Washington. And thus the world was taught a lesson of forgiveness—of +the true greatness of man.</p> + +<p>In New Orleans the Major was known as a character, and his nerve was not +merely a matter of conjecture. Courage is supposed to hold a solemn +aspect, but the Major was the embodiment of heartiness. His laugh was +catching; even the negroes had it, slow, loud and long. Sometimes at +morning when a change of season had influenced him, he would slowly +stride up and down the porch, seeming to shake with joviality as he +walked. Years ago he had served as captain of a large steamboat, and +this at times gave him an air of bluff authority. He was a successful +river man, and was therefore noted for the vigor and newness of his +profanity. His wife was deeply religious, and year after year she +besought him to join the church, pleaded with him at evening when the +two children were kissed good night—and at last he stood the rector's +cross-examination and had his name placed upon the register. It was a +hard struggle, but he weeded out his oaths until but one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> was left—a +bold "by the blood." He said that he would part even with this safety +valve but that it would require time; and it did. The Major believed in +the gradual moral improvement of mankind, but he swore that the world +intellectually was going to the devil. And for this conviction he had a +graded proof. "Listen to me a minute," he was wont to say. "I'll make it +clear to you. My grandfather was graduated with great honors from +Harvard, my father was graduated with honor, I got through all right, +but my son Tom failed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>One hot afternoon the Major sat in his library. The doors were open and +a cool breeze, making the circuitous route of the passage ways, swept +through the room, bulging a newspaper which he held opened out in front +of him. He was scanning the headlines to catch the impulsive moods of +the world. The parlor was not far away, down the hall, and voices +reached him. And then there came the distressing hack, hack, of a hollow +cough. He put down the newspaper, got up, and slowly strode about the +room, not shaking with joviality as he walked. In the parlor the voices +were hushed, there was a long silence, and then came the hollow cough. +He sat down and again took up the newspaper, but the cough, hack, hack, +smote him like the recurrence of a distressing thought, and he crumpled +the paper and threw it upon the floor. Out in the yard a negro woman was +singing; far down the stream a steamboat whistled. And again came the +hollow cough. There was another long silence, and then he heard light +footsteps in the hall. A young woman halted at the door and stood +looking at him. Her face was pale and ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>peared thin, so eager was her +expression. She was slight and nervous.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said. She smiled at him and said, "Well." Then she slowly +entered the room, and with a sigh took a seat near him. The cough from +the parlor was more distressful, and she looked at him, and in her eyes +was a beseeching sadness.</p> + +<p>"Louise."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"What did I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, for you do know."</p> + +<p>"You've told me so many things—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. But what did I tell you about Carl Pennington?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes you do. I told you that I didn't want him to come here. Didn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then why is he here?"</p> + +<p>"I met him and invited him to come."</p> + +<p>"Ah, ha. But I don't want him here; don't want you to see him."</p> + +<p>She sat looking at him as if she would study every line of his face. He +shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked down. The cough came +again, and he looked at the girl. "You know the reason I don't want you +to see him. Don't you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, and I know the reason why I do want to see him."</p> + +<p>"The devil—pardon me," he quickly added, withdrawing his hands from his +pockets and bowing to her. She slightly inclined her head and smiled +sadly. He looked hard at her, striving to read her thoughts; and she was +so frail, her face was so thin and her eyes so wistful that she smote +him with pity. He reached over and took one of her hands, and +affectionately she gave him the other one. She tried to laugh. The cough +came again, and she took her hands away. He reached for them, but she +put them behind her. "No, not until I have told you," she said, and he +saw her lip tremble. "He was afraid to come in here to see you," she +went on, speaking with timid slowness. "He is so weak and sick that he +can't stand to be scolded, so I have come to—" She hesitated. He shoved +himself back and looked hard at her, and his eyebrows stuck out +fiercely.</p> + +<p>"To ask me what?" His voice was dry and rasping. "What can you ask me? +To let him come here to see you? No, daughter. I can't permit that. And +I don't intend to be cruel when I say this. I am sorry for him, God +knows I deeply sympathize with him, but he must not hope to—"</p> + +<p>"I was not going to ask you to let him come,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> she broke in. "I am going +to ask you to let me go—go with him."</p> + +<p>"By the blood!" the Major exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "What do you +mean? Marry him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," she quietly answered. He looked at her, frowning, his face +puffed, his brows jagged. And then appearing to master himself he sat +down and strove to take her hand, but she held it behind her. "My +daughter, I want to talk to you, not in anger, but with common sense. It +actually horrifies me to think of your marriage—I can't do it, that's +all. Why, the poor fellow can't live three months; he is dead on his +feet now. Listen at that cough. Louise, how can you think of marrying +him? Haven't you any judgment at all? Is it possible that you have +lost—but I won't scold you; I must reason with you. There is time +enough for you to marry, and the sympathetic fancy that you have for +that poor fellow will soon pass away. It must. You've got plenty of +chances. Jim Taylor—"</p> + +<p>"Why do you speak of him, father?"</p> + +<p>"I speak of him because he loves you—because he is as fine a young +fellow as walks the face of the earth."</p> + +<p>"But, father, he is so big and strong that he doesn't need any one to +love him."</p> + +<p>At this the Major appeared not to know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> whether to laugh or to frown. +But he did neither; he sat for a time with his hands on his knees, +looking wonderingly, almost stupidly at her; and then he said: +"Nonsense. Where did you pick up that preposterous idea? So strong that +he doesn't need love! Why, strength demands love, and to a big man the +love of a little woman—" She drew back from him as he leaned toward her +and he did not complete the sentence. Her impatience made him frown. +"Won't you let me reason with you?" he asked. "Won't you help me to +suppress all appearance of displeasure?"</p> + +<p>"It is of no use," she replied.</p> + +<p>"What is of no use? Reason?"</p> + +<p>"Argument."</p> + +<p>"What! Do you mean—"</p> + +<p>"I mean that I am going to marry him."</p> + +<p>In her eyes there was no appeal, no pleading, for the look that she gave +him was hard and determined. Harsh words flew to the Major's mind, and +he shook with the repression of them; but he was silent. He shoved his +hands into his pockets and she heard his keys rattling. He arose with a +deep sigh, and now, with his hands behind him, walked up and down the +room. Suddenly he faced about and stood looking down upon her, at the +rose in her hair.</p> + +<p>"Louise, one night on a steamboat there was a rollicking dance. It was a +moonlight excur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>sion. There was a splash and a cry that a woman had +fallen overboard. I leaped into the river, grasped her, held her head +above the stream, fighting the current. A boat was put out and we were +taken on board, and then by the light of a lantern I found that I had +saved the life of my own daughter. So, upon you, I have more than a +father's claim—the claim of gallantry, and this you cannot disregard, +and upon it I base my plea."</p> + +<p>She looked up straight at him; her lips were half open, but she said +nothing.</p> + +<p>"You don't seem to understand," he added, seeming to stiffen his +shoulders in resentment at the calmness with which she regarded him. "I +tell you that I waive the authority of a father and appeal to your +gratitude; I remind you that I saved your life—leaped into the cold +water and seized you, not knowing whose life I was striving to save at +the risk of losing my own. Isn't that worth some sort of return? Isn't +it worth even the sacrifice of a whim? Louise, don't look at me that +way. Is it possible that you don't grasp—" He hesitated and turned his +face toward the parlor whence came again the cough, hollow and +distressing. The sound died away, echoing down the hall, and a hen +clucked on the porch and a passage door slammed.</p> + +<p>"Louise," he said, looking at her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you catch—"</p> + +<p>"I catch everything, father. It was noble of you to jump into the river +when you didn't know but that you might be drowned, and recognizing that +you risked your life, and feeling a deep gratitude, it is hard to repay +you with disobedience. Wait a moment, please. You must listen to me. It +is hard to repay you with disobedience, but it cannot be helped. You say +that Mr. Pennington is dying and I know that you speak the truth. He +knows that he is dying, and he appeals to me not to let him die +alone—not alone in words," she quickly added, "but with something +stronger than words, his helplessness, his despair. Other people have +appeared to shun him because he is dying, but—"</p> + +<p>"Hold on," he broke in. "I deny that. No one has shunned him because he +is dying. Everybody is sorry for him, and you know that I would do +anything for him."</p> + +<p>"Would you? Then let him die under this roof as my husband. Oh, look how +poor and thin he is, so helpless, and dying day by day, with no +relatives near him, with nothing in prospect but long nights of +suffering. Please don't tell me that I shan't take care of him, for I +feel that it is the strongest duty that will ever come to me. Listen how +he coughs. Doesn't it appeal to you? How can you refuse—how can you +remind me of the gratitude I owe you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tears were streaming down her face. He bent over her, placed his hands +upon her cheeks and kissed her, but instantly he drew back with his +resentful stiffening of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Louise, it can't be. No argument and no appeal can bring it about. It +makes me shudder to think of it. Really I can't understand it. The +situation to me is most unnatural. But I won't be harsh with you. But I +must say that I don't know where you get your stubbornness. No, I won't +be harsh. Let me tell you what I will agree to do. He may come to this +house and stay here until—may stay here and the best of care shall be +taken of him, and you may nurse him, but you must not bear his name. +Will you agree to this?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. She had wiped away her tears and her eyes were +strong and determined. "After conceding so much I don't see why you +should refuse the vital point," she said.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you why, and I am afraid that I must."</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid; simply tell me."</p> + +<p>"But, daughter, it would seem cruel."</p> + +<p>"Not if I demand it."</p> + +<p>"Then you do demand it? Well, you shall know. His father served a term +in the Louisiana penitentiary for forgery. And now you may ask why I +ever let him come into this house. I will tell you. He had been teaching +school here<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> some time and I said nothing. One day during a rainstorm he +stopped at the gate. He was sick and I invited him to come in. After +that I could not find enough firmness to tell him not to come, he was so +pale and weak. I see now that it was a false sympathy. Do you understand +me? His father was a convict."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand. He told me."</p> + +<p>"By the blood on the Cross! Do you mean to say—Louise," he broke off, +gazing upon her, "your mind is unsettled. Yes, you are crazy, and, of +course, all your self-respect is gone. You needn't say a word, you are +crazy. You are—I don't know what you are, but I know what I am, and +now, after the uselessness of my appeal to your gratitude, I will assert +the authority of a father. You shall not marry him."</p> + +<p>"And would you kill a dying man?" she quietly asked.</p> + +<p>The question jolted him, and he shouted out: "What do you mean by such +nonsense? You know I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Then I will marry him."</p> + +<p>For a moment the Major's anger choked him. With many a dry rasp he +strove to speak, and just as he had made smoother a channel for his +words, he heard the hollow cough drawing nearer. He motioned toward a +door that opened in an opposite direction, and the girl, after +hesitating a moment, quickly stepped out upon a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> veranda that overlooked +the river. The Major turned his eyes toward the other door, and there +Pennington stood with a handkerchief tightly pressed to his mouth. For a +time they were silent, one strong and severe, the other tremulous and +almost spectral in the softened light.</p> + +<p>"There is a chair, sir," said the Major, pointing.</p> + +<p>"I thank you, sir; I don't care to sit down. I—I am very sorry that you +are compelled to look upon me as—as you do, sir. And it is all my +fault, I assure you, and I can't defend myself."</p> + +<p>He dropped his handkerchief and looked down as if he were afraid to +stoop to pick it up. The Major stepped forward, caught up the +handkerchief, handed it to him and stepped back.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," Pennington said, bowing, and then, after a short +pause, he added: "I don't know what to say in explanation of—of myself. +But I should think, sir, that the strength of a man's love is a +sufficient defense of any weakness he may possess—I mean a sufficient +defense of any indiscretion that his love has led him to commit. This +situation stole upon me, and I was scarcely aware of its coming until it +was here. I didn't know how serious—" He coughed his words, and when he +became calmer, repeated his plea that love ought to excuse any weakness +in man. "Your daughter is an angel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> of mercy," he said. "When I found +myself dying as young as I was and as hopeful as I had been my soul +filled up with a bitter resentment against nature and God, but she drew +out the bitterness and instilled a sweetness and a prayer. And now to +take her from me would be to snatch away the prospect of that peaceful +life that lies beyond the grave. Sir, I heard you tell her that she was +crazy. If so, then may God bless all such insanity."</p> + +<p>He pressed the handkerchief to his mouth, racking, struggling; and when +the convulsive agony had passed he smiled, and there in the shadow by +the door the light that crossed his face was ghastly, like a dim smear +of phosphorus. And now the Major's shoulders were not stiffened with +resentment; they were drooping with a pity that he could not conceal, +but his face was hard set, the expression of the mercy of one man for +another, but also the determination to protect a daughter and the good +name of an honored household.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Pennington, I was never so sorry for any human being as I am for +you at this moment, but, sir, the real blessings of this life come +through justice and not through impulsive mercy. In thoughtless sympathy +a great wrong may lie, and out of a marriage with disease may arise a +generation of misery. We are largely responsible for the ailments of +those who are to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> follow us. The wise man looks to the future; the weak +man hugs the present. You say that my daughter is an angel of mercy. She +has ever been a sort of sister of charity. I confess that I have never +been able wholly to understand her. At times she has even puzzled her +mother, and a daughter is odd, indeed, when a mother cannot comprehend +her. I am striving to be gentle with you, but I must tell you that you +cannot marry her. I don't want to tell you to go, and yet it is better +that this interview should come to a close."</p> + +<p>He bowed to Pennington and turned toward the veranda that overlooked the +river, but a supplicating voice called him back. "I wish to say," said +the consumptive, "that from your point of view you are right. But that +does not alter my position. You speak of the misery that arises from a +marriage with disease. That was very well put, but let me say, sir, that +I believe that I am growing stronger. Sometimes I have thought that I +had consumption, but in my saner moments I know that I have not. I can +see an improvement from day to day. Several days ago I couldn't help +coughing, but now at times I can suppress it. I am growing stronger."</p> + +<p>"Sir," exclaimed the Major, "if you were as strong as a lion you should +not marry her. Good day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p>Slowly and heavily the Major walked out upon the veranda. He stood upon +the steps leading down into the yard, and he saw Louise afar off +standing upon the river's yellow edge. She had thrown her hat upon the +sand, and she stood with her hands clasped upon her brown head. A wind +blew down the stream, and the water lapped at her feet. The Major looked +back into the library, at the door wherein Pennington had stood, and +sighed with relief upon finding that he was gone. He looked back toward +the river. The girl was walking along the shore, meditatively swinging +her hat. He stepped to the corner of the house, and, gazing down the +road, saw Pennington on a horse, now sitting straight, now bending low +over the horn of the saddle. The old gentleman had a habit of making a +sideward motion with his hand as if he would put all unpleasant thoughts +behind him, and now he made the motion not only once, but many times. +And it seemed that his thoughts would not obey him, for he became more +imperative in his pantomimic demand.</p> + +<p>At one corner of the large yard, where the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> smooth ground broke off into +a steep slope to the river, there stood a small office built of brick. +It was the Major's executive chamber, and thither he directed his steps. +Inside this place his laugh was never heard; at the door his smile +always faded. In this commercial sanctuary were enforced the exactions +that made the plantation thrive. Outside, in the yard, in the "big +house," elsewhere under the sky, a plea of distress might moisten his +eyes and soften his heart to his own financial disadvantage, but under +the moss-grown shingles of the office all was business, hard, +uncompromising. It was told in the neighborhood that once, in this +inquisition of affairs, he demanded the last cent possessed by a widowed +woman, but that, while she was on her way home, he overtook her, +graciously returned the money and magnanimously tore to pieces a +mortgage that he held against her small estate.</p> + +<p>Just as he entered the office there came across the yard a loud and +impatient voice. "Here, Bill, confound you, come and take this horse. +Don't you hear me, you idiot? You infernal niggers are getting to be so +no-account that the last one of you ought to be driven off the place. +Trot, confound you. Here, take this horse to the stable and feed him. +Where is the Major? In the office? The devil he is."</p> + +<p>Toward the office slowly strode old Gideon Batts, fanning himself with +his white slouch hat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> He was short, fat, and bald; he was bowlegged +with a comical squat; his eyes stuck out like the eyes of a swamp frog; +his nose was enormous, shapeless, and red. To the Major's family he +traced the dimmest line of kinship. During twenty years he had operated +a small plantation that belonged to the Major, and he was always at +least six years behind with his rent. He had married the widow Martin, +and afterward swore that he had been disgracefully deceived by her, that +he had expected much but had found her moneyless; and after this he had +but small faith in woman. His wife died and he went into contented +mourning, and out of gratitude to his satisfied melancholy, swore that +he would pay his rent, but failed. Upon the Major he held a strong hold, +and this was a puzzle to the neighbors. Their characters stood at +fantastic and whimsical variance; one never in debt, the other never out +of debt; one clamped by honor, the other feeling not its restraining +pinch. But together they would ride abroad, laughing along the road. To +Mrs. Cranceford old Gid was a pest. With the shrewd digs of a woman, the +blood-letting side stabs of her sex, she had often shown her disapproval +of the strong favor in which the Major held him; she vowed that her +husband had gathered many an oath from Gid's swollen store of execration +(when, in truth, Gid had been an apt pupil under the Major), and she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +had hoped that the Major's attachment to the church would of necessity +free him from the humiliating association with the old sinner, but it +did not, for they continued to ride abroad, laughing along the road.</p> + +<p>Like a skittish horse old Gid shied at the office door. Once he had +crossed that threshold and it had cost him a crop of cotton.</p> + +<p>"How are you, John?" was Gid's salutation as he edged off, still fanning +himself.</p> + +<p>"How are you, sir?" was the Major's stiff recognition of the fact that +Gid was on earth.</p> + +<p>"Getting hotter, I believe, John."</p> + +<p>"I presume it is, sir." The Major sat with his elbow resting on a desk, +and about him were stacked threatening bundles of papers; and old Gid +knew that in those commercial romances he himself was a familiar +character.</p> + +<p>"Are you busy, John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you may come in."</p> + +<p>"No, I thank you. Don't believe I've got time."</p> + +<p>"Then take time. I want to talk to you. Come in."</p> + +<p>"No, not to-day, John. Fact is I'm not feeling very well. Head's all +stopped up with a cold, and these summer colds are awful, I tell you. It +was a summer cold that took my father off."</p> + +<p>"How's your cotton in that low strip along the bayou?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tolerable, John; tolerable."</p> + +<p>"Come in. I want to talk to you about it."</p> + +<p>"Don't believe I can stand the air in there, John. Head all stopped up. +Don't believe I'm going to live very long."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. You are as strong as a buck."</p> + +<p>"You may think so, John, but I'm not. I thought father was strong, too, +but a summer cold got him. I am getting along in years, John, and I find +that I have to take care of myself. But if you really want to talk to me +about that piece of cotton, come out under the trees where it's cool."</p> + +<p>The Major shoved back his papers and arose, but hesitated; and Gid stood +looking on, fanning himself. The Major stepped out and Gid's face was +split asunder with a broad smile.</p> + +<p>"I gad. I've been up town and had a set-to with old Baucum and the rest +of them. Pulled up fifty winner at poker and jumped. Devilish glad to +see you; miss you every minute of the time I'm away. Let's go over there +and sit down on that bench."</p> + +<p>They walked toward a bench under a live-oak tree, and upon Gid's +shoulder the Major's hand affectionately rested. They halted to laugh, +and old Gid shoved the Major away from him, then seized him and drew him +back. They sat down, still laughing, but suddenly the Major became +serious.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gid, I'm in trouble," he said.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my boy, there is no such thing as trouble. Throw it off. Look +at me. I've had enough of what the world calls trouble to kill a dozen +ordinary men, but just look at me—getting stronger every day. Throw it +off. What is it, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Louise declares that she is going to marry Pennington!"</p> + +<p>"What!" old Gid exclaimed, turning with a bouncing flounce and looking +straight at the Major. "Marry Pennington! Why, she shan't, John. That's +all there is of it. We object and that settles it. Why, what the deuce +can she be thinking about?"</p> + +<p>"Thinking about him," the Major answered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but she must quit it. Why, it's outrageous for as sensible a girl +as she is to think of marrying that fellow. You leave it to me; hear +what I said? Leave it to me."</p> + +<p>This suggested shift of responsibility did not remove the shadow of +sadness that had fallen across the Major's countenance.</p> + +<p>"You leave it to me and I'll give her a talk she'll not forget. I'll +make her understand that she's a queen, and a woman is pretty devilish +skittish about marrying anybody when you convince her that she's a +queen. What does your wife say about it?"</p> + +<p>"She hasn't said anything. She's out visiting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> and I haven't seen her +since Louise told me of her determination to marry him."</p> + +<p>"Don't say determination, John. Say foolish notion. But it's all right."</p> + +<p>"No, it's not all right."</p> + +<p>"What, have you failed to trust me? Is it possible that you have lost +faith in me? Don't do that, John, for if you do it will be a never +failing source of regret. You don't seem to remember what my powers of +persuasion have accomplished in the past. When I was in the legislature, +chairman of the Committee on County and County Lines, what did my +protest do? It kept them from cutting off a ten-foot strip of this +county and adding it to Jefferson. You must remember those things, John, +for in the factors of persuasion lie the shaping of human life. I've +been riding in the hot sun and I think that a mint julep would hit me +now just about where I live. Say, there, Bill, bring us some mint, sugar +and whisky. And cold water, mind you. Oh, everything will come out all +right. By the way, do you remember that Catholic priest that came here +with a letter of introduction to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, his name is Brennon."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's it. But how did he happen to bring a letter to you?"</p> + +<p>"He came from Maryland with a letter given him by a relative of mine."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, and he has gone to work, I tell you. Do you know what he's doing? +Reaching out quietly and gathering the negroes into his church. And +there are some pretty wise men behind him. They didn't send an Irishman +or a Dutchman or an Italian, but an American from an old family. He's +already got three negroes on my place, and Perdue tells me that he's +nipping one now and then over his way. There's a scheme in it, John."</p> + +<p>"There is a scheme in all human affairs, and consequently in all church +movements," the Major replied, and the impulse of a disquisition +straightened him into a posture more dignified, for he was fond of +talking and at times he strove to be logical and impressive; but at this +moment Bill arrived with mint from the spring; and with lighter talk two +juleps were made.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said old Gideon, sipping his scented drink, "virtue may become +wearisome, and we may gape during the most fervent prayer, but I gad, +John, there is always the freshness of youth in a mint julep. Pour just +a few more drops of liquor into mine, if you please—want it to rassle +me a trifle, you know. Recollect those come-all ye songs we used to +sing, going down the river? Remember the time I snatched the sword out +of my cane and lunged at a horse trader from Tennessee? Scoundrel +grabbed it and broke it off and it was all I could do to keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> him from +establishing a close and intimate relationship with me. Great old days, +John; and I Gad, they'll never come again."</p> + +<p>"I remember it all, Gid, and it was along there that you fell in love +with a woman that lived at Mortimer's Bend."</p> + +<p>"Easy, now, John. A trifle more liquor, if you please. Thank you. Yes, I +used to call her the wild plum. Sweet thing, and I had no idea that she +was married until her lout of a husband came down to the landing with a +double-barrel gun. Ah, Lord, if she had been single and worth money I +could have made her very happy. Fate hasn't always been my friend, +John."</p> + +<p>"Possibly not, Gid, but you know that fate to be just should divide her +favors, and this time she leaned toward the woman."</p> + +<p>"Slow, John. I Gad, there's your wife."</p> + +<p>A carriage drew up at the yard gate and a woman stepped out. She did not +go into the house, but seeing the Major, came toward him. She was tall, +with large black eyes and very gray hair. In her step was suggested the +pride of an old Kentucky family, belles, judges and generals. She smiled +at the Major and bowed stiffly at old Gid. The two men arose.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I don't care to sit down," she said. "Where is Louise?"</p> + +<p>"I saw her down by the river just now," the Major answered.</p> + +<p>"I wish to see her at once," said his wife.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall I go and call her, madam?" Gid asked.</p> + +<p>She gave him a look of surprise and answered: "No, I thank you."</p> + +<p>"No trouble, I assure you," Gid persisted. "I am pleased to say that age +has not affected my voice, except to mellow it with more of reverence +when I address the wife of a noble man and the mother of a charming +girl."</p> + +<p>She had dignity, but humor was never lost upon her, and she smiled. This +was encouraging and old Gid proceeded: "I was just telling the Major of +my splendid prospects for a bountiful crop this year, and I feel that +with this blessing of Providence I shall soon be able to meet all my +obligations. I saw our rector, Mr. Mills, this morning, and he spoke of +how thankful I ought to be—he had just passed my bayou field—and I +told him that I would not only assert my gratitude but would prove it +with a substantial donation to the church at the end of the season."</p> + +<p>In the glance which she gave him there was refined and gentle contempt; +and then she looked down upon the decanter of whisky. Old Gideon drew +down the corners of his mouth, as was his wont when he strove to excite +compassion.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said with a note of pity forced upon his voice, "I am +exceedingly thankful for all the blessings that have come to me, but I +haven't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> been very well of late, rather feeble to-day, and the kind +Major, noticing it, insisted upon my taking a little liquor, the +medicine of our sturdy and gallant fathers, madam."</p> + +<p>The Major sprawled himself back with a roaring laugh, and hereupon Gid +added: "It takes the Major a long time to get over a joke. Told him one +just now and it tickled him mighty nigh to death. Well, I must be going +now, and, madam, if I should chance to see anything of your charming +daughter, I will tell her that you desire a conference with her. +William," he called, "my horse, if you please."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford had met Pennington in the road, and on his horse, in the +shade of a cottonwood tree, he had leaned against the carriage window to +tell her of his interview with the Major. He had desperately appealed to +the sympathy which one with so gentle a nature must feel for a dying +man, and had implored her to intercede with her husband; but with +compassionate firmness she had told him that no persuasion could move +her husband from the only natural position he could take, and that she +herself was forced to oppose the marriage.</p> + +<p>The Major, with his hands behind him, was now walking up and down the +short stretch of shade. "I don't wonder that the absurdity of it does +not strike him," he said, "for he is a drowning sentimentalist, catching +at a fantastic straw." He paused in his walk to look at his wife as if +he expected to find on her face a commendation of this simile. She +nodded, knowing what to do, and the Major continued, resuming his walk: +"I say that I can't blame him so much, but Louise ought to have better +sense. I'll swear I don't know where she gets her stub<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>bornness. Oh, but +there is no use worrying ourselves with a discussion of it. You may talk +to her, but I have had my say."</p> + +<p>Louise, meanwhile, was strolling along a shaded lane that led from the +ferry. Iron weeds grew in the corners of the fence, and in one hand she +carried a bunch of purple blooms; with the other hand she slowly swung +her hat, holding the strings. A flock of sheep came pattering down the +road. With her hat she struck at the leader, a stubborn dictator +demanding the whole of the highway. His flock scampered off in a fright, +leaving him doggedly eyeing the disputer of his progress. But now she +was frightened, with such fierceness did the old ram lower his head and +gaze at her, and she cried out, "Go on back, you good-for-nothing +thing."</p> + +<p>"He won't hurt you," a voice cried in the woods, just beyond the fence. +"Walk right up to him."</p> + +<p>An enormous young fellow came up to the fence and with climbing over +broke the top rail. "Don't you see he's scared?"</p> + +<p>"But he would have knocked me over if you hadn't come."</p> + +<p>"No, he wouldn't; he was just trying to make friends with you."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want such a friend."</p> + +<p>Together they slowly walked along. With tenderness in his eyes he looked +down upon her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> and when he spoke, which he did from time to time, his +voice was deep and heavy but with a mellowness in it. She addressed him +as Mr. Taylor and asked him if he had been away. And he said that he +had, but that was not a sufficient reason for the formality of +Mister—his name was Jim. She looked up at him—and her eyes were so +blue that they looked black—and admitted that his name had been Jim but +that now it must be Mr. Taylor. She laughed at this but his face was +serious.</p> + +<p>"Why, I haven't called you Jim since——"</p> + +<p>"Since I asked you to marry me."</p> + +<p>"No, not since then. And now you know it wouldn't be right to call you +Jim."</p> + +<p>In his slowness of speech he floundered about, treading down the briars +that grew along the edge of the road, walking with heavy tread but +tenderly looking down upon her. "That ought not to make any difference," +he said. "I knew you before you—before you knew anything, and now it +doesn't sound right to hear you call me anything but Jim. It is true +that the last time I saw you—seems a long time, but it wasn't more than +a week ago—you said that you wouldn't marry me, and really the time +seems so long that I didn't know but you might have changed your mind."</p> + +<p>"No, not yet," she replied.</p> + +<p>"But you might."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, I couldn't."</p> + +<p>"Is it as bad as that?"</p> + +<p>"It's worse; it would be impossible for me to change."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose you know why?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. I am going to be married."</p> + +<p>"What!" He stopped, expecting her to obey his own prompting and halt +also, but she walked on. With long strides he overtook her, passed her, +stood in front of her. She stepped aside and passed on. But again he +overtook her, but this time he did not seek to detain her.</p> + +<p>"I can't believe it," he said, stripping the leaves from the thorn +bushes and briars that came within touch of his swinging hand. "I don't +believe that you would marry a man unless you loved him and +who—who——"</p> + +<p>"Somebody," she said.</p> + +<p>"Please don't tantalize me in this way. Tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>"You know Mr. Pennington——"</p> + +<p>"Who, that poor fellow!" he cried. "You surely don't think of marrying +him. Louise, don't joke with me. Why, he can't live more than three +months."</p> + +<p>Now she halted and there was anger in her eyes as she looked at him, and +resentful rebuke was in her voice when she spoke. "And you, too, fix the +length of time he is to live. Why do you all agree to give him three +months? Is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> that all the time you are willing to allow him?"</p> + +<p>He stepped back from her and stood fumbling with his great hands. "I +didn't know that any one else had given him three months," he replied. +"I based my estimate merely on my recollection of how he looked the last +time I saw him. I am willing to allow him all the time he wants and far +more than Nature seems willing to grant."</p> + +<p>"No, you are not. You all want him to die."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, Louise. You know that I ain't that mean. But I +acknowledge that I don't want you to marry him."</p> + +<p>"What need you care? If I refuse to marry you what difference does it +make to you whom I marry?"</p> + +<p>"It makes this difference—that I would rather see you the wife of a man +that can take care of you. Louise, they say that I'm slow about +everything, and I reckon I am, but when a slow man loves he loves for +all time."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it; don't believe that any man loves for all time."</p> + +<p>"Louise, to hear you talk one might think that you have been grossly +deceived, but I know you haven't, and that is what forces me to say that +I don't understand you."</p> + +<p>"You don't have to understand me. Nobody has asked you to."</p> + +<p>She walked on and he strode beside her, stripping the leaves off the +shrubs, looking down at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> her, worshipping her; and she, frail and +whimsical, received with unconcern the giant's adoration.</p> + +<p>"I told the Major that I loved you—"</p> + +<p>"Told him before you did me, didn't you?" she broke in, glancing up at +him.</p> + +<p>"No, but on the same day. I knew he was my friend, and I didn't know +but—"</p> + +<p>"That he would order me to marry you?"</p> + +<p>"No, not that, but I thought he might reason with you."</p> + +<p>"That's just like a stupid man. He thinks that he can win a woman with +reason."</p> + +<p>He pondered a long time, seeming to feel that this bit of observation +merited well-considered reply, and at last he said: "No, I didn't think +that a woman could be won by something she didn't understand."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you didn't. That was brilliant of you. But let us not spat with +each other, Jim."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't spat with you, Louise; I think too much of you for that, and +I want to say right now that no matter if you do marry I'm going to keep +on loving you just the same. I have loved you so long now that I don't +know how to quit. People say that I am industrious, and they compliment +me for keeping up my place so well, and for not going to town and +loafing about of a Sunday and at night, but the truth is there ain't a +dog in this county that's lazier than I am. Dur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>ing all these years my +mind has been on you so strong that I have been driven to work."</p> + +<p>She had thrown down her iron weed blossoms and had put her hands to her +ears to shut out his words as if they were a reproach to her, but she +heard him and thus replied: "It appears that I have been of some service +at any rate."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but now you are going to undo it all."</p> + +<p>"I thought you said you were going to keep on loving me just the same."</p> + +<p>"What! Do you want me to?" There was eagerness in his voice, and with +hope tingling in his blood he remembered that a few moments before she +had called him Jim. "Do you want me to?"</p> + +<p>"I want you always to be my friend."</p> + +<p>Under these words he drooped and there was no eagerness in his voice +when he replied: "Friendship between a great big man and a little bit of +a woman is nonsense. They must love or be nothing to each other."</p> + +<p>They had now reached the road that led past the Major's house. She +turned toward home. "Wait a moment," he said, halting. She stopped and +looked back at him. "Did you hear what I said?"</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"Hear what I said about a big man and a little woman?"</p> + +<p>"No, what did you say?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p>He fumbled with his hands and replied: "No matter what I said then. What +I say now is good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye."</p> + +<p>She tripped along as if she were glad to be rid of him, but after a time +she walked slower as if she were deeply musing. She heard the brisk +trotting of a horse, and, looking up, recognized Gideon Batts, jogging +toward her. He saw her, and, halting in the shade, he waited for her to +come up, and as she drew near he cried out, "Helloa, young rabbit."</p> + +<p>She wrinkled her Greek nose at him, but she liked his banter, and with +assumed offense she replied: "Frog."</p> + +<p>"None of that, my lady."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, what made you call me a young rabbit?"</p> + +<p>"Because your ears stick out."</p> + +<p>"I don't care if they do."</p> + +<p>"Neither does a young rabbit."</p> + +<p>"I call you a frog because your eyes stick out and because you are so +puffy."</p> + +<p>"Slow, now, my lady, queen of the sunk lands. Oh, but they are laying +for you at home and you are going to catch it. I'd hate to be in your +fix."</p> + +<p>"And I wouldn't be in yours."</p> + +<p>"Easy, now. You allude to my looks, eh? Why, I have broken more than one +heart."</p> + +<p>"Why, I didn't know you had been married but once."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>He winced. "Look here, you mustn't talk that way."</p> + +<p>"But you began it. You called me a young rabbit."</p> + +<p>"That's right, and now we will call it off. What a memory you've got. I +gad, once joke with a woman and her impudence—which she mistakes for +wit—leaps over all difference in ages. But they are laying for you at +home and you are going to catch it. I laughed at them; told them it was +nonsense to suppose that the smartest girl in the state was going to +marry—"</p> + +<p>"You've said enough. I don't need your championship."</p> + +<p>"But you've got it and can't help yourself. Why, so far as brains are +concerned, the average legislator can't hold a candle to you."</p> + +<p>"That's no compliment."</p> + +<p>"Slow. I was in the legislature."</p> + +<p>"Yes, one term, I hear."</p> + +<p>"Why did you hear one term?"</p> + +<p>"Because they didn't send you back, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Easy. But I tell you that the Major and your mother are furious. Your +mother said—"</p> + +<p>"She said very little in your presence."</p> + +<p>"Careful. She said a great deal. But I infer from your insinuation that +she doesn't think very well of me."</p> + +<p>"You ought to know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do; I know that she is wrong in her estimate of me. And I also know +that I am right in my estimate of her. She is the soul of gentleness and +quiet dignity. But you like me, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed to say that I like you in spite of my judgment."</p> + +<p>"Easy. That's good, I must say. Ah, the influence I have upon people is +somewhat varied. Upon a certain type of woman, the dignified lady of a +passing generation, I exercise no particular influence, but I catch the +over-bright young women in spite of themselves. The reason you think so +much of me is because you are the brightest young woman I ever saw. And +this puts me at a loss to understand why you are determined to marry +that fellow Pennington. Wait a moment. I gad, if you go I'll ride along +with you. Answer me one question: Is your love for him so great that +you'll die if you don't marry him? Or is it that out of a perversity +that you can't understand you are determined to throw away a life that +could be made most useful? Louise, we have joked with each other ever +since you were a child. In my waddling way I have romped with you, and I +can scarcely realize that you are nearly twenty-four years old. Think of +it, well advanced toward the age of discretion, and yet you are about to +give yourself to a dying man. I don't know what to say."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It seems not," she replied. And after a moment's pause she added: "If I +am so well advanced toward the age of discretion I should be permitted +to marry without the advice of an entire neighborhood."</p> + +<p>She was now standing in the sun, looking up at him, her half-closed eyes +glinting like blue-tempered steel.</p> + +<p>"Is marriage wholly a matter of selfishness?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Slow. If you are putting that to me as a direct question I am, as a man +who never shies at the truth, compelled to say that it is. But let me +ask you if it is simply a matter of accommodation? If it is, why not +send out a collection of handsome girls to marry an aggregation of +cripples?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes were wide open now and she was laughing. "No one could be +serious with you, Mr. Gid."</p> + +<p>"And no one could make you serious with yourself."</p> + +<p>"Frog."</p> + +<p>"Young rabbit."</p> + +<p>She put her hands to her ears. "I would rather be a young rabbit than a +frog."</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment," he called as she turned away.</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>"When you go home I wish you'd tell your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> mother that I talked to you +seriously concerning the foolishness of your contemplated marriage. Will +you do that much for your old playmate?"</p> + +<p>She made a face at him and trippingly hastened away. He looked after +her, shook his head, gathered up his bridle reins, and jogged off toward +his home.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p>At home Louise made known her arrival by singing along the hallway that +led to her room. She knew that not a very pleasant reception awaited +her, and she was resolved to meet it with the appearance of careless +gayety. She entered her room, drew back the curtains to admit the light, +deftly touched her hair at the mirror, and sat down in a rocking chair. +She took up a book, an American fad built upon a London failure, and was +aimlessly turning the leaves when she heard her mother's voice.</p> + +<p>"Are you in there, Louise?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, come."</p> + +<p>In the mother's appearance there was no suggestion of a stored rebuke; +her gray hair, faultlessly parted, was smoothed upon her brow, her +countenance bespoke calmness, and her sad eyes were full of tender love.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you look so cool and sweet," said the girl. "Have this chair."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, I prefer to sit here."</p> + +<p>She sat upon a straight-back chair. In her "day" only grandmothers were +supposed to sit in rockers; younger women were thought to pre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>serve +their health and their grace of form by sitting with rigid dignity upon +chairs which might now be exhibited as relics of household barbarism.</p> + +<p>"Did you have a pleasant visit?" the girl asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very; but it was so warm over there under the hills that I was +glad when the time came to leave."</p> + +<p>"Does that Englishman still live alone on the Jasper place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, with his straight pipe and Scotch whisky. Perdue says that he +appears to be perfectly contented there all alone."</p> + +<p>"Have they found out anything about him?"</p> + +<p>"No, only what he has been pleased to tell, and that isn't much. It +seems that he is the younger son of a good family strayed off from home +to better his condition."</p> + +<p>"But why should he try to raise cotton when they say there is so little +money in it, and especially when it requires experience? And the climate +must be trying on him?"</p> + +<p>"No, he says that the climate agrees with him. He has lived in India. He +is reading American history and is much taken with the part the South +has borne, so I learned from Mr. Perdue. He did not expect to find so +little prejudice against foreigners. I could have told him that, in the +South, an Englishman is scarcely looked upon as a foreigner—that is, +among the best people."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>They talked about many things that concerned them but little, of a new +steamboat that had just entered upon the commerce of the lower river, of +a cotton gin that was burned the night before, of the Catholic priest +who had come to gather the negroes into his church; and surely they were +far from a mention of Pennington. But suddenly Louise moved with +uneasiness, for she had caught something that had not been said, that +had not been looked, and, springing to her feet, she almost threw +herself upon her mother, and with her arms about her, she cried: "Please +don't say a word; please don't. I can argue with father, but I can't +argue with you, for you take everything so to heart and suffer so much. +Please don't speak anybody's name—don't say that father has said +anything to you about anybody. You mustn't cry, either. Leave it all to +me, and if I was born to wring your dear heart—there, let us hush."</p> + +<p>She straightened up, putting the hair out of her eyes, and the silent +and stately woman sat there with the tears rolling down her face. +"Please don't, mother. You'll make me think I'm the meanest creature in +the world. And I don't know but that I am, but I can't help it. Just +call me unnatural, as you have done so many times, and let it all go. +There, just listen at father walking up and down the porch; and I know +he's mad at me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, my child, he is not angry; he is hurt."</p> + +<p>"Please don't say that. I don't want to hurt him. I would rather make +him mad than to hurt him. Oh, I don't know what ails me, I am so +restless and unhappy. I have tried every way to cure myself, but +can't—I have read and read until I haven't any sense, and now I don't +know what to do. But don't you tell me what not to do; don't say +anything, but be your own sweet self."</p> + +<p>She took up a brush from the dresser, touched her mother's hair, and +said: "Let me, please." She loosened the thick coil. "Beautiful," she +said. "Don't you know how I used to tease you to let me comb it, a long +time ago? But it wasn't as pretty then as it is now."</p> + +<p>Through her fingers the white hair streamed, glinting in the light now +sobered by the falling of dusk.</p> + +<p>The Major's step was heard at the door. "Come in, father. See, I am at +my old employment." And in their faces and in the hair streaming through +his daughter's fingers the old man read that all was well. He stood +smiling at them. Out in the yard the fox-hounds began to yelp, and a +galloping horse stopped with a loud, jolting "gluck" at the gate. Then +came authoritative commands, and then a jar as if some one had leaped +upon the porch. There was brisk walking, the opening and slamming of +doors, and then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> at Louise's door a voice demanded: "What are you all +doing here in the dark? Ain't supper ready? I'm as hungry as a she +bear."</p> + +<p>The Major's son Tom had arrived. And just at that moment, and before any +one replied to him, the supper bell began to ring. "Takes me to bring +things about, eh? You people might have waited here hungry for an hour. +What are you doing here, anyway? Lou brushing mam's hair and pap looking +on like a boy at a show."</p> + +<p>"Thomas," said his mother, "I wish you wouldn't be so rough. There, +daughter, that will do. Just coil it. That's it; thank you. Major, I do +wish you wouldn't laugh at the brusqueness of your son; you encourage +him."</p> + +<p>Tom took his mother by the shoulders and turned her face toward the +door. He was a clean-looking, blondish fellow, younger than his +sister—an athlete, a boxer, with far more restlessness of muscle than +absorption of mind. He had failed at Harvard, where his +great-grandfather had distinguished himself; he had, with the influence +of a Congressman, secured a West Point cadetship, and there had fallen +under the rapid fire of a battery of mathematics, and had come home +scouting at the humiliation which he had put upon his parents, and was +now ready to submit himself to any other test that might present +itself—was ready to borrow, to lend, or to fight. He picked negro tunes +on a banjo, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> had been heard hoarsely to sing a love song under a +cypress tree. He had now just returned from the capital of the state, +where he had spent two days watching the flank movements of a military +drill.</p> + +<p>"You people seem to be mighty solemn," was Tom's observation as they sat +down to supper, glancing from one to another, and finally directing a +questioning look at his father. "What's the trouble? What's happened? Is +it possible that old Gideon has paid his rent?"</p> + +<p>Louise laughed, a wrinkle crept across Mrs. Cranceford's brow and the +Major sprawled back with a loud "haw." Gid's rent was a standing joke; +and nothing is more sacredly entitled to instant recognition than a joke +that for years has been established in a Southern household.</p> + +<p>"I notice that he never goes into the Major's office," Mrs. Cranceford +remarked; and Tom quickly replied: "And I don't blame him for that. I +went in there about a month ago and haven't had a dollar since."</p> + +<p>The Major did not laugh at this. The reputed exaction of his executive +chamber was a sore spot to him. "How you robbers, young and old, would +like to fleece me," he said. "And if I didn't turn to defensive stone +once in a while you'd pull out my eye teeth."</p> + +<p>"Don't see how anybody could get hold of your eye teeth, dad," Tom +replied. "You are al<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>ways busy cutting them when I come round. Oh, by +the way," he added with sudden seriousness, "you remember that fellow +Mayo, the one that ran for County Clerk down here some time ago?"</p> + +<p>"The scoundrel who swore he was elected?"</p> + +<p>"That's the man. He disappeared, you know, after his trouble down here, +then he went on from one community to another, a Democrat one season and +a Republican the next, and now he has returned as a labor leader. I met +him yesterday in Little Rock, and I never have seen a more insolent +ruffian. He makes no secret of his plans, and he says that blood is +bound to flow. I asked him if he had any to spare, and he cocked his eye +at me and replied that he didn't know but he had."</p> + +<p>The Major was silent, abstractedly balancing his knife on the rim of his +plate. Mayo, an adventurer, a scoundrel with a brutish force that passed +for frankness, had at one time almost brought about an uprising among +the negroes of Cranceford County, and eager ears in the North, not the +ears of the old soldier, but of the politician, shutting out the +suggestions of justice, heard only the clamor of a political outrage; +and again arose the loud cry that the South had robbed the inoffensive +negro of his suffrage. But the story, once so full of alarm, was +beginning to be a feeble reminiscence; Northern men with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> business +interests in the South had begun to realize that the white man, though +often in the wrong, could sometimes be in the right. But now a +problem—graver than the over-thrashed straw of political rights, was +about to be presented.</p> + +<p>"I was in hopes that somebody had killed that fellow," said the Major, +and his wife looked up with gentle reproof. "Don't say that, dear. The +Lord will take him in His own good time."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman winked at Tom. "I don't know about that," he replied. +"I am afraid that the Lord in His management of the universe has +forgotten him."</p> + +<p>"John, please don't talk that way." When she was very serious she called +him John. "When you speak so lightly you make me afraid that your +relationship with the church is not very sacred to you."</p> + +<p>"It's serious at any rate, Margaret."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, John?"</p> + +<p>"Why," Tom cried, "it means that you dragged him into the pow-wow."</p> + +<p>"Thomas"—and this time her reproof was not very gentle—"I won't stand +that from you. And daughter," she added, speaking to Louise, "it is not +a laughing matter. It all comes from so close an association with that +good-for-nothing old Gideon. I know it does, and you needn't say a word. +Nothing is sacred to him; he has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> no respect for God and cares nothing +for man except to the extent that he can use him."</p> + +<p>The Major strove to wink at Tom, but there was a hitch in his eye. "My +dear, you don't understand the old fellow," said he. "And therefore you +misjudge him. I know that he is weak, but I also know that he is strong, +and he is quite as necessary to me as I am to him. He rests me, and rest +is as essential as work. Sometimes the perfect gentleman is a bore; +sometimes the perfect lady is tiresome. In man there is a sort of +innocent evil, a liking for the half depraved and an occasional feeding +of this appetite heightens his respect for the truly virtuous."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it, John."</p> + +<p>"Of course you don't. You are the truly virtuous, and—" he spread +himself back with a loud "haw," and sat there shaking under her cool +gaze. "There, Margaret," he said, wiping his eyes, "don't take it to +heart. I am doing the best I can and that is all the excuse I have to +offer. I'm getting old; do you realize that? The things that used to +amuse me are flat now and I can't afford to kill an amusement when one +does happen to come along. Don't you worry about Gid. Why, Margaret, he +has stood by me when other men turned their backs. The river was +dangerous during my day, and the pop of a pistol was as natural as the +bark of a dog. But old Gid was there by me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't doubt that he has some good qualities," she admitted. "But +why doesn't he mend his ways?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he hasn't time for that, Margaret. He's too busy with other +matters. There, now, we won't talk about him. But I promise you, my +dear, that he shall not unduly influence me. I don't exactly know what I +mean by that, either. I mean that you need have no fear of my permitting +him to weaken my respect for the church. Yes, I think that's about what +I mean. But the fact is he has never tried to do that. But what's the +use of this talk. I can sum up the whole situation by reminding you that +I am the master. There, now, don't sigh—don't look so worried."</p> + +<p>"But, John, it grieves me to hear you say that you need him."</p> + +<p>"Had to step back to pick that up, didn't you? Tom, after you're married +you'll find that your wife will look with coldness or contempt upon your +most intimate friend. It's the absurdest jealousy in woman's nature."</p> + +<p>"Thomas," said his mother, "you will find nothing of the sort; but I'll +tell you what you may expect from the right sort of a wife—contempt for +a coarse, low-bred fellow, should you insist upon holding him as your +closest companion."</p> + +<p>"Mother," Louise spoke up, "I think you are too severe. Mr. Batts is +hemmed in with faults,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> but he has many good points. And I can +understand why he is necessary to father. I am fond of him, and I am +almost ready to declare that at times he is almost necessary to me. No, +I won't make it as strong as that, but I must say that at times it is a +keen pleasure to jower with him."</p> + +<p>"To do what?" Mrs. Cranceford asked. "Jower with him? Where did you get +that word?"</p> + +<p>"It's one of his, picked up from among the negroes, I think, and it +means more than dispute or wrangle. We jower at times—quarrel a little +more than half in earnest."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the mother, "perhaps I ought not to say anything, but I +can't help it when I am so often hurt by that man's influence. Why, last +Sunday afternoon your father left the rector sitting here and went away +with that old sinner, and we heard them haw-hawing over in the woods. +But I won't say any more."</p> + +<p>"You never do, Margaret," the Major replied, winking at Louise. "But let +us drop him. So you saw Mayo, eh?" he added, turning to Tom.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, and I understand that he is coming back down here to prove to +the negroes that we are cheating them out of their earnings."</p> + +<p>The Major tossed a cigar to Tom, lighted one, and had begun to talk with +a rhetorical and sententious balancing of periods—which, to his mind, +full of the oratory of Prentiss, was the essence of impressiveness—when +a negro woman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> entered the room. And hereupon he changed the subject.</p> + +<p>When bedtime came the old gentleman stood on a rug in front of a large +fire-place, meditatively winding his watch. His wife sat on a +straight-back chair, glancing over the harmless advertisements in a +religious newspaper. In the parlor they had spent an agreeable evening, +with music and with never an allusion to an unpleasant subject, but +there was something finer than an allusion, and it had passed from +husband to wife and back again—a look at each other and a glance toward +Louise. But they had laughed at the girl's imitation of a cakewalk, and +yet in the minds of the father and the mother was the low echo of a +hollow cough. Affectionately she had kissed them good night, and had +started off down the hall in mimicry of a negro belle's walk, but they +had heard her door shut with a quick slam as if she were at last +impelled to be truthful with herself, to close herself in with her own +meditations.</p> + +<p>The Major hung his watch on a nail above the mantel-piece. From a +far-off nook of the sprawling old house came the pling-plang of the +boy's banjo.</p> + +<p>"Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear."</p> + +<p>"What did you say to her?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>She began to fold the newspaper. "I didn't say anything. She wouldn't +permit me."</p> + +<p>"What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"That she will do as she pleases."</p> + +<p>"Consoling, by the—consoling, I must say. But I tell you she won't. I +will shame her out of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p>The top of the cotton stalk glimmered with a purple bloom, but down +between the rows, among the dying leaves, the first bolls were opening. +The air was still hot, for at noontime the glare in the sandy road was +fierce, but the evening was cool, and from out in the gleaming dew came +a sweetly, lonesome chirrup, an alarm in the grass, the picket of the +insect army, crying the approach of frost. In the atmosphere was felt +the influence of a reviving activity; new cotton pens were built along +the borders of the fields, and the sounds of hammer and saw were heard +in the neighborhood of the gin-house. With the dusk of Saturday evening +"new" negroes came. In the city they had idled the summer away, +gambling, and had now come with nimble fingers to pick cotton during the +day and with tricky hands to throw dice at night. Gaunt, long-legged +birds flew from the North and awkwardly capered on a sand-bar. Afar off +there appeared to hover over the landscape a pall of thin, pale smoke; +but, like the end of the rainbow, it stole back from closer view, was +always afar off, lying low to the earth. The autumn rains had not yet +set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> in, and the water in the bayou was low and yellow. The summer +grapes were ripe, and in the cool, shaded coves at the base of the hills +the muscadine was growing purple. The mules, so over-worked during +plow-time, now stumbled down the lane, biting at one another. The +stiffening wind, fore-whistle of the season's change of tune, was shrill +amid the rushes at the edge of the swamp.</p> + +<p>It was a time to work, but also to muse and dream while working. In the +air was something that invited, almost demanded reverie. Upon the fields +there might lie many a mortgage, but who at such a time could worry over +the harsh exactions of debt?</p> + +<p>Nearly three weeks had passed, and not again in the Major's household +had Pennington's name been mentioned. But once, alone with his wife, the +Major was leading up to it when she held up her hands and besought him +to stop. "I can't bear to think of it," she said. "It stuns and +stupefies me. But it is of no use to say anything to her. She is of age +and she is head-strong."</p> + +<p>There was a dry rasp in the Major's throat. "Don't you think that to say +she is a crank would be hitting nearer the mark?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," his wife answered. "She is not a crank. She is a +remarkably bright woman."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she shows it. When a man does a fool thing he is weak, off, as +they say; but when a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> woman jumps out of the enclosure of common sense +we must say that she is bright."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to shame her out of it?"</p> + +<p>"I will, but she hasn't given me a chance. But we'll let it go. I +believe she has repented of her folly and is too much humiliated to make +a confession."</p> + +<p>His wife smiled sadly. "Don't you think so?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say that you are very calm over the situation."</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you that I was stunned and stupefied by it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's all right, and there's no use in worrying with it. Common +sense says that when you can't help a thing the best plan is to let it +go until a new phase is presented."</p> + +<p>And so they ceased to discuss the subject, but like a heavy weight it +lay upon them, and under it they may have sighed their worry, but they +spoke it not. From Tom this sentimental flurry had remained securely +hidden. Sometimes the grave tone of his father's words, overheard at +night, and his mother's distressful air, during the day, struck him with +a vague apprehension, but his mind was not keen enough to cut into the +cause of what he might have supposed to be a trouble; and so, he gave it +none of his time, so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> taken up with his banjo, his dogs, his sporting +newspaper, and his own sly love affair. In Louise's manner no change was +observed.</p> + +<p>One afternoon the Major, old Gid, and an Englishman named Anthony Low +were sitting on the porch overlooking the river when the Catholic priest +from Maryland, Father Brennon, stopped to get a drink of water. And he +was slowly making his way across the yard to the well when the Major +called him, urging him to come upon the porch and rest himself. "Wait," +the Major added, "and I'll have some water drawn for you."</p> + +<p>"I thank you," the priest replied, bowing, "but I prefer to draw it." +When he had drunk out of the bucket, he took a seat on the porch. He was +a man of middle age, grave, and sturdy. His eyes were thoughtful and his +smile was benevolent; his brow was high and broad, his nose large and +strong, and a determined conviction seemed to have molded the shape of +his mouth. His speech was slow, resonant, dignified; his accent of +common words was Southern, but in some of his phrases was a slight burr, +the subdued echo of a foreign tongue.</p> + +<p>The Englishman was a stocky young fellow, with light hair and reddish +side whiskers, a man of the world, doggedly careful in his use of +superlatives, but with a habit of saying, "most extraordinary." He had +rented an old plantation and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> lived alone in a dilapidated log house, +with his briar pipe, Scotch whisky, sole leather hatbox, and tin +bathtub. He had thought that it would be a sort of lark to grow a crop +of cotton, and had hired three sets of negroes, discharging them in turn +upon finding that they laughed at his ways and took advantage of his +inexperience. He had made his first appearance by calling one morning at +the Major's house and asking to be shown about the place. The Major +gladly consented to do this, and together they set out on horseback.</p> + +<p>The planter knew much of English hospitality, gathered from old +romances, and now was come the time to show a Britain what an American +gentleman could do. They rode down a lane, crossed a small field, and +halted under a tree; and there was a negro with whisky, mint and sugar. +They crossed a bayou, passed the "quarters," turned into the woods; and +there was another negro with whisky, mint and sugar. They rode across a +large field, and went through a gate, came to a spring; and there +waiting for them was a negro with liquor for a julep. They turned into +the "big" road, trotted along until they came to another spring, at +least three miles from the starting point; and there was a negro with +whisky, sugar and mint. But the Englishman's only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> comment was, "Ah, +most extraordinary, how that fellow can keep ahead of us, you know."</p> + +<p>Several months had elapsed, and the Major had called on Mr. Low, had +shouted at the yard-gate, had supposed that no one was at home, had +stalked into the wide open house and there had found the Englishman +sitting in his bathtub, reading Huxley. And to-day Mr. Low had come to +acknowledge the receipt of that visit.</p> + +<p>"You are on the verge of your busy season," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"Yes," the Major replied, "we begin picking to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"A beautiful view across the whitening fields," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"You ought to see my bayou field," old Gid spoke up. "It would make you +open your eyes—best in the state. Don't you think so, John?"</p> + +<p>"Well," the Major answered, "it is as good as any, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I tell you it's the best," Gid insisted. "And as a man of varied +experience I ought to know what best is. Know all about cotton. I gad, I +can look at a boll and make it open."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said the Englishman, "have you had any trouble with your +labor?"</p> + +<p>"With the negroes?" Gid asked. "Oh, no; they know what they've got to do +and they do it. But let a cog slip and you can have all the trouble you +want. I gad, you can't temporize<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> with a negro. He's either your servant +or your boss."</p> + +<p>"All the trouble you want," said the Englishman. "By Jove, I don't want +any. Your servant or your master. Quite remarkable."</p> + +<p>"Don't know how remarkable it is, but it's a fact all the same," Gid +replied. "You've had trouble, I understand."</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite a bit. I've had to drive them off a time or two; the rascals +laughed at me. Quite full of fun they were, I assure you. I had thought +that they were a solemn race. They are everywhere else except in +America."</p> + +<p>"It is singular," the Major spoke up, "but it is nevertheless true that +the American negro is the only species of the African race that has a +sense of humor. There's no humor in the Spanish negro, nor in the +English negro, nor in fact in the American negro born north of the Ohio +river, but the Southern negro is as full of drollery as a black bear."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, a little too full of it, I fancy," Mr. Low replied. "I +threatened them with the law, but they laughed the more and were really +worse in every respect after that."</p> + +<p>"With the law!" old Gid snorted. "What the deuce do they care about the +law, and what sort of law do you reckon could keep a man from laughing? +You ought to threatened them with a snake bone or a rabbit's foot."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I beg pardon. A snake bone or a rabbit's foot, did you say? I really +don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Yes, threaten to conjure them. That might have fetched them."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see. Quite extraordinary, I assure you."</p> + +<p>The priest began to talk, and with profound attention they turned to +him. He sat there with the mystery of the medieval ages about him, with +a great and silent authority behind him.</p> + +<p>"Have you gentlemen ever considered the religious condition of the +negro? Have you not made his religion a joke? Is it not a popular belief +that he will shout at his mourners' bench until midnight and steal a +chicken before the dawn? He has been taught that religion is purely an +emotion and not a matter of duty. He does not know that it means a life +of inward humanity and outward obedience. I have come to teach him this, +to save him; for in our church lies his only salvation, not alone of his +soul, but of his body and of his rights as well as of his soul. I speak +boldly, for I am an American, the descendant of American patriots. And I +tell you that the Methodist negro and the Baptist negro and the +Presbyterian negro are mere local issues; but the Catholic negro is +international—he belongs to the great nervous system of Rome; and +whenever Rome reaches out and draws him in, he is that moment removed as +a turbulent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> element from politics. Although slavery was long ago +abolished, there existed and to some small extent still exists a bond +between the white man and the black man of the South—a sort of family +tie; but this tie is straining and will soon be broken; a new generation +is coming, and the negro and the white man will be two antagonistic +forces, holding in common no sunny past—one remembering that his father +was a master, the other that his father was a slave. When that time +comes, and it is almost at hand, there will be a serious trouble growing +out of a second readjustment. The Anglo-Saxon race cannot live on a +perfect equality with any other race; it must rule; it demands complete +obedience. And the negro will resent this demand, more and more as the +old family ties are weakened. He has seen that his support at the North +was merely a political sentiment, and must know that it will not sustain +him in his efforts against capital, for capital, in the eye of capital, +is always just, and labor, while unfortunate, is always wrong. And when +the negro realizes this, remembering all his other wrongs, he will +become desperate. That is the situation. But is there no way to avert +this coming strife? I am here to say that there is. As communicants of +the Catholic Church the negroes will not listen to the labor agitator. +He will listen to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> the church, which will advise peace and submission to +proper authority."</p> + +<p>The priest had not gone far into his discourse before the Major began to +walk up and down the porch in front of him, nodding at him each time as +he passed. And when the clergyman ceased to speak, the Major, halting +and facing him, thus replied: "There may be some truth, sir, in what you +have said—there is some little truth in the wildest of speculation—but +I should like to ask you why is not a Protestant negro in a Protestant +country as safe as a Catholic negro in a Protestant country? You tell me +that your religion will protect the negro, and I ask you why it does not +protect the laborer in the North? You say that the Protestant negro in +the South is a local issue, and I ask you why is not a Catholic laborer +in the North an international issue? If the negro of the South, yielding +to your persuasion, is to become a part of the great nervous system of +Rome, why are not Catholic laborers everywhere a part of that system? I +think, sir, that you have shrewdly introduced a special plea. Your +church, with its business eyes always wide open, sees a chance to make +converts and is taking advantage of it. And I will not say that I will +oppose your cause. If the negro thinks that your church is better for +him than the Protestant churches have proved themselves to be, why I say +let him be taken in. I admit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> that we are not greatly concerned over the +negro's religion. We are satisfied with the fact that he has his +churches and that he has always been amply provided with preachers +agreeing with him in creed and color of skin. I will concede that his +professions of faith are regarded more or less in the light of a joke. +But I want to tell you one thing—that the negro's best friends live +here in the South. From us he knows exactly what to expect. He knows +that he cannot rule us—knows that he must work for a living. The lands +belong to the white man and the white man pays the taxes, and the white +man would be a fool to permit the negro to manage his affairs. Men who +dig in the coal mines of Pennsylvania don't manage the affairs of the +company that owns the mines. I cannot question the correctness of one of +your views—that the old tie is straining and may soon be broken. The +old negroes still regard us with a sort of veneration, but if the +younger ones show respect it is out of fear. Into this county a large +number of negroes have lately come from Mississippi and South Carolina. +They have been brought up on large plantations and have but a limited +acquaintance with the white man. Instinctively they hate him. And these +newcomers will listen to the voice of the agitator and by their example +will lead their brethren into trouble. You are right when you say that +the Anglo-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>Saxon race must rule. It will rule a community as it must +eventually rule the civilized world. But I don't see how your church is +to be the temporal as well as the spiritual salvation of the negro."</p> + +<p>The Major sat down; the priest smiled gravely, showing the shape into +which conviction and determination had molded his mouth. "My church is +not at all times able to prevent labor troubles in the North," said he, +"but it has often prevented the shedding of blood."</p> + +<p>"Ah," the Major broke in, "that may be true; and so has the influence of +the other churches. But what I want to know is this: How can you protect +a negro here more than you protect an Italian in the North?"</p> + +<p>"My dear sir, the Italian in the North is protected."</p> + +<p>"I grant you, but by the law rather than by the church."</p> + +<p>"But is not the church behind the law?" There was a shrewd twinkle in +the priest's eyes, and he was about to proceed with his talk when old +Gid snorted: "I gad, I hear that the public schools of the North are in +the hands of the Catholics, and if that's the case I reckon they've got +a pretty good hold on the court house. I understand that they daresn't +open a Bible in the public schools of Chicago; and they also tell me +that the children there have to learn Dutch.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> Zounds, ain't that enough +to make old Andy Jackson rattle his bones in his grave? I wish I had my +way for a few weeks. I'd show the world that this is America. I'd catch +low-browed wretches carrying all sorts of spotted and grid-ironed flags +through the streets. Dutch! Now, I'd just like to hear a child of mine +gabbling Dutch."</p> + +<p>The priest addressed himself to the Major: "You ask how we are to +protect the negro in the South. I will tell you—by teaching him that +except in the Catholic Church he cannot hope to find perfect equality. +Our communion knows no color—save red, and that is the blood of Christ. +Our religion is the only true democracy, but a democracy which teaches +that a man must respect himself before he should expect others to +respect him. But, my dear Major, I am not here to convince you, but to +convince the negro. He has been buffeted about by political parties, and +now it remains for the church to save him. One of these days an act +rather than a word may convince you."</p> + +<p>Tom had come out upon the porch. For a time he stood, listening, then +quickly stepping down into the yard, he gazed toward the dairy house, +into which, accompanied by a negro woman, had gone a slim girl, wearing +a gingham sun-bonnet. The girl came out, carrying a jug, and hastened +toward the yard gate. Tom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> heard the gate-latch click and then stepped +quickly to the corner of the house; and when out of sight he almost ran +to overtake the girl. She had reached the road, and she pretended to +walk faster when she heard his footsteps. She did not raise her eyes as +he came up beside her.</p> + +<p>"Let me carry the jug, Sallie."</p> + +<p>"No, I can carry it."</p> + +<p>"Give it to me."</p> + +<p>He took the jug and she looked up at him with a smile.</p> + +<p>"How's your uncle, Sallie?"</p> + +<p>"He ain't any better."</p> + +<p>Her uncle was Wash Sanders. Twenty years had passed since he had first +issued a bulletin that he was dying. He had liver trouble and a strong +combination of other ailments, but he kept on living. At first the +neighbors had confidence in him, and believed that he was about to pass +away, but as the weeks were stretched into years, as men who had been +strong and hearty were one by one borne to the grave, they began to lose +faith in Wash Sanders. All day long he would sit on his shaky verandah, +built high off the ground, and in answer to questions concerning his +health would answer: "Can't keep up much longer; didn't sleep a wink +last night. Don't eat enough to keep a chicken alive." His cows appeared +always to be dry, and every day he would send his niece, Sallie Pruitt,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +for a jug of buttermilk. He had but one industry, the tending and +scraping of a long nail on the little finger of his left hand. He had a +wife, but no children. His niece had recently come from the pine woods +of Georgia. Her hair looked like hackled flax and her eyes were large +and gray.</p> + +<p>"I didn't think you could see me," said the girl, taking off her bonnet +and swinging it as she walked, keeping a sort of time with it.</p> + +<p>"Why, you couldn't possibly come and get away without my seeing you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I could if it was night."</p> + +<p>"Not much. I could see you in the dark, you are so bright."</p> + +<p>"I'm not anything of the sort. Give me the jug and let me go on by +myself if you are goin' to make fun of me."</p> + +<p>She reached for the jug and he caught her hand, and walking along, held +it.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't want to hold anybody's hand that I'd made fun of," she said, +striving, though gently, to pull it away.</p> + +<p>"I didn't make fun of you. I said you were bright and you are. To me you +are the brightest thing in the world. Whenever I dream of you I awake +with my eyes dazzled."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't, no such of a thing."</p> + +<p>They saw a wagon coming, and he dropped her hand. He stepped to the +right, she to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> left, and the wagon passed between them. She looked +at him in alarm. "That's bad luck," she said.</p> + +<p>"What is?"</p> + +<p>"To let anything pass between us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it doesn't make any difference."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it does," she insisted. "No, you mustn't take my hand +again—you've let something pass between us."</p> + +<p>He awkwardly grabbed after her hand. She held it behind her, and about +her waist he pressed his arm. "Oh, don't do that. Somebody might see +us."</p> + +<p>"I don't care if the whole world sees us."</p> + +<p>"You say that now, but after awhile you'll care."</p> + +<p>"Never as long as I live. You know I love you."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do."</p> + +<p>"You might say you do, but you don't. But even if you do love me now you +won't always."</p> + +<p>"Yes, as long as I live."</p> + +<p>She looked up at him, and her eyes were full of beauty and tenderness. +"Your mother——"</p> + +<p>"None of that," he broke in. "I am my own master. To me you are the most +beautiful creature in the world, and——"</p> + +<p>"Somebody's comin'," she said.</p> + +<p>A horseman came round a bend in the road,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> and he stepped off from her, +but they did not permit the horseman to pass between them. He did not +put his arm about her again, for now they were within sight of her +uncle's desolate house. They saw Wash Sanders sitting on the verandah. +Tom carried the jug as far as the yard gate.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come in?" Sanders called.</p> + +<p>"I ought to be getting back, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Might come in and rest awhile."</p> + +<p>Tom hesitated a moment and then passed through the gate. The girl had +run into the house.</p> + +<p>"How are you getting along?" the young man asked as he began slowly to +tramp up the steps.</p> + +<p>"Porely, mighty porely. Thought I was gone last night—didn't sleep a +wink. And I don't eat enough to keep a chicken alive."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you like a mess of young squirrels?" Tom asked, as he sat down +in a hickory rocking chair. Of late he had become interested in Wash +Sanders, and had resented the neighbors' loss of confidence in him.</p> + +<p>"Well, you might bring 'em if it ain't too much trouble, but I don't +believe I could eat 'em. Don't eat enough to keep a chicken alive."</p> + +<p>He lifted his pale hand, and with his long finger nail scratched his +chin.</p> + +<p>"What's the doctor's opinion?" Tom asked, not knowing what else to say +and feeling that at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> that moment some expression was justly demanded of +him.</p> + +<p>"The doctors don't say anything now; they've given me up. From the first +they saw that I was a dead man. Last doctor that gave me medicine was a +fellow from over here at Gum Springs, and I wish I may die dead if he +didn't come in one of finishin' me right there on the spot."</p> + +<p>There came a tap at a window that opened out upon the verandah, and the +young fellow, looking around, saw the girl sitting in the "best room." +She tried to put on the appearance of having accidentally attracted his +attention. He moved his chair closer to the window.</p> + +<p>"How did you know I was in here?" she asked, looping back the white +curtain.</p> + +<p>"I can always tell where you are without looking."</p> + +<p>"Are you goin' to make fun of me again?"</p> + +<p>"If I could even eat enough to keep a chicken alive I think I'd feel +better," said Wash Sanders, looking far off down the road.</p> + +<p>"I never did make fun of you," the young fellow declared in a whisper, +leaning close to the window. "And I wish you wouldn't keep on saying +that I do."</p> + +<p>"I won't say it any more if you don't want me to."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I can't eat and can't sleep, and that settles it," said Wash +Sanders.</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't want you to say it. It makes me think that you are +looking for an excuse not to like me."</p> + +<p>"Would you care very much if I didn't like you?"</p> + +<p>"If I had taken another slug of that Gum Springs doctor's stuff I +couldn't have lived ten minutes longer," said Wash Sanders.</p> + +<p>And thus they talked until the sun was sinking into the tops of the +trees, far down below the bend in the river.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p>At the Major's house the argument was still warm and vigorous. But the +evening was come, and the bell-cow, home from her browsing, was ringing +for admittance at the barn-yard gate. The priest arose to go. At that +moment there was a heavy step at the end of the porch, the slow and +ponderous tread of Jim Taylor. He strode in the shadow and in the +gathering dusk recognition of him would not have been easy, but by his +bulk and height they knew him. But he appeared to have lost a part of +his great strength, and he drooped as he walked.</p> + +<p>"Where is the Major?" he asked, and his voice was hoarse.</p> + +<p>"Here, my boy. Why, what's the trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Let me see you a moment," he said, halting.</p> + +<p>The Major arose, and the giant, with one stride forward, caught him by +the arm and led him away amid the black shadows under the trees. Mrs. +Cranceford came out upon the porch and stood looking with cool +disapproval upon the priest. At a window she had sat and heard him +enunciate his views. Out in the yard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> Jim Taylor said something in a +broken voice, and the Major, madly bellowing, came bounding toward the +house.</p> + +<p>"Margaret," he cried, "Louise is married!"</p> + +<p>The woman started, uttered not a sound, but hastening to meet him, took +him by the hand. Jim Taylor came ponderously walking from amid the black +shadows. The Englishman and old Gid stole away. The priest stood calmly +looking upon the old man and his wife.</p> + +<p>"John, come and sit down," she said. "Raving won't do any good. We must +be seemly, whatever we are." She felt the eye of the priest. "Who told +you, Mr. Taylor?"</p> + +<p>"The justice of the peace. They were married about an hour ago, less +than half a mile from here."</p> + +<p>She led the Major to a chair, and he sat down heavily. "She shall never +darken my door again," he declared, striving to stiffen his shoulders, +but they drooped under his effort.</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, dear; don't say that. It is so cold and cruel."</p> + +<p>"But I do say it—ungrateful little wretch. It rises up within me and I +can't keep from saying it."</p> + +<p>The priest stepped forward and raised his hand. "May the blessings of +our Heavenly Father rest upon this household," he said. The woman looked +a defiance at him. He bowed and was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> gone. Jim Taylor stood with his +head hung low. Slowly he began to speak. "Major, you and your wife are +humiliated, but I am heart-broken. You are afflicted with a sorrow, but +I am struck down with grief. But I beg of you not to say that she shan't +come home again. Her marriage doesn't alter the fact that she is your +daughter. Her relationship toward you may not be so much changed, but to +me she is lost. I beg you not to say she shan't come home again."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford tenderly placed her hand on the giant's arm. He shook +under her touch.</p> + +<p>"I will say it and I mean it. She has put her feet on our love and has +thrown herself away, and I don't want to see her again. I do think she +is the completest fool I ever saw in my life. Yes, and we loved her so. +And Tom—it will break his heart."</p> + +<p>In the dusk the wife's white hand was gleaming—putting back the gray +hair from her husband's eyes. "And we still love her so, dear," she +said.</p> + +<p>"What!" he cried, and now his shoulders stiffened. "What! do you uphold +her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, but I am sorry for her, and I am not going to turn against her +simply because she has made a mistake. She has acted unwisely, but she +has not disgraced herself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, she has disgraced herself and the rest of us along with her. She +has married the dying son of a convict. I didn't want to tell you +this—I told her——"</p> + +<p>This was like a slap in the face, and for a moment she was bereft of the +cool dignity that had been so pronounced a characteristic of her quiet +life.</p> + +<p>"If you didn't tell me before why do you tell me now?" was her reply. +She stood back from him, regathering her scattered reserve, striving to +be calm. "But it can't be helped now, John." Her gentle dignity +reasserted itself. "Let time and the something that brightens hopes and +softens fears gradually soothe our affliction."</p> + +<p>She had taken up the Major's manner of speech. "Mr. Taylor, I have never +intimated such a thing to you before," she added, "but it was my hope +that she might become your wife. There, my dear man, don't let it tear +you so."</p> + +<p>The giant was shaken, appearing to be gnarled and twisted by her words, +like a tree in a fierce wind. "I talked to her about you," she +continued, "and it was my hope—but now let us be kind to her memory, if +indeed we are to regard her simply as a memory."</p> + +<p>"Margaret," said the Major, getting up and throwing back his leonine +head, "you are enough to inspire me with strength—you always have. But +while you may teach me to bear a trouble,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> you can't influence me to +turn counter to the demands of a just resentment. She shan't put her +foot in this house again. Jim, you can find a more suitable woman, sir. +Did you hear what became of them after that scoundrel married them? Who +performed the ceremony? Morris? He must never put his foot in my yard +again. I'll set the dogs on him. What became of them, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't hear, but I think that they must have driven to town in a +buggy."</p> + +<p>"Well, it really makes no difference what became of them. Are you going, +Jim?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Won't you stay with us to-night?"</p> + +<p>"No, I thank you. It's better for me to be alone." He hesitated. "If you +want me to I'll find out to-night where they've gone."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, do nothing of the sort, for I assure you that it makes no +difference. Let them go to the devil."</p> + +<p>"John, don't say that, please," his wife pleaded.</p> + +<p>"But I have said it. Well, if you are determined to go, good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night." Jim strode off into the darkness, but halted and turned +about. "Major, if I can forgive her you ought to," he said. "You've got +common sense to help you, but common sense was never known to help a man +that's in my fix."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>They heard the gate open, heard the latch click behind him as he passed +out into the road. Toward his lonely home he trod his heavy way, in the +sand, in the rank weeds, picking not his course, stumbling, falling once +to his knees. The air was full of the pungent scent of the walnut, +turning yellow, and in it was a memory of Louise. Often had he seen her +with her apron full of nuts that had fallen from the trees under which +he now was passing. He halted and looked about him. The moon was rising +and he saw some one sitting on a fence close by the road side. "Is that +you, Jim?" a voice called.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Batts?"</p> + +<p>"Yep, just about. Hopped up here to smell the walnuts. Takes me away +back. They took it pretty hard, didn't they?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, particularly the Major. His wife has more control over herself."</p> + +<p>"Or may be less affection," Gid replied. "They say she's strong, but I +call her cold. Hold on and I'll walk with you." He got down off the +fence and walked beside the giant. "She's a mighty strange woman to me," +the old man said when they had walked for a time in silence. "But +there's no question of the fact that she's strong, that is, as some +people understand strength. To me, I gad, there is more force in +affection than in restraint. She loves her children—no doubt about +that—and of course she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> thinks the world of the Major, but somehow she +misjudges people. She doesn't understand me at all. But I reckon the +majority of men are too deep for a woman. I didn't want to see them in +the throes of their trouble, and I says to the Englishman, 'it's time to +git,' and we got. He wanted me to go over to his house and get some +Scotch whisky. I told him that the last rain must have left some water +in a hollow stump near my house, and that I preferred it to his +out-landish drink. And hanged if he didn't think I was in earnest. Yes, +sir, I knew that girl would marry him; and let me tell you, if I was a +youngster I would rather have her love than the love of any woman I ever +saw. There's something about her I never saw in any other woman—I gad, +she's got character; understand me? She ain't beautiful, hardly +handsome, but there's something about her, hanged if I know what it is. +But it's something; and I've always found that the strongest charm about +a woman is a something that you can't exactly catch—something that is +constantly on the dodge. And you bet I've had lots of experience. The +Major could tell you many a story on me. Yes, sir. Say, Jim, I know how +you feel over this affair, and I want you to understand that I'm your +friend, first, last and all the time. I've been trying to talk up to the +right place, but now I don't exactly know what to say."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't say anything, Uncle Gideon."</p> + +<p>"I reckon that would be about the wisest plan. Just wanted to let you +know where to find me. Strange things happen even in this quiet +community, don't they? But I'm woefully sorry that this special thing +has happened. I gad, the Major snorted so loud that my horse broke loose +from the post, and that's the reason I'm stepping around here like a +blind dog in a meat house. Begin pickin' to-morrow, I reckon?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I had made all my arrangements, but now after what's +happened I don't care whether there's a boll picked or not. I'm let +down."</p> + +<p>"Don't feel that way, old fellow. You'll be all right in a day or two."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Batts, if I didn't know that you were trying to soothe me I would +take that remark as an insult. If I thought I wasn't any more steadfast +than to be all right in a day or two—if I really believed my character +that light, I swear I'd go this minute and drown myself."</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear boy, you know I didn't mean to infer that your heart had +no more memory than that. What I meant was that your sense of +resignation would demand a hearing, so to speak. Let me tell you +something. I understand that girl better than her father or mother +does—I have made her a special study, and I want to tell you that when +I take the trouble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> to throw my mind on a woman a mystery has to be +cleared right then and there. And this is what I want to say: She has +married that fellow out of pity. I don't believe she loves him. Always +was ruled by pity. Recollect hearing the Major tell of a sudden streak +of misfortune that overtook his family when he was a child. His father +had to sell several of his slaves, and his old black mammy stood on the +block with him in her arms while they were auctioning her off. Well, +sir, Louise cried about that fit to kill herself. We told her how long +ago it had happened, and impressed on her the fact that the old woman +was soon bought back, but she kept on crying over the cruelty of the +thing. Yes, sir. Well, I turn off here. Good night."</p> + +<p>In the dark the Major walked about the yard mournfully calling Tom. A +negro woman said that she had seen him going down the road, and the old +gentleman returned to the porch and sat down. In the sitting room a lamp +was burning, and a patch of light fell about his chair. He wanted to +tell the young man of the trouble that had fallen upon the household, +and yet he dreaded to hear his footstep. Tom was so proud of his sister, +had always looked up to her, had regarded her whims as an intellectual +diversion; and now what a disappointment. How sadly would his heart be +wrung. From a distant room came the pling-plang of a banjo.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's Tom, Margaret. Will you please tell him to come here? I don't +want to see him in the light."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford hastened to obey, and the Major sat listening. He pushed +his chair back out of the patch of light. The banjo hushed its twanging, +and then he heard Tom coming. The young man stepped out upon the porch. +His mother halted in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Tom," said the Major, "I have a desperate piece of news, and I wish I +could break it to you gently, but there is no way to lead up to it. Your +sister has married Carl Pennington."</p> + +<p>"Yes, so Jim Taylor told me. Met him in the road a while ago. I didn't +know that there was anything of the sort on hand. Must have kept it +mighty quiet. I suppose——"</p> + +<p>"What, you suppose! What the deuce can you suppose! Stand there +supposing when I tell you that she has married a dying man." The old +gentleman flounced in his chair. "She has thrown herself away and I tell +you of it and you want to suppose. What's the matter with you? Have you +lost all your pride and your sense? She has married a dying man, I tell +you."</p> + +<p>The young fellow began awkwardly to twist himself about. He looked at +his mother, standing in the door with the light pouring about her, but +her eyes were turned from him, gazing far<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> away into the deepening +night. "I know they might think he's dying," he said, "but they might be +mistaken. Sometimes they believe a man's dying and he keeps on living. +Wash Sanders——"</p> + +<p>"Go back to your banjo, you idiot!" the Major shouted. "I'll swear this +beats any family on the face of the earth." He got up, knocking over his +chair. "Go on. Don't stand there trying to splutter an explanation of +your lack of sense! No wonder you have always failed to pass an +examination. Not a word, Margaret. I know what you are going to say: +Beats any family on the face of the earth."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p>On the morrow there was a song and a chant in the cotton fields. Aged +fingers and youthful hands were eager with grabbing the cool, +dew-dampened fleece of the fields. The women wore bandana handkerchiefs, +and picturesquely down the rows their red heads were bobbing. Whence +came their tunes, so quaintly weird, so boisterous and yet so full of +melancholy? The composer has sought to catch them, has touched them with +his refining art and has spoiled them. The playwright has striven to +transfer from the field to the stage a cotton-picking scene and has made +a travesty of it. To transfer the passions of man and to music-riddle +them is an art with stiff-jointed rules, but the charm of a +cotton-picking scene is an essence, and is breathed but cannot be +caught. Here seems to lie a sentiment that no other labor invites, and +though old with a thousand endearments, it is ever an opera rehearsed +for the first time. But this is the view that may be taken only by the +sentimentalist, the poet loitering along the lane. To him it is a +picture painted to delight the eye, to soothe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> the nerves, to inspire a +pastoral ode. There is, however, another side. At the edge of the field +where the cotton is weighed, stands the planter watching the scales. His +commercial instincts might have been put to dreamy sleep by the +appearance of the purple bloom, but it is keenly aroused by the opening +boll. He is influenced by no song, by no color fantastically bobbing +between the rows. He is alert, determined not to be cheated. Too much +music might cover a rascally trick, might put a clod in the cotton to be +weighed. Sentiment is well enough, and he can get it by turning to +Walter Scott.</p> + +<p>None of the planters was shrewder than the Major. In his community he +was the business as well as the social model. He was known to be brave +and was therefore expected to be generous. His good humor was regarded +as an echo of his prosperity, and a lucky negro, winning at dice, would +strive to imitate his manner. At planting, at plowing and at gathering, +no detail was too small or too illusive to escape his eye. His interests +were under a microscopic view and all plans that were drawn in the +little brick office at the corner of the yard, were rigorously carried +out in the fields. In the one place he was all business; in the other +there was in him an admixture of good humor and executive thoroughness. +He knew how many pounds of cotton a certain man or woman was likely to +pick within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> the working hours of a day, and he marked the clean and the +trashy pickers; and the play of his two-colored temperament was seen in +his jovial banter of the one and his harsh reprimand of the other. But +to-day a hired man stood at the scales to see the cotton weighed. The +Major walked abroad throughout the fields. As he drew near, the negroes +hushed their songs and their swaggering talk. They bowed respectfully to +him and to one another whispered his affliction. At noon, when he +returned home, the housekeeper told him that his wife was away. He sat +down in the library to wait for her. Looking out he saw Sallie Pruitt +carrying a jug across the yard. A few moments later he asked for Tom and +was told that he had just left the house. He tried to read, but nothing +interested him. There was nothing but dullness in the newspaper and even +Ivanhoe had lost his charm. It was nearly three o'clock when Mrs. +Cranceford returned. He did not ask whither she had gone; he waited to +be told. She sat down, taking off her gloves.</p> + +<p>"Did you see Mr. Perdue?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I have seen no one. Don't care much to see any one."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know but you might have met him. He was here this morning. +Told me about Louise."</p> + +<p>"What does he know about her?"</p> + +<p>"He told me where she had gone to live—in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> that old log house at the +far end of the Anthony place."</p> + +<p>"Well, go on, I'm listening."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that you cared to hear."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you begin to tell me?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer this question. She waited for him to say more. "Of +course I'd like to know what has become of her."</p> + +<p>"I went over to see her," said Mrs. Cranceford.</p> + +<p>"The deuce you did."</p> + +<p>"John, don't talk that way."</p> + +<p>"I won't. You went to see her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and in that miserable house, all open, she is nursing her dying +husband."</p> + +<p>The Major got up and began to walk about the room. "Don't, Margaret, I'd +rather not hear about it."</p> + +<p>"But you must hear. No place could be more desolate. The wind was +moaning in the old plum thicket. The gate was down and hogs were rooting +in the yard. Louise did not hear me as I drove up, the wind was moaning +so distressfully among the dead plum bushes—she did not know that I was +on the place until I entered the room where she sat at the bedside of +her husband. She jumped up with a cry and——"</p> + +<p>"Margaret, please don't."</p> + +<p>"I must tell you, John. I will tell you. She jumped up with a cry and +ran to me, and started to take off my cloak, but remembering that there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +was no fire in the damp room, she let it stay on. She tried to speak, +but couldn't. Her husband held out his waxen hand, and when I took it I +shuddered with the cold chill it sent through me."</p> + +<p>"Margaret, I am going out," said the Major, turning toward the door.</p> + +<p>"If you do, John, I will go with you and tell you as we walk along. +Please sit down."</p> + +<p>He sat down with an air of helplessness. He fumbled with his fingers, +which seemed to have grown thicker; he moved his foot as if it were a +heavy weight. His wife continued: "In the room there was scarcely any +furniture, nothing to soften the appearance of bleakness. I asked why no +fire had been made, and Louise said that she had engaged a negro to cut +some wood, but that he had gone away. She had paid him in advance. She +would herself have kindled a fire, but there was no axe on the place, +and she was afraid to leave her husband long enough to go to the woods +to gather sticks. I went out and found the negro dozing in the sun. He +was impudent when I spoke to him, but when I told him my name and +threatened him with you, he scuffled to his feet and sauntered off, and +I thought that we should see no more of him, but soon we heard the lazy +strokes of his axe. And shortly afterward we had a fire. Louise was in +one of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> silent moods, but Pennington talked as much as his cough +would permit him. He said that it was all his fault. 'I told her,' said +he, 'that unless she married me I would die blaspheming the name of God, +and that if she would save me from hell she must be my wife. I know that +it was selfish and mean, but I couldn't help it. And so she has married +me to save my soul.' He grew excited and I tried to calm him. I told him +that you were angry at first, but that now you were in a better humor +toward him."</p> + +<p>"Margaret——"</p> + +<p>"This appeared to help him, but I saw that Louise did not believe me. +However, I commanded her to come home and bring her husband with her. +But she shook her head and declared that she would never again enter +your house until she could in some way discharge the debt of gratitude +with which you reproached her, which she says you flaunted in her face +at a time when she was greatly distressed."</p> + +<p>"What! I don't exactly understand."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do, dear. You reminded her that you had saved her life, and +told her that you based your plea for obedience upon your own +gallantry."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was a piece of mere nonsense, a theatrical trick. Of course I +don't deserve any credit for having saved the life of my own child."</p> + +<p>"It may have been a theatrical trick with you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> but it wasn't with her. +She keenly feels your reproach."</p> + +<p>"Confound it, you are both making a monster of me."</p> + +<p>"No, dear, that is not our design."</p> + +<p>"Our design! Have you too, set yourself against me? Let me go to old +Gideon. He's the only friend I've got."</p> + +<p>"John, you mustn't say that. And why, at this time, should you refer to +that old sinner? But let me go on. While I was there the doctor came, +and shortly afterward we heard a heavy tread on the flapping boards of +the passageway that divides the two sections of the old house."</p> + +<p>"Jim Taylor," said the Major.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jim Taylor. Louise jumped up in a flutter. He didn't take any +notice of her excitement. 'I heard that you were living here,' he said, +'and knowing what sort of an old place it is, I've come to see if I can +be of any use to you.' Here he looked about at the cracks in the walls +and the holes in the roof. 'And you'll pardon me,' he went on, 'but I +took the liberty to bring a carpenter along to patch up things a little. +That's him out there at work on the gate.' Louise began to cry. He +pretended not to notice her. 'It won't take long to make this a very +comfortable place,' he went on, 'and I hope you won't feel offended, but +I have brought some young chickens and a squirrel or two—in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> a basket +out there in the kitchen. I always was a sort of a neighborly fellow you +know.' 'You are the best man in the world,' Louise broke out. 'No, not +in the world, but I reckon I can stand flat-footed and lift with the +most of them,' he replied, assuming that he thought she referred to his +strength. 'Yes,' he continued, 'and the boys will be here pretty soon +with the wagon to haul you some wood. And I hope you'll pardon me again, +but nothing would do old Aunt Nan but she must come over to cook for you +and help you take care of Mr. Pennington until he gets about again. +She's the best cook in the whole country. You know the governor of the +state once said that she could beat anybody frying a chicken, and——'"</p> + +<p>"Confound his impudence!" exclaimed the Major, grinding the floor as he +wheeled about, "he's performing the offices that belong to me. And I +won't stand it."</p> + +<p>"The offices that did belong to you, dear, but you have washed your +hands of them."</p> + +<p>"Have I? Well, we'll see about that. I'll send over there and have +everything put to rights. No, I'll send the carriage and have them +brought home. I'll be—I say I won't be made a scape-goat of in this +way. Why, confound——"</p> + +<p>"John."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand, but I won't put up with it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> any longer. I'll send +Tom over there—I'll send the law over there and bring them home under +arrest."</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "No, it will be of no use to send for them. Louise +will not come, and you know she won't. Besides, we can make her just as +comfortable there as here. It will not be for long, so let her have her +own way."</p> + +<p>"By the blood, she has had it!"</p> + +<p>"John, have you forgotten that you are a member of the church?"</p> + +<p>"That's all right. But do you mean by member of the church that I am to +draw in my head like a high-land terrapin every time anything is said to +me? Am I to be brow-beaten by everybody just because I belong to the +church? Oh, it's a happy day for a woman when she can squash her husband +with the church. I gad, it seems that all a married woman wants with a +church is to hit her husband on the head with it."</p> + +<p>"John, now you are the echo of old Gid."</p> + +<p>"I'm not and you know it, but there are times when a man would be +excusable for being the echo of the devil. But for gracious sake don't +cry. Enough to make a man butt his head against the wall. Just as a man +thinks a woman is stronger than a lion she tunes up and cries. There, +Margaret, let it all go. There." He put his arm about her. "Everything +will come out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> all right. I am wrong and I confess it. I am bull-headed +and as mean as a dog."</p> + +<p>"No, you are not," she protested, wiping her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am and I see it now. You are always right. And you may manage +this affair just as you see fit. Poor little girl. But never mind, it +will all come right. Let us walk down the lane. It is beautiful down +there. The frost has painted things up for you; the sumac bushes are +flaming and the running briars on the fences are streams of fire. Come +on." He took her by the hand and led her away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p>Within a few days a great change was wrought in the appearance of the +old log house. The roof, which had been humped in the middle like the +back of a lean, acorn-hunting hog, was straightened and reshingled; the +yard was enclosed with a neat fence; and the stack chimney which had +leaned off from the house as if it would fall, was shoved back and held +in place with strong iron bands. And the interior was transformed. Soft +carpets were spread, easy chairs provided, the rough walls were papered +and the windows were curtained. The fire-light fell upon pictures, and a +cat had come to take her place at the corner of the hearth; but in the +dead of night, when all the birds were hushed, when the wind moaned in +the plum thicket, the hollow and distressing cough echoed throughout the +house. At evening sorrowful-looking cows would come down the lane, and +standing at the gate would low mournfully, an attention which they ever +seek to pay a dismal place, but Jim Taylor entered a complaint, +threatened violence and finally compelled their owners to have them +driven home before the arrival of their time for lonesome lowing. It was +Jim's custom to call<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> at morning and at evening. Sometimes, after +looking about the place, he would merely come to the door and ask after +Mr. Pennington and then go away.</p> + +<p>One morning when Louise answered his tap at the door, she told him that +the sufferer was much better and that she believed he was going to get +well.</p> + +<p>"I'm mighty glad to hear it," he replied. "The doctors can't always +tell."</p> + +<p>"Won't you come in?"</p> + +<p>"No, I might worry him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not in the least. He's asleep anyway, and I'm lonesome. Come in, +please."</p> + +<p>He followed her into the house, trying to lessen his weight as if he +were walking on thin ice; and the old house cracked its knuckles, but +his foot-fall made not a sound. She placed a chair for him and sat down +with her hands in her lap, and how expressive they were, small and thin, +but shapely. She was pale and neat in a black gown. To him she had never +looked so frail, and her eyes had never appeared so deeply blue, but her +hands—he could not keep his eyes off them—one holding pity and the +other full of appeal.</p> + +<p>"Don't you need a little more wood on?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, it's not cold enough for much fire."</p> + +<p>"Where did you get that cat?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She came crying around the other day and I let her in, and she has made +herself at home."</p> + +<p>"The negroes say it's good luck for a cat to come to the house." She +sighed. "I don't believe in luck."</p> + +<p>"I do. I believe in bad luck, for it's generally with me. Does your +mother come every day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, although I beg her not to."</p> + +<p>"I reckon she'll do about what she wants to. Has the Major——"</p> + +<p>She held up her hand and he sat looking at her with his mouth half open. +But at the risk of offending her, he added: "I didn't know but he might +have come over."</p> + +<p>"He would, but I won't let him."</p> + +<p>"And do you think it's exactly right not to let him?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is exactly right to do as a something within me dictates," +she answered. "He placed me in a certain position——"</p> + +<p>"But he is more than willing to take you out of it," Taylor broke in. +"He doesn't want you to remain in that position."</p> + +<p>"No, he can't take me out of it. He charged me with ingratitude, and I +would rather he had driven me off the place. Nothing can be much crueler +than to remind one of ingratitude; it is like shooting from behind a +rock; it is having one completely at your mercy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now she sat leaning forward with her hands clasped over her knees. +Pennington coughed slightly in his sleep and she looked toward the bed. +She straightened up and put the hair back out of her eyes and Taylor +followed the motion of her hand.</p> + +<p>"Did he eat the squirrel?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and enjoyed it."</p> + +<p>The cat got up, stretched, and rubbing against the tongs, knocked them +down with a clatter. Pennington awoke. Louise was beside him in a +moment. "Ah, it's you, Mr. Taylor," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but it wasn't me that made the noise."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it didn't disturb me, I assure you. I was just about waking up +anyway. That will do, thank you." Louise had begun to arrange the +pillows. "I'll sit up. See how strong I am. Give me a pipe. I believe I +can smoke a little."</p> + +<p>She went to fill a pipe for him, and turning to Taylor, he said: "I'm +getting stronger now every day; good appetite, sleep first-rate. And +I'll be able to walk about pretty soon. Oh, they had me dead, you know, +but I knew better all the time."</p> + +<p>Louise placed a coal upon his pipe and handed it to him. She said that +she was afraid it might make him cough, but it did not.</p> + +<p>"I have always maintained that there was nothing the matter with my +lungs," he said, contentedly blowing rings of smoke. "Why, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> hadn't a +symptom of consumption except the cough, and that's about gone. And my +prospects were never better than they are this minute. Received a letter +yesterday from over in Alabama—want me to take a professorship in a +college. The first thing you know I shall have charge of the entire +institution. And when I get up in the world I want it understood, Mr. +Taylor, that I shall never forget you. Your kindness——"</p> + +<p>"Don't speak of it," Taylor put in, holding up his hand in imitation of +Louise. "I've known this little lady, sir, all her life, and I'd be a +brute to forget her in time of trouble."</p> + +<p>"Yon are a true-hearted man, Mr. Taylor, and I shall never forget you, +sir." And after a short silence, he added: "All I desire is a chance, +for with it, I can make Louise happy. I need but little money, I should +not know how to disport a large fortune, but I do desire a comfortable +home with pictures and books. And I thank the Lord that I appreciate the +refinements of this life." In silence he smoked, looking up at the +rings. "Ah, but it was dark for me a short time ago, Mr. Taylor. They +made me believe that I was going to die. We hear a great deal of +resignation, of men who welcome the approach of death, but I was in +despair. And looking upon a strong man, a man whose strength was thrown +upon him, a man who had never thought to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> take even the slightest care +of himself, I was torn with blasphemous rage. It wasn't right. But thank +God, I lived through that dark period, and am now getting well. Don't +you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I can see it. And I'll tell you what we'll do: I'll bring +over the dogs pretty soon and we'll go hunting. How does that strike +you?"</p> + +<p>Pennington propped himself higher in the bed and put his pipe on a +chair. "It has been a long time since I went hunting," he said, +musingly. "It seems a long time since I have done anything, except to +brood over my failing health. But I will have no more of that. Yes, I +will go hunting with you." He shoved up the sleeve of his shirt and +called his wife's attention. "Don't you think I'm getting more flesh on +my arm? Look here. No dying man has this much muscle. Louise, I'm going +to get up. There is really no use of my lying here."</p> + +<p>He threw off the covers and the giant arose and stood looking upon him, +smiling sadly. He asked for his clothes, and when Louise had brought +them he picked at a worn spot and said: "I must get some clothes with +the first money I earn. I didn't know that this coat was so far gone. +Why, look, it is almost threadbare; and the trousers are not much +better. Let a man get sick and he feels that the world is against him; +let him get well and wear poor clothes, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> he will find that the world +doesn't think enough of him to set itself against him—find that the +world does not know him at all."</p> + +<p>Taylor ventured upon the raveled platitude that clothes do not make the +man. Pennington shook his head, still examining his trousers. "That will +do in a copy-book, but not in life," said he. And then looking up as +Taylor moved toward the door, he asked: "Are you going?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I must get back to see how things are getting along. Be over again +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Louise went with him out into the passage. He halted at the log step and +stood there, looking at her. "Mr. Taylor, I can never forget your +kindness," she said.</p> + +<p>"All right, but I hope you won't remember to mention it again."</p> + +<p>He looked at her hands, looked into her eyes; and frankly she returned +his gaze, for it was a gaze long and questioning.</p> + +<p>"Your friendship——" he held up his hand to stop her. "Won't you let me +speak of that, either?"</p> + +<p>"You may speak of it, but you must know that it does not exist," he +answered, leaning against a corner of the house, still looking at her.</p> + +<p>"But you don't mean that you are not my friend?"</p> + +<p>"I mean what I told you some time ago—that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> there can be no friendship +between a big man and a little woman."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had forgotten that."</p> + +<p>"No, you hadn't; you thought of it just then as you spoke."</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Taylor, how can you say that?"</p> + +<p>"I can say it because it is true. No, there can be no friendship between +us."</p> + +<p>"You surely don't mean that there can be anything else." She had drawn +back from him and was stiffly erect with her arms folded, her head high; +and so narrow was the hard look she gave him that her eyes appeared +smaller. Her lips were so tightly compressed that dimples showed in her +cheeks; and thus with nature's soft relics of babyhood, she denied her +own resentment.</p> + +<p>"On your part I don't presume that there can be anything else," he +answered, speaking the words slowly, as if he would weigh them one at a +time on the tip of his tongue. "You may think of me as you please, as +circumstances now compel you to think, and I will think of you not as I +please, but as I must."</p> + +<p>"Please don't talk that way. Don't reproach me when I am in such need +of—of friendship. One of these days you may know me better, but now you +can regard me only as a freak. Yes, I am a freak."</p> + +<p>"You are an angel."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Taylor!" Again her head was high, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> in her eyes was the same +suggestion of a sharp squint.</p> + +<p>"You didn't tell me that I shouldn't think of you as I please."</p> + +<p>"But I didn't tell you to speak what you might be pleased to think. +There, Carl is calling me. Good-bye."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p>Jim Taylor, too humane to impose the burden of his weight upon a horse, +always made his visits on foot, and this day while trudging homeward, he +met Mrs. Cranceford. She had of late conceived so marked a sympathy for +him, that her manner toward him was warmly gentle.</p> + +<p>Taylor stepped to the road-side and halted there as she drove up alone +in a buggy. With a sorrowful reverence he took off his hat, and she +smiled sympathetically; and the lazy old horse, appearing to understand +it all, stopped of his own accord.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Jim. Have you been over to the house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'm, just left there."</p> + +<p>"How is he?"</p> + +<p>"So much better that I believe he's going to get well."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so! Why, I am——" she was about to say that she was +delighted to hear it, but on the giant's face she thought she saw a +deeper shadow lying, heard in his voice a softer note of sorrow; and +considerately she checked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> her intended utterance. Then they looked at +each other and were ashamed.</p> + +<p>"He was up dressing himself when I left."</p> + +<p>"You surprise me."</p> + +<p>"And he has surprised us all, ma'm. I don't believe he's got +consumption; his cough has left him. Why, he's thinking of taking a +place in a college over in Alabama."</p> + +<p>"He is? But I hope he won't take Louise so far from home."</p> + +<p>He shifted his position and sunk his hands deep into his pockets. "I +guess he thinks she can't be so very far from home as long as she is +with him."</p> + +<p>"But it makes no difference what he thinks." Mrs. Cranceford persisted. +"He must not take her over there. Why, I should think he could find +employment here." Jim looked far away, and she added: "Is your cotton +turning out well?"</p> + +<p>"First-rate, and I want to sell it as soon as I can. I've got to go +away."</p> + +<p>"Go away!" she repeated. "You don't mean it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'm, I do. If he gets well they won't have any more use for me +and I might as well go off somewhere and take a fresh start; and +besides, I can't keep from showing that I love her, and no matter how +cool she might be toward me it couldn't help but pain him. And there are +people in this neighborhood mean enough to talk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> about it: No longer ago +than yesterday that strapping Alf Joyner threw out a hint of this sort, +and although he meant it in fun, maybe, I snatched him off the fence +where he was sitting, and walloped him in the road. No, I can't keep +from showing how much I think of her; there is so much of me," he added, +with a smile, "that I can't be a hypercrite all over at once."</p> + +<p>At this she smiled, but her countenance grew serious and she said:</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you have been compelled to resent an insinuation." She +gathered up the lines. "But perhaps you imagine more than is intended. +It is easy, and also natural that you should."</p> + +<p>Jim made no reply. She bowed to him, shook the lines, and the old horse +moved on. Just before reaching a bend in the road, she looked back at +him. How powerful was his bearing, how strong his stride; and with all +his bigness he was not ungraceful.</p> + +<p>Everywhere, in the fields, along the fences, lay October's wasteful +ripeness, but the season was about to turn, for the bleak corner of +November was in sight. A sharp wind blew out of a cloud that hung low +over the river, and far away against the darkening sky was a gray +triangle traced, the flight of wild geese from the north. With the +stiffening and the lagging of the breeze came lower and then louder the +puffing of a cotton gin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>Under a persimmon tree Jim Taylor halted, and with his arms resting on a +fence he stood dreamily looking across a field. Afar off the cotton +pickers were bobbing between the rows. The scene was more dull than +bright; to a stranger it would have been dreary, the dead level, the +lone buzzard away over yonder, sailing above the tops of the ragged +trees; but for this man the view was overspread with a memory of +childhood. He was meditating upon leaving his home; he felt that his +departure was demanded. And yet he knew that not elsewhere could he find +contentment. Amid such scenes he had been born and reared. He was like +the deer—would rather feed upon the rough oak foliage of a native +forest than to feast upon the rich grasses of a strange land. But he had +made up his mind to go. He had heard of the charm of the hills, the +valleys and the streams in the northern part of the state, and once he +had gone thither to acquaint himself with that paradise, but in +disappointment he had come back, bringing the opinion that the people +were cold and unconcerned in the comfort and the welfare of a stranger. +So, with this experience fresh in his mind, he was resolved not to +re-settle in his own commonwealth, but to go to a city, though feeling +his unfitness for urban life. But he thought, as so many men and women +have been forced to think, that life in a crowd would invite +forgetfulness, that his slow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> broodings would find a swift flow into the +tide that swallows the sad thoughts of men.</p> + +<p>A sudden noise in the road broke the web of his musing, and looking +about, he recognized Low, the Englishman. Between his teeth the Briton +held his straight-stem pipe, and on his shoulder he carried his bath +tub.</p> + +<p>"Moving?" Taylor asked.</p> + +<p>"Ah, good morning. No—not moving. An outrage has been committed. During +the night someone punched a hole in the bottom of my bath. Don't know +who could have done it; most extraordinary, I assure you. One of those +ungrateful blacks, I warrant. Going this way? I shall be glad of your +company. Ah, do you happen to know of a tinker?" he asked, as together +they walked along the road.</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A tinker to mend my bath?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't any such thing about here, but I guess the blacksmith can mend +your tub. Here, let me carry it for you a ways. You must be tired of it +by this time."</p> + +<p>He protested, but Taylor took the tub. "Thank you. You are very kind, +I'm sure. I would have sent it, but these rascals are so untrustworthy. +Ah, how long do you conjecture it would take one to make his fortune in +this community?"</p> + +<p>"It depends more upon the man than the com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>munity," Taylor answered. "I +know one that never could."</p> + +<p>"And by Jove, I fancy I have a very intimate acquaintance with another. +But I rather like it here, you know. I have plenty of room and no one is +much disposed to interfere with me except those rascally blacks, and +upon my honor I believe they tried to ruin my bath. Don't you think +you'd better let me take it now?"</p> + +<p>"No; I'll carry it. Wouldn't have known I had it if you hadn't reminded +me."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, I'm sure. Ah, by the way, a very singular man called +on me yesterday. Mayo, I believe, is his name."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we know him down here. Came very near getting a dose of rope once. +He tries to be a Moses among the negroes, but instead of leading them +out of the wilderness he's going to lead them into trouble."</p> + +<p>"I dare say as much, if they listen to him. But he avers that he doesn't +want an office—wants only to see that the blacks get what they are +entitled to."</p> + +<p>"And about the first thing that will be done for him after he gets what +he's entitled to," Jim replied, "will be the sending of his measure to a +coffin maker."</p> + +<p>"I surmise as much, I assure you. I didn't encourage him to prolong his +visit; indeed, I told him that I preferred to be alone."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<p>They turned out of the lane into a wood, crossed a bayou, and pursuing +their way a short distance further, Taylor halted, and handing the +Englishman his tub, pointed to a path that crossed the road. "That will +take you to the blacksmith shop," he said.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are very kind," Low replied, shouldering his treasure. He +turned down the path, but after going a short distance stopped and faced +about. "I say, there!" he cried. "Oh, Taylor. Just a moment. I wouldn't +mind having you over any evening, you know. You are a devilish decent +fellow."</p> + +<p>"All right; you may look for me most any time. Take you out 'possum +hunting some night."</p> + +<p>Low was now humping himself down the path, and Taylor turned to pursue +his way homeward, when once more the Englishman faced about and shouted: +"You are very kind, I'm sure. I shall be delighted."</p> + +<p>Jim Taylor was master of a small plantation and sole inhabiter of the +house wherein he was born. In the garden, under a weeping-willow tree, +were the graves of his parents and of his sister, a little girl, +recalled with emotion—at night when a high wind was blowing, for she +had ever been afraid of a storm; and she died on a day when a fierce +gale up the river blew down a cottonwood tree in the yard. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> and +Louise were as sisters. At her grave the giant often sat, for she was a +timid little creature, afraid to be alone; and sometimes at night when +the wind was hard, when a cutting sleet was driving, he would get out of +his bed and stand under the tree to be near her. It was so foolishly +sentimental of so strong a man that he would not have dared to tell +anyone, but to the child in the grave he told his troubles. So, on this +morning, when the wind was gathering its forces as it swept the fields, +as the clouds were thickening far away among the whitish tops of the +dead cypress trees, he went straightway to the weeping-willow, passed +the grave of his father, his mother, and sat down beside the stone that +bore the name and the age of the little one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p>When Mrs. Cranceford returned home early in the afternoon, she told the +Major, whom she found pacing up and down the long porch, that Pennington +was up and walking about the house. She told him, also, that he was +resolved upon taking Louise to Alabama, and added that she herself would +oppose this determination up to the very moment of departure.</p> + +<p>The Major grunted. "What right have you to do that?" he asked. "Why +should you meddle with the affairs of a man that is seeking to make a +living for his wife?"</p> + +<p>"John, you are laughing at me and I know it. Here lately you make light +of everything I say."</p> + +<p>The season was changing, he felt its influence, and he shook with good +humor as he walked.</p> + +<p>"John, you are so tickled that you can't answer me."</p> + +<p>"Why, I could answer you very easily if I only knew what you want me to +say."</p> + +<p>This broke her whimsical resentment of his droll playfulness; she +laughed with him, and taking his arm, walked up and down the porch. They +talked of many things—of Louise's per<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>sistent stubbornness, and of a +growing change in the conduct of Tom—his abstraction and his +gentleness. He had left uncut the leaves of a sporting review, had taken +to romances, and in his room had been found, sprawled on foolscap, an +ill-rhymed screed in rapturous praise of soulful eyes and flaxen hair. +Mrs. Cranceford knew that he must be in love; so did the Major, but he +could not conjecture the object of so fervid a passion. But his wife had +settled upon the object and was worried, though of her distress she had +not spoken to Tom, so recent had been the discovery of the tell-tale +blotch of ink. But she would as soon as an opportunity offered.</p> + +<p>"It will soon pass," said the Major. "I don't think he intends to marry +her."</p> + +<p>"Marry her!" his wife exclaimed. "I would rather see him dead than +married into a family of white trash. She may be a most amiable young +person and all that, but he shan't marry her. It would break my heart, +and I vow she shall never come here. Why, she came from the pine woods +and is a cracker."</p> + +<p>"But the cracker may have a most gallant and well-born origin, my dear," +the Major replied. "The victim of a king's displeasure is not +insignificant; he must have been a force."</p> + +<p>"What! Do you approve of it?" she demanded, pulling away from him. "Is +it possible that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> you would not oppose his marriage into such a family +as hers must be?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think, my dear, that her father was in the penitentiary."</p> + +<p>"John, that is unworthy of you. I was grieved at Louise's marriage, and +you know it."</p> + +<p>In prankishness he sought a refuge; he laughed, but she did not follow +him. For a moment her black eyes were hard, then came a look of +distress—and tears. He put his arm about her. "Why, my dear, I didn't +mean to hurt your feelings; bless your life, I didn't. Why, of course, +he shan't marry her. Who ever heard of such a thing? I'll talk to +him—thrash him if you say the word. There, it's all right. Why, here +comes Gid."</p> + +<p>She went into the house as Batts came up, glancing back at him as she +passed through the door; and in her eyes there was nothing as soft as a +tear. The old fellow winced, as he nearly always did when she gave him a +direct look.</p> + +<p>"Are you all well?" Gideon asked, lifting the tails of his long coat and +seating himself in a rocking chair.</p> + +<p>"First-rate," the Major answered, drawing forward another rocker; and +when he had sat down, he added: "Somewhat of an essence of November in +the air."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gid assented; "felt it in my joints be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>fore I got up this +morning." From his pocket he took a plug of tobacco.</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd given up chewing," said the Major. "Last time I saw you +I understood you to say that you had thrown your tobacco away."</p> + +<p>"I did, John; but, I gad, I watched pretty close where I threw it. +Fellow over here gave me some stuff that he said would cure me of the +appetite, and I took it until I was afraid it would, and then threw it +away. I find that when a man quits tobacco he hasn't anything to look +forward to. I quit for three days once, and on the third day, about the +time I got up from the dinner table, I asked myself: 'Well, now, got +anything to come next?' And all I could see before me was hours of +hankering; and I gad, I slapped a negro boy on a horse and told him to +gallop over to the store and fetch me a hunk of tobacco. And after I +broke my resolution I thought I'd have a fit there in the yard waiting +for that boy to come back. I don't believe that it's right for a man to +kill any appetite that the Lord has given him. Of course I don't believe +in the abuse of a good thing, but it's better to abuse it a little +sometimes than not to have it at all. If virtue consists in deadening +the nervous system to all pleasurable influences, why, you may just mark +my name off the list. There was old man Haskill. I sat up with him the +night after he died, and one of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> the men with me was harping upon the +great life the old fellow had lived—never chewed, never smoked, never +was drunk, never gambled, never did anything except to stand still and +be virtuous—and I couldn't help but feel that he had lost nothing by +dying. Haven't seen Louise, have you?"</p> + +<p>"No; but I have about made up my mind to go over there, whether she +wants me or not."</p> + +<p>"I believe I would, John. We haven't long to stay here, and nothing +sweetens our sojourn like forgiveness. I don't mean it in sacrilege, but +Christ was greatest and closest to His Father when he forgave the +thief."</p> + +<p>"That's true," said the Major. "You may not be able to think very +coherently, Gid, but sometimes you stroll into a discussion and bark the +shins of thought."</p> + +<p>"Easy, John. I am a thinker. My mind is full of pictures when your fancy +is checkered with red and blue lines. So you are willing to forgive +her?" he added after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Yes, more than willing. But she isn't ready to be forgiven. She has +some very queer notions, and I'll be hanged if I know where she picked +them up. At times she's most unnatural."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, John. I gad, sir, what right has one person to say that +another person is unnatural? Who of us is appointed to set up the +standard and gauge of naturalness? Who is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> wholly consistent? You may +say the average man. Ah, but if everyone conformed to the average there +would be nothing great in the world. There is no greater bore than the +well-balanced man. He wears us out with his evenness. You know what he's +going to say before he says it."</p> + +<p>"I grant you all that; but the well-balanced man made it possible for +the genius to make the world great. Genius is the bloom that bursts out +at the top of commonplace humanity."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's all very well; but just at present I'd like to have a +little liquor. Be easy, though, and don't let the madam know what you're +after."</p> + +<p>"There's not a drop in the house, Gid, but there's a demijohn in the +office. Let's step out there."</p> + +<p>"No, I believe not, John," the old fellow replied, with a shudder. +"Can't you bring it out?"</p> + +<p>"She'll see me if I do. You must go with me. Whisky that's not worth +going after is not worth drinking."</p> + +<p>"You are right, John; but you have stated one of those truths that are +never intended to be used except in the absence of something else that +might have been said. Plain truths are tiresome, John. They never lend +grace to a conversation."</p> + +<p>"What do you know about the graces of con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>versation? You are better +fitted to talk of the disgraces of conduct."</p> + +<p>"Slow, John. But I know that a truth to be interesting must be whimsical +or so blunt that it jolts."</p> + +<p>"But didn't it jolt you when I said that you must go into the office +after the liquor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but cruelly, John. You must never jolt cruelly. I gad, I'm getting +old. Do you realize that we have known each other intimately for +thirty-five years?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford came out upon the porch. "Ah," said old Gid, without +changing his tone, and as if he were continuing a moral discourse, +"thirty-five years ago we heard an old circuit-rider preach at Gum +Springs, and while we could not subscribe to his fiery doctrine, being +inclined to the broader and more enlightened faith of the Episcopal +church, yet the fervor and sincerity of his utterances made a lasting +impression on us. Madam, I hear with much pleasure that Mr. Pennington +is better."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is feeling quite improved," she replied, merely glancing at +him. "Did the Major think enough of him to tell you?"</p> + +<p>The Major looked at Gid, winked at him, and the old fellow believing +that he knew what was wanted, thus answered: "Yes, ma'am, but I first +heard it from the priest. He knows everything, it seems. I met him down +the road and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> had quite a talk with him. By the way, I read a number of +years ago a most edifying book, 'The Prince of the House of David.' You +doubtless have it in your collection, and may I ask you to lend it to +me?"</p> + +<p>She had but small faith in the old fellow's sincerity, and yet she was +pleased to see him manifest an interest in so godly a book. "Yes, and I +will get it for you," she answered, going straightway to look for it; +and when she had passed through the door, Gid snatched a bottle out of +his pocket and held it out toward the Major. "Here, John, hurry out +there and fill this up while she's gone. Meet me around at the gate. +Quick!"</p> + +<p>"Why, you old rascal, do you suppose me capable of complicity in such a +fraud?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right, John. Hurry up. I could get liquor, plenty of it, +but yours always hits me where I live. I'm sick, I tell you, and hang +it, I'm getting old. You don't seem to realize that I'm an old man, not +long for this vain world. Take it, John, and hurry up. Confound it, you +won't be deceiving her; it would be an advantage taken of her +unreasonable prejudice. You never saw me drunk and never will. +Thunderation, here she comes!"</p> + +<p>He stuffed the bottle back into his hip pocket and the Major threw +himself back with a loud laugh. Mrs. Cranceford, handing the book to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +Gid, cast a suspicious look at the Major, who continued to shake. "Why, +what has amused you so?" she asked. And now old Gid was nodding and +chuckling in hypocritical diversion. "I was just telling him of the +first time I borrowed a copy of this book," he said. "Walked four miles +to get it, and when I returned, some rascal had greased the foot-log and +I slipped off into the creek. Oh, it's very funny now, but it wasn't +then; had to fight to keep from losing the book and came within one of +drowning. Well, I must go. Ma'am, I'm a thousand times obliged to you +for this store-house of faith, and I assure you that I'll take the best +of care that it shall come back to you in good condition. By the way, +John, is your office locked? I'll step out there and get that paper."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's locked. I'll go with you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind. Let me have the key."</p> + +<p>"But you can't find the paper."</p> + +<p>"Well, let it go; I can get it some other time."</p> + +<p>The Major, slyly shaking, walked with him to the end of the porch. +"You've played thunder," the old fellow whispered. "I didn't think it of +you. I gad, every chance you get you hoist me on your hip and slam the +life out of me. Sick as a dog, too. Again, ma'am," he added, turning +about, "let me thank you for this book. And Major," he said aloud, and +"damn you," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> breathed, "I hope to see you over my way soon."</p> + +<p>He swore at his horse as he mounted, and throwing back a look of +reproach, he jogged off down the road. But he had not proceeded more +than a mile when a boy, urging a galloping horse, overtook him and gave +him a bundle; and therein he found a bottle of whisky, with these words +written in red ink and pasted on the glass: "You are an old fool."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p>All day the clouds had been gathering, hanging low over the fields. At +evening came a downpour of rain, and at night a fitful wind was +blowing—one moment of silence and then a throb of rain at the windows. +In his office the Major sat, looking over the affairs of his estate. It +was noted that he preferred a stormy night thus to apply himself; the +harshness of figures, the unbending stubbornness of a date, in his mind +seemed to find a unity with the sharp whistle of the wind and the lashes +of rain on the moss-covered roof. Before him, on yellowing paper, was +old Gid's name, and at it he slowly shook his head, for fretfully he +nursed the consciousness of having for years been the dupe of that man's +humorous rascality. The plantation was productive, the old fellow had +gathered many a fine crop, and for his failure to pay rent there could +be no excuse, except the apologies devised by his own trickish +invention. Year after year, in his appeals for further indulgence, he +had set up the plea of vague obligations pressing upon him, some old +debt that he was striving to wipe out and from which he would soon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> be +freed; and then, no longer within the tightening grasp of merciless +scoundrels, he would gratefully devote the proceeds of his energies to +the discharge of the obligations held so lightly over him by the noblest +man on earth. Once he returned from New Orleans, whither he had gone to +sell his cotton, with the story that he had been knocked senseless and +robbed of his wallet, and in proof of this he produced a newspaper +account of the midnight outrage, and exhibited a wound on the head, +inflicted by the bludgeon of the footpad. And with such drollery did he +recite this story that the Major laughed at him, which meant, of course, +that his tenure of the old plantation was not to be disturbed. The +memory of this rascally trick came back to the Major as he sat there +looking over his papers. He recounted it all as a reminiscence of his +own weakness, and he was firmly and almost angrily resolved that this +season the old fellow should not waddle from under his obligations. +Amusement was well enough; to laugh at a foible was harmless, but +constantly to be cheated was a crime against his wife and his children. +Children? Yes, for out of no calculation for the future did he leave +Louise.</p> + +<p>There came a tap at the door. Mrs. Cranceford had sent a negro boy with +an umbrella and a lantern. The night was wild, and the slanting rain hit +hard. Before he reached the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> house the wind puffed out his lantern, +leaving him to stumble through the dark.</p> + +<p>As he stepped upon the porch there was a loud "halloa" at the gate, and +just at that moment he heard his wife's voice. "John, go out there and +see who that is," she said.</p> + +<p>He went round to the gate. His wife stood on the porch waiting for him. +Presently he came back, walking rapidly.</p> + +<p>"Who is it, dear?"</p> + +<p>"A negro man. Margaret, we must go at once to Louise. Pennington is +dying."</p> + +<p>With an inarticulate note of astonishment she fled to her room, to +prepare herself for the journey, and the Major loudly commanded the +carriage to be brought out.</p> + +<p>Lanterns flashed across the yard, under the streaming trees, and +flickered in the gale that howled about the barn.</p> + +<p>Pale, impatient, and wrapped in a waterproof, Mrs. Cranceford stood at +the front doorway. The carriage drew up at the gate. "Are you ready?" +the Major asked, speaking from the darkness in the midst of the rain.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, stepping out and closing the door.</p> + +<p>"Where is Tom?" the Major inquired.</p> + +<p>"He hasn't come home."</p> + +<p>"He ought to go. I wonder where he can be."</p> + +<p>"He could be most any place," she answered;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> and as she stepped under +the umbrella to walk with him to the gate, she added: "But I think he is +at Wash Sanders' house."</p> + +<p>He helped her into the carriage, took a seat beside her, and shut the +door with a slam. "As fast as you can!" he shouted to the driver. They +sat a long time in silence, listening to the rain and the hoofs of the +horses sloshing in the wet sand. The carriage stopped.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"De bayou, sah."</p> + +<p>"Drive on."</p> + +<p>"De bridge is full o' holes."</p> + +<p>"Drive through."</p> + +<p>"De water's mighty high."</p> + +<p>"Drive through."</p> + +<p>Down they went with a splash. The carriage swayed, was lifted, was swung +round—the horses lunged; one of the doors was burst open and the water +poured in. Mrs. Cranceford clung to the Major, but she uttered not a +word. Up the slippery bank the horses strained. One of them fell, but he +was up in a moment. Firmer footing was gained, and the road was reached. +Now they were in a lane. The Major struck a match and looked at his +watch. It was nearly two o'clock. Across the fields came a light—from +Louise's window.</p> + +<p>The carriage drew up at the gate.</p> + +<p>"That you, Major?" a voice asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. Why, how did you get here, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"Tore down the fences and rode across the fields."</p> + +<p>"How is he?" the Major asked, helping his wife to the ground.</p> + +<p>"I haven't been in—been walking up and down out here. Thought I'd wait +for you."</p> + +<p>At the entrance of the passageway Louise met them. She kissed her +mother, saying not a word. The Major held out his arms toward her. She +pretended not to notice this complete surrender; she took his hand and +turned her face from him.</p> + +<p>"My poor little girl, I——"</p> + +<p>She dropped his hand, opened the door of a room opposite the dying man's +chamber and said: "Step in here, please. Mother, you and Jim may come +with me."</p> + +<p>The old man broke down. "My precious child, God knows——"</p> + +<p>"Will you please step in here? I will come with you. Mother, you and +Jim——" She pointed to the door of her husband's room. In sorrowful +obedience the Major bowed his head and crossed the threshold. In the +room was a fire and on the mantel-piece a lamp was burning.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," she said.</p> + +<p>"Louise, I have not deserved this."</p> + +<p>"Take the rocking chair, please."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>He stood with his hands resting on the back of the chair. "Why do you +hold me off with such stubbornness? Why continue to be so unnatural a +child, so incomprehensible a woman?" Even now he did not forget to +measure his sentences, but with the depth of his earnestness his voice +was wavering, "You know——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," she broke in, looking full at him, and her face smote him +with pity. "But this is no time for explanations." She turned toward the +door.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to leave me?" he asked, following her.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Mother will tell you all that is to be told."</p> + +<p>She went out and closed the door. The Major walked softly up and down +the room, listening, but he heard nothing save the creaking of the house +and the moaning of the wind in the old plum thicket. A long time passed, +and then Mrs. Cranceford entered. Her eyes were wet with tears. "It is +all over," she said. At the moment the Major made no reply. He led her +to a chair, and when she had sat down, looking up at him, he leaned over +her and said: "Margaret, I know you can't help appreciating my position; +and I feel that I am the keenest sufferer under this roof, for to me all +consolation is denied. Now, what is expected of me? I am going to make +no more protests—I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> going to do as I am instructed. What is expected +of me?"</p> + +<p>"Go home, dear, and wait until I come," she answered.</p> + +<p>"But doesn't that seem hard, Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but it is her wish and we must not oppose it."</p> + +<p>"I will do as you say," he replied, and kissing her he added: "If you +can, make her feel that I love her. Tell her that I acknowledge all the +wrong." He stepped out into the passage, but he came back to the door, +and standing there for a moment, he said: "Make her feel that I love +her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + + +<p>Pennington was buried in the yard of the church wherein he had taught +school. No detail of the arrangements was submitted to the Major. For a +time he held out that the family burial ground was the proper place for +the interment, under the trees where his father and his mother were laid +to rest, but Louise stood in strong opposition to this plan, even though +appearances called for its adoption. So, after this, the Major offered +no suggestion.</p> + +<p>At the grave there was no hysterical grief. The day was bleak and the +services were short. When all had been done, the Major gently put his +arm about his daughter and said that she must go home with him.</p> + +<p>"Not now," she replied; and she did not look up at him. "But please +don't worry over me; don't feel that you have to do something. Mother is +going with me, and after that you may know what I intend to do. Please +don't urge me. Let me have my way just a little longer."</p> + +<p>He stepped back from her and Mrs. Cranceford took her arm and led her +away. The Major slowly followed them. He felt the inquisitive look of a +neighbor, and his shoulders stiffened.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<p>In a buggy the mother and the daughter had followed the hearse; the +Major, Tom and big Jim Taylor were driven in the family carriage. Louise +was to go back to the desolate house. The Major stoutly opposed this, +pleaded with her after she had seated herself in the buggy, clutched the +spoke of a muddy wheel as if he would hold her back. She took the lines +from her mother, tossed them upon the horse, folded her arms, and in +silence waited.</p> + +<p>"John, dear," said Mrs. Cranceford, "let us drive on. There, please +don't attract the attention of those people. You know what gossips they +are."</p> + +<p>The Major spoke to Louise. "Will you answer me one question?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Is it your intention to live alone in that wretched house?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; but I must go there to think."</p> + +<p>The Major stepped back, and with a handkerchief wiped his muddy hand. +"Margaret, I leave her with you," he said.</p> + +<p>Shortly after the Major reached home his wife arrived, but Louise was +not with her. "I could do nothing," she said. "When we drove up to the +gate she jumped out and declared that I must come on home. I pleaded +with her, but she wouldn't yield. Two old women were in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> house and +she said that they were company enough; she wanted to think and they +would not distract her thoughts. I told her that if she would agree to +let me stay I would not say a word, but she shook her head. 'You shall +hear from me to-morrow,' were her words, 'but you must leave me to +myself to-night. It is of no use to urge me.' I saw that it wasn't, and +I drove away. I declare I can't make her out."</p> + +<p>"Most unreasonable creature I ever saw," the Major replied, uneasily +walking up and down the room. "She has made me contemptible in the eyes +of this neighborhood, and now appears determined to disgrace herself."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, John."</p> + +<p>"Why not? It's a fact."</p> + +<p>"It is not a fact. I am not afraid of a daughter of mine disgracing +herself. It's only bad blood that disgraces itself."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure about that when women throughout the entire country +are striving to be unnatural. By the blood——"</p> + +<p>"John."</p> + +<p>He wheeled about and looked at her. "But I ask you if it isn't enough to +make a saint pull out his hair? Simply opposed her marriage, used +legitimate argument, and afterward begged like a dog. Isn't it enough to +make me spurn the restraints of the church and take up the language of +the mud-clerk?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, dear; nothing should prompt you to do that. You have a soul to be +saved."</p> + +<p>"But is it necessary that my life should be tortured out of me in order +that my soul may be saved? I don't care to pay such a price. Is it put +down that I must be a second Job? Is a boil the sign of salvation?"</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake don't talk that way," she pleaded, but she had to +turn her face away to hide her smile from him.</p> + +<p>"But I've got to talk some way. Just reflect on her treatment of me and +how I have humbled myself and whined at her feet. And I ask what may we +not expect of such a creature? Is it that she wants to be different from +anyone else? Let me tell you one thing: The woman who seeks to be +strongly individualized may attain her aim, but it leads to a sacrifice +of her modesty. I say she is in danger of disgracing herself."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford shook her head. "You wait and we shall see. No member of +my family was ever disgraced. I may be distressed at her peculiarities, +at times, but I shall never be afraid for her conduct."</p> + +<p>Early the next morning a negro brought a letter from Louise. Mrs. +Cranceford hastened to the office to read it to the Major. It appeared +to have been written with care and thus was it worded:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My Dear Mother:—I am thankful that I am not to look upon the surprise +and sorrow you must feel in reading this letter. I hardly know how to +rake together and assort what I desire to say, but I will do the best I +can, and if you fail to understand me, do not charge it against +yourself, but list it with my other faults. What I have recently gone +through with is quite enough to unstring the nerves of a stronger woman +than I am, and what must be my condition? Worn out and weary of any life +that I could conceive of here—don't you see how I am floundering about? +But give me time and in all honesty you shall know the true state of my +mind. Many a time father has said that he did not understand me, and +more than once you have charged me with being strange. But I am sure +that I have never tried to be mysterious. I have had thoughts that would +not have appeared sane, had I written them, but I have never been +foolishly romantic, although my education has been far from practical. +The first thing I remember was a disappointment, and that was not being +a boy. It may be a vanity, but at that early age I seemed to recognize +the little privileges given to a boy and denied a girl. But as I grew +older I was shocked by the roughness and cruelty of boys, and then I was +pleased to reflect that I was of gentler mold. At some time of life I +suppose we are all enigmas unto ourselves; the mystery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> of being, the +ability to move, and the marvelous something we call emotion, startles +us and drives us into a moody and speculative silence. I give this in +explanation of my earlier strangeness. I could always talk readily, but +never, not even to you, could I tell completely what I thought. Most +young people are warned against the trash that finds its way—no one +appears to know how—into the library of the home, but I remember to +have been taken to task for reading mannish books. And in some measure I +heeded the lecture thus delivered, but it is to mannish books that I owe +my semblance of common sense."</p> + +<p>"What is she trying to get at?" the Major broke in. "Have you read it? +If you have, tell me what she says."</p> + +<p>"I am reading it now," his wife replied; and thus she continued:</p> + +<p>"The strongest emotion of my life has been pity, and you know that I +never could keep a doll nor a trinket if a strong appeal was made for +it. I grew up to know that this was a weakness rather than a virtue, but +never has my judgment been strong enough to prevail against it. And this +leads me to speak of my marriage. That was the result of pity and fear. +Let me see if I can make you understand me. That poor man's condition +smote my heart as never before had it been smitten. And when he made his +appeal to me, hollowed-eyed and coughing, I trembled, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> I knew that +my nature would prompt me to yield, although I might fully estimate the +injustice to myself. So my judgment fought with my sense of pity, and in +the end, perhaps, might have conquered it, but for the element of fear +which was then introduced. The question of his soul was brought forward, +and he swore that I would send it to heaven or to hell. In the light of +what I have read, and in the recollection of what I have often heard +father say in his arguments with preachers, perhaps I should have been +strong enough to scout the idea of a literal torment, but I could not. +You remember old Aunt Betsy Taylor, Jim's black mammy. When I was very +young she was still living on the place, and was to me a curiosity, the +last of her race, I was told. I did not know what this meant, but it +gave her words great weight. Once she pictured hell for me, the roaring +furnace, the writhing of the damned, and no reason and no reading has +ever served to clear my mind of her awful painting. With her as the +advocate I could hear the groans of lost souls; and in my childish way I +believed that the old woman was inspired to spread the terrors of +perdition; nor has education and the little I have seen of society, +wholly changed this belief. So when Mr. Pennington swore to me that if I +refused to marry him he would die blaspheming the name of God, my +judgment tottered and fell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> I sit here now, looking at the bed whereon +he died. You saw him breathe his last, saw his smile of peace and hope. +That smile was my reward. For it I had wrung the heart of my father and +wiped my feet upon his pride. But I had sent a soul above. I have set +myself to the task of perfect frankness, and I must tell you that in my +heart there was not the semblance of love for him, love as you know it; +there was only pity and I can say that pity is not akin to love. Yes. I +sold myself, not as many a woman has, not as I would have been praised +and flattered for doing—not for money, but to save a soul. This is +written at night, with a still clock above me, the hands recording the +hour and the minute of his death, and the light of the sun may fade my +words and make them ghastly, but I am revealing, to my mother, my inner +self."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford paused to wipe her eyes, and the Major, who had been +walking up and down the room, now stood looking through the window at +the sweep of yellow river, far away.</p> + +<p>"But does she say when she is coming home?" he asked without turning his +head. "Read on, please."</p> + +<p>The sheets were disarranged and it was some time before she obeyed. +"Read on, please," he repeated, and he moved from the window and stood +with his hands resting on the back of a chair. Mrs. Cranceford read on:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is one misfortune of mine that has always been apparent to you +and that is my painful sensitiveness. It was, however, not looked upon +as a misfortune, but rather as a fault which at will I might correct, +but I could no more have obviated it than I could have changed my entire +nature. When father charged me with ingratitude I realized the justice +of the rebuke (from his point of view), while feeling on my side the +injustice of the imputation, for I was not ungrateful, but simply in a +desperate state of mind. I am afraid that I am not making myself clear. +But let me affirm that I do not lose sight of the debt I owe him, the +debt of gallantry. I had always admired him for his bravery, and +hundreds of times have I foolishly day-dreamed of performing a +life-saving office for him. But the manner—and pardon me for saying +it—the arrogance which he assumed over me, wounded me, and the wound is +still slowly bleeding. But in time it will heal, and when it does I will +go to him, but now I cannot."</p> + +<p>"But she must come to me or let me go to her!" the Major broke in. "I +confess that I didn't understand her. Why, there is heroism in her +composition. Go ahead, Margaret. She's got more sense than all of us. Go +ahead."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford continued: "I can conceive of nothing more useless than +my life at home would be. The truth is, I must do something,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> see +something, feel the throb rather than the continuous pressure of life. +Thousands of women are making their way in the world. Why should not I? +And it is not that I mean wholly to desert you or to love you less, but +I must go away, and before this letter reaches you I shall be on my +journey——"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford's trembling hands let the paper fall. The Major grabbed +it up, fumbled with it, put it upon the desk and sat down. In silence +they looked at each other, and their vision was not clear. "Read on," he +said. "We can stand anything now."</p> + +<p>She wiped her eyes and obeyed him: "Shall be on my journey. I have in +mind a certain place, but what place it is I must not tell you. If I +succeed I shall let you know, and if I fail—but I will base nothing +upon the probability of failure. I know that you will look upon this +almost as an act of insanity, and carrying out my resolve to be frank, I +must say that I do not know but that it is. It is, though, the only +course that promises relief and therefore I must take it. You must not +charge me with a lack of love for you and never must you lose faith in +me. It is singular that after all these years, after all our +confidences, I should choose a pen wherewith to make myself known to +you, and you may call me a most unnatural daughter, but you must charge +my unnaturalness to nature, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> nothing that nature does should appear +unnatural when once we have come to understand it. I have money enough +to last me until I can secure employment. I hope that I know what sort +of employment it may be, but as there is in my hope a fear of failure, I +will not tell you. My training has not been systematic enough to enable +me to be a school teacher, for I know a little of many things, but am +thorough in nothing. But in some other line the mannish books may help +me. In reading this over I realize that I am vain and affected. But put +it down as another frankness. God bless you and good-bye."</p> + +<p>"I told you she would disgrace herself," the Major exclaimed, slapping +his hand upon the desk.</p> + +<p>"She has done nothing of the sort," his wife replied, stepping out and +closing the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + + +<p>The neighbors were curious to know why Louise had left home and whither +she was gone. Day and night they came to ask questions, and though told +that she was visiting relatives in Kentucky, they departed suspecting +that something must be wrong. The gossips were more or less busy, and +Jim Taylor snatched another idler off the fence and trounced him in the +sand.</p> + +<p>Weeks passed and no letter came from Louise. The Major worried over her +until at last he forbade the mention of her name. During the day Mrs. +Cranceford was calm and brave, but many a time in the night the Major +heard her crying. Every Sunday afternoon Jim Taylor's tread was heard on +the porch. To the Major he talked of various things, of the cotton which +was nearly all picked, of the weakening or strengthening tendency of the +market, but when alone with Mrs. Cranceford his talk began and ended +with Louise. But in this he observed the necessity for great care, lest +the Major might hear him, and he chose occasions when the old gentleman +was in his office or when with Gid he strolled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> down into the woods. In +the broad parlor, in the log part of the house, Jim and Mrs. Cranceford +would sit, hours at a time; and never did she show an impatience of his +long lapses of silence nor of his monotonous professions of faith in the +run-away. And upon taking his leave he would never fail to say: "I +believe we'll hear from her to-morrow; I am quite sure of it."</p> + +<p>In the midst of the worry that followed the young woman's departure, +there had been but one mention of the young man's affair with the niece +of Wash Sanders. Mrs. Cranceford had spoken to him, not directly, but +with gentle allusion, and he had replied with an angry denunciation of +such meddlesomeness. "I'm not going to marry a dying woman," he +declared; "and I'm not going to take up any faded ninny that you and +father may pick out. I'm going to please myself, and when you decide +that I mustn't, just say the word and I'll hull out. And I don't want to +hear anything about crackers or white trash, either. That's me."</p> + +<p>His mother must have agreed that it was, for the weeks went by and not +again did she drop a hint of her anxiety.</p> + +<p>One rainy afternoon the Major and old Gid were sitting on a tool-box +under the barn shed, when Father Brennon came riding down the road.</p> + +<p>"As they say over the creek, light and look at your saddle!" the Major +shouted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>With a nod and a smile the priest rode through the gate, dismounted, +gave his horse over to a negro who, in answer to a shout, had come +forward from some mysterious precinct of the barn-yard, shook hands with +the Major and Gid, and gracefully declining a seat on the tool-box, +rolled a barrel from against the wall and upon it seated himself.</p> + +<p>"More in accordance with the life of a priest," he said, tapping the +barrel with his knuckles. "It is rolling."</p> + +<p>"Ah," replied the Major, "and a barrel may also typify the reckless +layman. It is often full."</p> + +<p>The priest gave to this remark the approval of a courteous laugh. Even +though he might stand in a slippery place, how well he knew his ground. +To call forth a weak joke and then to commend it with his merriment—how +delightful a piece of flattery. And it can, in truth, be said that in +his heart he was sincere. To be pleasing was to him an art, and this art +was his second nature.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brennon," said the Major (and under no compulsion would he have +said father), "I have thought a great deal of the argument we had some +time ago; and I have wondered, sir, that in coming to this community to +proselyte the negro, you did not observe the secrecy with which the +affairs of your church are usually conducted. But understand, please, +that I do not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> mean to reflect upon the methods of your creed, but +simply wonder that you have not followed a recognized precedent."</p> + +<p>The priest had taken hold of the chine at each end of the barrel and was +slowly rolling himself backward and forward. "I fail to see why any +secrecy should be observed in my work," he replied. "The Catholic church +has never made a secret of doing good—for we believe in the potency of +example. If we elevate the moral condition of one man, it is well that +another man should know it. The Methodist holds his revival and implores +the sinner to come forward and kneel at the altar. And as it were, I am +holding a revival—I am persuading the negro and the white man as well +to kneel under the cross. Should there be any secrecy in such a work?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, not when you put it that way. But you know that we look upon +the Catholic religion as a foreign religion. It does not somehow seem +native to this soil. It is red with the pomp of monarchy, it has the +ceremonious restraint of the king's court; it hasn't the free noise of a +republic. I will not question its sincerity or the fact that it has in +view the betterment of man, but to us it will always seem an +importation."</p> + +<p>"It was here first," the priest replied, gravely smiling. "It discovered +this country."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We must grant that," the Major rejoined, "but still I insist that the +native born American regards it as a foreign institution, foreign to his +nature, to his sense of liberty, if not to his soul."</p> + +<p>"My dear Major, Christ is foreign to no soil. The earth is His Father's +foot-stool. The soul of man is the abiding place of the love of the +Saviour, and no heart is out-landish. What you may call liberty is an +education, but the soul as God's province is not made so by training, +but came with the first twinkling of light, of reason, the dawn of +time."</p> + +<p>"That's about as straight as any man can give it," old Gid joined in. +"But what puzzles me is why God is more at home in one man's heart than +in another. He fills some hearts with love and denies it to others; and +the heart that has been denied is cursed, through no fault of its +own—simply because it has not received—while the other heart is +blessed. I reckon the safest plan is to conclude that we don't know +anything about it. I don't, and that settles it so far as I'm concerned. +I can't accept man's opinion, for man doesn't know any more about it +than I do; so I say to myself, 'Gideon Batts, eat, drink and be merry, +for the first thing you know they will come along and lay you out where +the worm is whetting his appetite.' You have raked up quite a passle of +negroes, haven't you, colonel?"</p> + +<p>The priest looked at him, but not resentfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> "My work has not been +without a fair measure of success," he answered, now sitting upright and +motionless. "You must have noticed that we are building quite a large +church."</p> + +<p>"So I see," said the Major. "And you still believe that you are going to +preserve the negro's body as well as save his soul."</p> + +<p>"We are going to save his soul, and a soul that is to be saved serves to +protect its habitation."</p> + +<p>"But you foresee a race war?"</p> + +<p>"I foresee racial troubles, which in time may result in a war of +extermination."</p> + +<p>"I agree with you, Mr. Brennon," the Major replied. "As time passes it +will become more and more clear that the whites and the negroes cannot +live together. Their interests may be identical, but they are of a +different order and can never agree. And now let us face the truth. What +sowed the seeds of this coming strife? Emancipation? No, +enfranchisement. The other day Mr. Low gave me a copy of the London +Spectator, calling my attention to a thoughtful paper on this very +subject. It deeply impressed me, so much so that I read parts of it a +number of times. Let me see if I can recall one observation that struck +me. Yes, and it is this: 'We want a principle on which republicans can +work and we believe that the one which would be the most fruitful is +that the black people should be declared to be foreign immigrants, +guests of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> state, entitled to the benefit of every law and every +privilege, education, for example, but debarred from political power and +from sitting on juries, which latter, indeed, in mixed cases, ought to +be superseded by properly qualified magistrates and judges.' The paper +goes on to show that this would not be oppressive, and that the blacks +would be in the position of a majority of Englishmen prior to 1832, a +position compatible with much happiness. But the trouble is we have gone +too far to retrace our steps. It was easy enough to grant suffrage to +the negro, but to take it away would be a difficult matter. So what are +we to do? To let the negro exercise the full and unrestrained measure of +his suffrage, would, in some communities, reduce the white man to the +position of political nonentity. And no law, no cry about the rights of +a down-trodden race, no sentiment expressed abroad, could force the +white man to submit quietly to this degradation. Upon the negro's head +the poetry of New England has placed a wreath of sentiment. No poet has +placed a wreath upon the brow of the California Chinaman, nor upon the +head of any foreign element in any of the northern states. Then why this +partiality? Is the negro so gentle that he must always be defended, and +is the white man of the south so hard of heart that he must always be +condemned?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What you say is perfectly clear to me," the priest replied, "and it is +natural that you should defend your position."</p> + +<p>"It is the only position and the only course left to a thinking and a +self-respecting white man," the Major rejoined.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will agree to that, too."</p> + +<p>"Ah, and that's the trouble, Mr. Brennon. You agree while you oppose."</p> + +<p>"My dear Major, I am not here to oppose, nor to destroy, but to save +fragments when the hour of destruction shall have come."</p> + +<p>"But if your church believes that it can save fragments why doesn't it +exert itself to save the whole?"</p> + +<p>"Major, salvation comes of persuasion and persuasion is slow."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and let me tell you that your form of religion will never become +popular among the negroes. The negro is emotional, and to make a display +of his religious agitation is too great a luxury to be given up. Your +creed entails too much belief and too little excitement; upon the layman +it doesn't confer sufficient importance. The negro must shout and hug. +The quiet mysticism of the divine spirit does not satisfy him. He wants +to be exorcised; he wants what is known as the mourners'-bench jerks. If +his brother loves him he doesn't want a quiet assurance of that fact, +conveyed by a year of conduct;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> he demands a noisy proof, the impulse of +a moment of joy."</p> + +<p>With a slow shake of his head old Gid confirmed this view, and the +priest looked on, gravely smiling. "You have now touched upon a mistaken +phase of the negro's character," said he. "And to make my point clear, I +must speak plainly with regard to the appearance of our form of worship. +I must present it as it impresses the ignorant and the superstitious. In +doing so I make myself appear almost irreverent, but in no other way can +I show you the possibilities of my work among the colored race. Mystery +appeals to the negro. Behind all mystery there is power. Under the +influence of the sensationalist the negro may shout, demand an impulsive +proof of love, hug his brother; but in his heart God is a fearful and +silent mystery. And the Catholic church shows him that the holy spirit +is without noise. In the creation of the great tree there has not been a +sound; all has been the noiseless will of God. It is not difficult to +show him that ours was the first church; it may be shown that the +Protestant Bible held him a slave; and above all we prove to him that in +the Catholic church there is no discrimination against his color, that a +negro may become a Cardinal. We convince him that shouting is but a +mental agitation and a physical excitement. I have know many a negro, on +the scaffold, to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> renounce the religion which for years he had +practiced, and with cool discernment embrace the parent church. The germ +of Catholicism is in his blood. He cannot be a free thinker. The +barbarian is subdued by the solemn and majestic form of the Church of +Rome, while he might regard with disdain the intricate reason of the +Presbyterian faith. And in this respect the negro is akin to the +barbarian. He is moved by music and impressed by ceremony."</p> + +<p>"You are plain-spoken, indeed," the Major replied. "The boldness with +which you recount your shams is most surprising. I didn't expect it."</p> + +<p>"I told you that I would be bold."</p> + +<p>"But you didn't say that you would acknowledge your insincerity."</p> + +<p>"Nor have I done so. I have simply shown you why our church appeals to +the superstitious blood of the African. To accomplish a good we must use +the directest means. If I were seeking to convert you, I should adopt a +different method. I would appeal to your reason; convince you of a truth +which the wisest men have known and still know—that the Catholic church +is God's church. It is now time for me to go," he added, after a short +pause. "Please tell your man that I want my horse."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + + +<p>At the close of a misty day Jim Taylor stood at the parlor door to take +his leave of Mrs. Cranceford. During the slow hours of the afternoon +they had talked about Louise, or sitting in silence had thought of her; +and now at parting there was nothing to be added except the giant's +hopeful remark, "I believe we'll hear from her to-morrow; I am quite +sure of it." Repetition may make a sentiment trite, and into a slangish +phrase may turn a wise truism, but words spoken to encourage an anxious +heart do not lose their freshness. "Yes, I am quite sure of it," he +repeated. And the next day a letter came. It bore no post mark; the +captain of a steamboat had sent it over from a wood-yard. The boat was +an unimportant craft and its name was new even to the negroes at the +landing, which, indeed, must have argued that the vessel was making its +first trip on the Arkansas. The communication was brief, but it was +filled with expressions of love. "I am beginning to make my way," the +writer said, "and when I feel that I have completely succeeded, I will +come home. My ambition now is to surprise you, and to do this I must +keep myself in the dark just a little longer. I have tried to imagine +myself a friendless wo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>man, such as I have often read about, and I +rather enjoy it. Love to Jim."</p> + +<p>The Major was in his office when the letter was brought, and thither his +wife hastened to read it to him.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked as she entered the room. "A letter from Louise? I +don't want to hear it."</p> + +<p>"John."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear another crazy screed from her. Where is she? Is +she coming home? Read it."</p> + +<p>During the reading he listened with one hand cupped behind his +ear—though his hearing was not impaired—and when the last word had +been pronounced, he said: "Likes to be mysterious, doesn't she? Well, I +hope she'll get enough of it. If her life has been so much influenced by +sympathy why has she felt none of that noble quality for us? Where is +she?"</p> + +<p>"The letter doesn't say. It is not even dated, and it is not +post-marked."</p> + +<p>"Did it come in a gale? Was it blown out of a mysterious cloud?"</p> + +<p>"It came from the wood-yard, and the man who brought it said that it had +been left by the captain of the Mill-Boy, a new boat, they say."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's devilish——"</p> + +<p>"John."</p> + +<p>"I say it's very strange. Enjoys being mysterious. I wonder if she +equally enjoys having<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> the neighbors talk about her? Sends love to Jim. +Well, that isn't so bad. You'd better have some one take the letter over +to him."</p> + +<p>"I sent him word by the man who brought the letter that we had heard +from her."</p> + +<p>No further did the Major question her, but taking up a handful of +accounts, he settled himself into the preoccupation in which she had +found him, but the moment she went out and closed the door, he got out +of his chair and with his hands behind him, walked up and down the room. +At the window he halted, and standing there, looked down the river, in +the direction of the cape of sand whereon Louise had stood, that day +when Pennington coughed in the library door; and in his mind the old man +saw her, with her hands clasped over her brown head. He mused over the +time that had passed since then, the marriage, the death, the dreary +funeral; and though he did not reproach himself, yet he felt that could +he but recall that day he would omit his foolish plea of gallantry.</p> + +<p>For the coming of Jim, Mrs. Cranceford had not long to wait. She was in +the parlor when he tapped at the door. After she had called, "Come in," +he continued to stand there as if he were afraid of meeting a +disappointment. But when he had peeped in and caught sight of her +smiling face, his cold fear was melted.</p> + +<p>"Here it is," she said, holding the letter out to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> him. Almost at one +stride he crossed the room and seized the letter. In the light of the +window he stood to read it, but it fluttered away from him the moment he +saw that there was a greeting in it for himself. He grabbed at it as if, +possessing life, it were trying to escape, and with a tight grip upon it +he said: "I knew she would write and I am sure she would have written +sooner if—if it had been necessary."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford was laughing tearfully. "Oh, you simple-hearted man, so +trustful and so big of soul, what is your love not worth to a woman?"</p> + +<p>"Simple-hearted? I am nothing of the sort. I try to be just and that's +all there is to it."</p> + +<p>"No, Jim Taylor, there's more to it than that. A man may be just and his +sense of justice may demand a stricter accounting than you ask for."</p> + +<p>"I guess you mean that I'm weak."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she hastened to reply, "I don't mean that. The truth is I mean +that you give something that but few men have ever given—a love blind +enough and great enough to pardon a misdeed committed against yourself. +It is a rare charity."</p> + +<p>He did not reply, but in the light of the window he stood, reading the +letter; and Mrs. Cranceford, sitting down, gave him the attention of a +motherly fondness, smiling upon him; and he, looking up from the letter +which a pleasurable excitement caused to shake in his hand,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> wondered +why any one should ever have charged this kindly matron with a cold lack +of sympathy. So interested in his affairs was she, so responsive to a +sentiment, though it might be clumsily spoken, so patient of his talk +and of his silence, that to him she was the Roman mother whom he had met +in making his way through a short-cut of Latin.</p> + +<p>"Jim."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'm."</p> + +<p>"I want to ask you something. Have you talked much with Tom lately?"</p> + +<p>"Not a great deal. He was over at my place the other night and we talked +of first one thing and then another, but I don't remember much of what +was said. Why do you want to know?"</p> + +<p>"Can't you guess?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know that I can. I was always rather slow at guessing. And don't +let me try; tell me what you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You are as stupid as you are noble."</p> + +<p>"What did you say, ma'm?" Again he had given his attention to the +letter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing."</p> + +<p>"But you must have said something," he replied, pressing the letter into +narrow folds, and appearing as if he felt that he had committed a crime +in having failed to catch the meaning of her remark.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it amounted to nothing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>He stupidly accepted this decree, and smoothing out the letter and +folding it again, requested that he might be permitted to take it home; +and with this reply she gladdened him: "I intended that you should."</p> + +<p>At evening old Gid came, with many a snort and many a noisy stamp at the +dogs prancing upon the porch. Into the library he bustled, puffing and +important, brisk with the air of business. "John," he said, as he sat +down, "the last bale of my cotton has been hauled to the landing. It +will be loaded to-night and to-morrow morning I'm going with it down to +New Orleans; and I gad, I'll demand the last possible cent, for it's the +finest staple I ever saw."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to bunch in and sell with me," the Major +replied.</p> + +<p>"I intended to, John, but you see I'm too far ahead of you to wait. I +don't like to discount my industry by waiting. The truth is, I want the +money as soon as I can get it. I am chafing to discharge my debts. It +may be noble to feel and acknowledge the obligations of friendship, but +the consciousness of being in debt, a monied debt, even to a friend, is +blunting to the higher sensibilities and hampering to the character. +Now, you've never been in debt, and therefore you don't know what +slavery is."</p> + +<p>"What! I've owed fifty thousand dollars at a time."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, but you had a way of getting out from under it, John. We don't +deserve any credit for paying a debt if it comes easy, if it's natural +to us. Why, a man with the faculty of getting out from under a debt is +better off and is more to be envied than the man who has never known +what it is to walk under a weight of obligations, for to throw off the +burden brings him a day of real happiness, while the more prudent and +prosperous person is acquainted merely with contentment. You've had a +good time in your life, John. On many an occasion when other men would +have been at the end of the string you have reached back, grabbed up +your resources and enjoyed them. Yes, sir. And you have more education +than I have, but you can never hope to rival me in wisdom."</p> + +<p>The Major was standing on the hearth, and leaning his head back against +the mantel-piece, he laughed; and from Mrs. Cranceford's part of the +house came the impatient slam of a door.</p> + +<p>"It's a fact, John. And within me there is just enough of rascality to +sweeten my wisdom."</p> + +<p>"There is no doubt as to the rascality, Gid. The only question is with +regard to the wisdom."</p> + +<p>"Easy, John. The wisdom is sometimes hidden; modesty covers it up, and +if the rascality is always apparent it is my frankness that holds it up +to view. Yes, sir. But my wisdom lacks something, is in want of +something to direct it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> Pure wisdom can't direct itself, John; it is +like gold—it must have an alloy. You've got that alloy, and it makes +you more successful as a man, but sometimes less charming as a +companion. The part of a man that means business is disagreeable to a +gentle, humor-loving nature like mine. I perceive that I've got my +speculative gear on, and I'm bold; yes, for I am soon to discharge a +sacred obligation and then to walk out under the trees a free man. But +I'm naturally bold. Did you ever notice that a sort of self-education +makes a man adventurous in his talk when a more systematic training +might hold him down with the clamps of too much care?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, might inflict him with the dullness of precision," the Major +suggested, smiling upon his guest.</p> + +<p>"That's it, and for this reason half-educated men are often the +brightest. I read a book—and I reckon I'm as fond of a good book as any +man—without bringing to bear any criticisms that scholars have passed +upon it. But with you it is different."</p> + +<p>"Gid, you ascribe scholarship to me when in fact you are far more +bookish than I am. You sit in your den all alone and read while I'm shut +up in my office going over my accounts. From care you have a freedom +that I can never hope to find."</p> + +<p>"John, in comparison with me you don't know what care is."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Major leaned against the mantel-piece and laughed.</p> + +<p>"It's a fact, John. Why, I have care enough to kill a statesman or +strain a philosopher. Look at me; I'm old and don't amount to anything, +and that is one of the heaviest cares that can settle down upon man. +Wise? Oh, yes, we'll grant that, but as I before remarked, my wisdom +lacks proper direction. It is like ill-directed energy, and that, you +know, counts for nothing. I once knew a fellow that expended enough +energy in epileptic fits to have made him a fortune. He'd fall down and +kick and paw the air—a regular engine of industry, but it was all +wasted. But he had a brother, a lazy fellow, and he conceived the idea +of a sort of gear for him, so that his jerkings and kicks operated a +patent churn. So, if I only had some ingenious fool to harness me I +might do something."</p> + +<p>"Why," said the Major, "I wouldn't have you otherwise than what you are. +Suppose you were to become what might be termed a useful citizen, +truthful and frugal——"</p> + +<p>"Hold on, John," Gid broke in, holding up his hands. "You distress me +with your picture. When I hear of a frugal man I always imagine he's +hungry. Yes, sir. But let me tell you, I'll be a man of affairs when I +come back from New Orleans. You may be assured of that. I'm going to +scatter money about this neighborhood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> Why, every lout within ten miles +square, if he's got fifteen dollars, holds his opinion above mine. Ah, +by a lucky chance I see that your demijohn is in here. And now just fill +up this bottle," he added, producing a flask as if by a sleight-of-hand +trick, "and I will bid you good-night."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + + +<p>A neighboring planter, having just returned from New Orleans, told the +Major that in the French market he had met Gid, who had informed him +that for his cotton he had received a premium above the highest price, +in recognition of its length of fibre and the care with which it had +been handled. The part of the statement that bore upon the length of +fibre was accepted by the Major, but he laughed at the idea that Gid's +care should call for reward. But so good a report was pleasing to him +and he told his wife that her denunciation of the old fellow must soon +be turned into praise. And with cool thoughtfulness she thus replied: +"John, is it possible that at this late day you are still permitting +that man to fill your eyes with dust? Has he again wheedled you into the +belief that he is going to pay you? It does seem to me that your good +sense ought to show you that man as he really is."</p> + +<p>They were at the dinner table. The Major shoved back his chair and +looked at his wife long and steadily. "Margaret," said he, "there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> is +such a thing as persecution, and you are threatened with a practice of +it. But do I believe he is going to pay me? I do. And naturally you want +to know my reason for thinking so."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I should like to know. I suppose your kindness rather than your +judgment has found a reason. It always does."</p> + +<p>"Good; and the reason which a kindness discovers, though the search for +it may be a mistake, is better than the spirit that inspires a +persecution. However, we won't indulge in any fine-drawn argument; we +will——"</p> + +<p>"Search for another reason when one is exploded," she suggested, +victoriously smiling upon him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mean that I really haven't found one. To tell you the truth I +haven't a very strong one. But in some way he has convinced me of his +sincerity. I have forced upon him the understanding that at least a good +part of the money must be paid, and the fact that he took me seriously, +forms, perhaps, the basis of my belief in his desire to face his +obligations. We shall see."</p> + +<p>Several days passed, but they saw nothing of Gid. It was known that he +was at home, for Jim Taylor had told the news of his return. At this +neglect the Major was fretted, and one morning he sent word to Gid that +he must come at once and give an account of himself. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> nearly noon +when the old fellow arrived. Clumsily he dismounted from his horse, and +meekly he made his way into the yard, tottering as he walked. He +appeared to have lost flesh, and his skin was yellow with worry and with +want of sleep. The Major came forward and they met and shook hands under +a tree. From an upper window Mrs. Cranceford looked upon them.</p> + +<p>"Gid, I didn't know what had become of you. I heard of you after you had +received for your cotton more than the market price, and——"</p> + +<p>"It was a fine shipment, John. Have you a rope handy? I want to hang +myself. And why? Because I don't expect anyone to believe my statement; +but John, as sure as I am alive this minute, my pocket was picked in the +French market. Hold on, now. I don't ask you to believe me, for I won't +be unreasonable, but I hope I may drop dead this moment if I wasn't +robbed. And that's the reason I have held back. Get the rope and I'll +hang myself. I don't want to live any longer. I am no account on the +face of the earth. I sang like a cricket when I might have been more in +earnest, and now when my condition is desperate, the fact that I have +been foolish and careless takes all weight from my words. As I came +along my old horse stumbled, and I didn't try to check him—I wanted him +to fall and kill me. Get me the rope."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Major took off his hat and leaned against the tree. With humility, +with drooping patience, Gid waited for him to speak, and his ear was +strained to catch the familiar word of hope, or mayhap the first bar of +a resounding laugh. The first words escaped him; he heard only their +cold tone without comprehending their meaning:</p> + +<p>"I want you to get off that place just as soon as you can; and I want +you to go as you came—with nothing. I have laughed at you while you +were cheating me; I have placed a premium upon your worthlessness and +rascality. There is no good in you. Get off that place just as soon as +you can."</p> + +<p>"John——"</p> + +<p>"Don't call me John. You are a hypocrite and a deadbeat. Yes, you have +sung like a cricket and I have paid dearly for your music. Don't say a +word to me; don't open your lying mouth, but get out of this yard as +soon as your wretched legs can carry you, and get off that place at +once."</p> + +<p>The Major turned his back upon him, and the old fellow tottered to the +gate. With an effort he scrambled upon his horse and was gone. He looked +back as if he expected to see a hand upraised, commanding him to stop; +he listened for a voice inviting him to return; but he saw no hand, +heard no voice, and onward down the road he went. In the highway he met +a man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> and the man spoke to him, but he replied not, neither did he lift +his heavy eyes, but rode onward, drooping over the horse's neck. He +passed the house of Wash Sanders, and from the porch the invalid hailed +him, but he paid no heed.</p> + +<p>Upon reaching home, or the cypress log house which for him had so long +been a free and easy asylum, he feebly called a negro to take his horse. +Into the house he went, into the only habitable room. It was at best a +desolate abode; the walls were bare, the floor was rotting, but about +him he cast a look of helpless affection, at the bed, at a shelf whereon +a few books were piled. He opened a closet and took therefrom a faded +carpet-bag and into it he put Rousseau's Confessions, then an old book +on logic, and then he hesitated and looked up at the shelf. All were +dear to him, these thumbed and dingy books; many a time at midnight had +they supped with him beside the fire of muttering white-oak coals, and +out into the wild bluster of a storm had they driven care and +loneliness. But he could not take them all. Painfully he made his +selections, nearly filled his bag, leaving barely room for an old satin +waistcoat and two shirts; and these he stuffed in hastily. He put the +bag upon the bed, when with fumbling he had fastened it, and stood +looking about the room. Yes, that was all, all except a hickory walking +cane standing in a corner.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>Onward again he went with his cane on his shoulder and his bag on his +back. At the bars down the lane a dog ran up to him. "Go to the house, +Jack," he said, and the dog understood him and trotted away, but in the +old man's voice he heard a suspicious note and he turned before reaching +the house and followed slowly and cautiously, stopping whenever the old +fellow turned to look back. At the corner of a field Gid halted and put +down his bag, and the dog turned about, pretending to be on his way +home. In the field was a pecan tree, tall and graceful. Year after year +had the old man tended it, and to him it was more than a tree, it was a +friend. Upon the fence he climbed, sitting for a moment on the top rail +to look about him; to the tree he went, and putting his arms about it, +pressed his wrinkled cheek against its bark. He turned away, climbed the +fence, took up his bag and resumed his journey toward the steamboat +landing. Far behind, on a rise in the road, the dog sat, watching him. +The old man turned a bend in the road, and the dog, running until his +master was again in sight, sat down to gaze after him. Far ahead was the +charred skeleton of a gin house, burned by marauders many years ago, and +here he was to turn into the road that led to the landing. He looked up +as he drew near and saw a horse standing beside the road; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> then from +behind the black ruin stepped a man—the Major.</p> + +<p>"Gid," he said, coming forward, "I believe we're going to have more +rain."</p> + +<p>The old man dropped his bag, and the dog far down the road turned back. +"Wind's from the northwest, Gid." He put his hand on the old fellow's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Don't touch me, John; let me go."</p> + +<p>"Why, I can't let you go. Look here, old man, you have stood by me more +than once—you stood when other men ran away—and you are more to me +than money is."</p> + +<p>"Let me go, John. I am an old liar and an old hypercrite. My pocket was +not picked—I lost the money gambling. Let me go; I am a scoundrel."</p> + +<p>He stooped to take up his bag, but the Major seized it. "I'll carry it +for you," he said. "Too heavy for as old a man as you are. Come on back +and raise another crop."</p> + +<p>"I haven't a thing to go on, John. Can't even get feed for the mules. +Give me the satchel."</p> + +<p>"You shall have all the feed you want."</p> + +<p>"But your wife——"</p> + +<p>"I will tell her that the debt is paid."</p> + +<p>"John, your gospel would take the taint out of a thief on a cross. And I +was never so much of a man as you now make me, and, I gad, I'm going to +be worthy of your friendship. Let me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> remind you of something: That old +uncle of mine in Kentucky will leave me his money. It's cold-blooded to +say it, but I understand that he can't live but a short time. I am his +only relative, and have a hold on him that he can't very well shake off. +He'll beat me out of my own as long as he can, but old Miz Nature's got +her eye on him. Yes, I'll try it again and next year I'll let you sell +the crop. But say, John, at one time I had them fellows on the hip, and +if I had cashed in at the right time I would have hit 'em big. Get your +horse and we'll hook the satchel over the horn of the saddle."</p> + +<p>Along the road they walked toward home, the Major leading the horse. For +a time they were silent, and then the Major said: "As I came along I was +thinking of that bully from Natchez. He would have killed me with his +Derringer if you hadn't broken his arm with your cane."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; that red-headed fellow. It has been a long time since I +thought of him. How the pleasant acquaintances of our younger days do +slip away from us."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the Major laughed, "and our friends fall back as we grow old. +Friendship is more a matter of temperament than——"</p> + +<p>"Of the honesty of the other party," Gid suggested.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are right. Honesty doesn't always inspire friendship, for we +must be interested in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> a man before we can become his friend; and mere +honesty is often a bore."</p> + +<p>When they reached the gate that opened into Gid's yard, the Major shook +hands with the old fellow and told him to resume his authority as if +nothing had happened to interrupt it.</p> + +<p>"I will, John; but something has happened to interrupt it, and that +interruption has been my second birth, so to speak. I passed away at +twelve o'clock and was born again just now. I won't try to express my +feelings, I am still so young; for any profession of gratitude would be +idle in comparison with what I am going to do. I've got your friendship +and I'm going to have your respect. Come in and sit awhile, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Not now, but I'll come over to-night."</p> + +<p>"Good. And remember this, John; I'm going to have your respect."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + + +<p>With a generous and perhaps weak falsehood the Major sought to assure +his wife that Gid had paid a part of his debt, and that a complete +settlement was not far off, but with a cool smile she looked at him and +replied: "John, please don't tax your conscience any further. It's too +great a strain on you. Let the matter drop. I won't even say I told you +so."</p> + +<p>"And as much as you might want the subject to be dropped you can't let +it fall without reminding me—but we will let it drop; we'll throw it +down. But you have your rights, Margaret, and they shall be respected. I +will tell him that out of respect to you he must stay away from here."</p> + +<p>"That is very thoughtful, dear; but does it occur to you that your +continued intimacy with him, whether he comes here or not, will show a +want of respect for me?"</p> + +<p>"You don't give a snap whether he pays his debts or not. You simply +don't want me to associate with him. No, it has not occurred to me that +I am not showing you proper respect and neither is it true. Margaret, do +you know what is the most absurd and insupportable tyr<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>anny that woman +can put upon man? It is to choose a companion for her husband."</p> + +<p>"With me, dear, it is not tyranny; it is judgment."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; or rather, it is the wonderful intuition which we are taught +to believe that woman possesses. I admit that she is quick to see evil +in a man, but she shuts her eyes to the good quality that stands +opposite to offset it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know that I haven't shrewdness enough to discover a good trait; I +can recognize only the bad, for they are always clearly in view. It is a +wonder that you can respect so stupid a creature as I am, and I know +that you have ceased to have a deeper feeling for me."</p> + +<p>"Now, Margaret, for gracious sake don't talk that way. Oh, of course +you've got me now, and I have to flop or be a brute. Yes, you've got me. +You know I respect your good sense and love you, so what's the use of +this wrangle. There, now, it's all right. I'll promise not to go near +him if you say so. And I have made up my mind to attend church with more +regularity. I acknowledge that I can go wrong oftener than almost any +man. Respect for you!" he suddenly broke out. "Why, you are the smartest +woman in this state, and everybody knows it. Come on out to the office +and sit with me."</p> + +<p>Sometimes the Major, with a pretense of having business to call him away +at night, would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> go over to old Gid's house, and together they would +chuckle by the fire or nod over roasting potatoes. They talked of their +days on the river, and of their nights at Natchez under the hill. To be +wholly respectable, a man must give up many an enjoyment, but when at +last he has become virtuous, he fondly recounts the escapades of former +years; and thus the memory of hot blood quickens the feeble pulse of +age.</p> + +<p>Sometimes old Gid would meet the Major at the gin house and joke with +him amid the dust and lint, but he always came and departed in a +roundabout way, so that Mrs. Cranceford, sitting at the window, might +not be offended by his horse and his figure in the road. A time came +when there was an interval of a week, and the old fellow had not shown +himself at the gin house, and one night the Major went to the cypress +log home to invade his retirement, but the place was dark. He pushed +open the door and lighted the lamp. The fireplace was cheerless with +cold ashes. He went to a cabin and made inquiry of a negro, and was told +that Mr. Batts had been gone more than a week, and that he had left no +word as to when he intended to return. Greatly worried, the Major went +home; wide awake he pondered during long hours in bed, but no light fell +upon the mystery of the old man's absence; nor in the night nor at +breakfast did the Major speak of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> it to his wife, but silently he took +his worry with him to his office. One morning while the planter was at +his desk, there came a storming at the dogs in the yard.</p> + +<p>"Get down, boys. Don't put your muddy paws on me. Hi, there, Bill, you +seven years' itch of a scoundrel, take my horse to the stable."</p> + +<p>The Major threw open the door. "Don't come out, John!" Gid shouted, +coming forward among the prancing dogs. "Don't come out, for I want to +see you in there."</p> + +<p>He appeared to have gained flesh; his cheeks were ruddy, and his grasp +was strong as he seized the Major's hand. "How are you, John?"</p> + +<p>"Why, old man, where on earth have you been?"</p> + +<p>"I have been in the swamp for many years, but now I touch the ground +only in high places."</p> + +<p>He boldly stepped into the office, and as he sat down the sweep of his +coat-tails brushed chattel mortgages and bills of sale from the desk. +"Only in high places do my feet touch the ground, John. I have just +returned from Kentucky. And I bring the news that my old uncle is no +more to this life, but is more to me than ever."</p> + +<p>"And you were summoned to his bedside," said the Major, striving to be +serious, but smiling upon him.</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. You might say that I was sum<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>moned by a lawyer to his +chest-side. He left me no word of affection, but his money is mine, and +on many a half-dollar of it I warrant you there is the print of his +tooth. Give me your check-book, John."</p> + +<p>"Wait a while, Gid. Let us accustom ourselves to the situation."</p> + +<p>"No; let us get down to business. I am impatient to pay a mildewed debt. +God's love was slow, John, but it came. How much do I owe?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I'd pay it all at once, Gid. Leave a part to be met by +the next crop."</p> + +<p>"All right; but it's yours at any time. The only way I can use money is +to get rid of it as soon as possible. Make out a check for two-thirds of +the amount and I'll put my strong hand to it. But you haven't +congratulated me."</p> + +<p>"No," the Major replied, with a drawl, "for I felt that it would have +too much the appearance of my own greed. I have hounded you—" The old +fellow seized him, and stopped his utterance. "Don't say that, John. You +have kept me out of hell and you ought to complete my heaven with a +congratulation."</p> + +<p>They shook hands, looking not into each other's eyes, but downward; the +Major pretended to laugh, and old Gid, dropping his hand, blustered +about the room, whistled and stormed at a dog that poked his head in at +the door. Then he sat down, crossed his legs; but finding this +uncomfortable, sprawled himself into an easier<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> position and began to +moralize upon the life and character of his uncle. "He always called me +a fool with an uproarious fancy, an idiot with wit, and a wise man +lacking in sense. He denied himself everything, and it strikes me that +he must have been the fool. I wish he had gathered spoil enough to make +me rich, but I reckon he did the best he could, and I forgive him. We +must respect the dead, and sometimes the sooner they are dead the sooner +we respect them. Let me sign that thing. Oh, he hasn't left me so much, +but I won't quarrel with him now. What was it the moralist said?" he +asked, pressing a blotting pad upon his name. "Said something about we +must educate or we must perish. That's all right, but I say we must have +money. Without money you may be honest," he went on, handing the check +to the Major, "but your honesty doesn't show to advantage. Money makes a +man appear honorable whether he is or not. It gives him courage, and +nothing is more honorable than courage. The fact that a man pays a debt +doesn't always argue that he's honest—it more often argues that he's +got money. Accident may make a man honest just as it may make him a +thief."</p> + +<p>"Your log fire and your old books haven't done you any harm, Gid."</p> + +<p>"They have saved my life, John. And let me tell you, that a man who +grows gray without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> loving some old book is worse than a fool. The +quaint thought of an old thinker is a cordial to aged men who come after +him. I used to regret that I had not been better educated, but now I'm +glad that my learning is not broader—it might give me too many +loves—might make me a book polygamist. I have wondered why any +university man can't sit down and write a thing to startle the world; +but the old world herself is learned, and what she demands is +originality. We may learn how to express thought, John, but after all, +thought itself must be born in us. There, I have discharged an +obligation and delivered a moral lecture, and I want to tell you that +you are the best man I ever saw."</p> + +<p>"Now you are talking nonsense, Gid. Why, you have been just as necessary +to me as I have to you. In a manner you have been the completion of +myself."</p> + +<p>"Ah," Gid cried, scuffling to his feet and bowing, "I have the pleasure +of saluting Mrs. Cranceford. Some time has passed since I saw you, +ma'am, and I hope you will pardon my absence."</p> + +<p>The Major sprawled himself back with a laugh. Mrs. Cranceford, standing +on the door sill, gave Gid a cool stare.</p> + +<p>"Won't you please come in?" he asked, courteously waving his hand over +the chair which he had just quitted.</p> + +<p>"No, I thank you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, I see you are surprised to see me in here. There was a time when it +would have strained my boldness, but now it is a pleasure. I am here on +business. To me business is a sweet morsel, and I delight myself with +rolling it under my tongue. Ma'am, I have just signed a check. My dear +old uncle, one of the most humane and charming of men, has been cruelly +snatched from this life; and as he found it impossible to take his money +with him, he left it to me."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will make good use of it," she replied, with never a +softening toward him.</p> + +<p>"I am beginning well," he rejoined, surprised that she did not give him +a kindlier look. "I am discharging my obligations, and before night I'll +call on the rector and give him a check."</p> + +<p>She smiled, but whether in doubt as to his sincerity or in commendation +of his purpose he could not determine. But he took encouragement. "Yes, +ma'am, and as I have now become a man of some importance, I am going to +act accordingly. I am free to confess that my first endeavor shall be to +gain your good opinion."</p> + +<p>"And I'll freely give it, Mr. Batts, when I believe you merit it."</p> + +<p>"To desire it, ma'am, is of itself a merit."</p> + +<p>She laughed at this, and the Major laughed, too, for he saw that no +longer should he be compelled to defend his fondness for the old +fellow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am more than willing to confess my mountain of faults," Gid went on, +smiling, and his smile was not disagreeable. "I am more than willing to +do this, and when I have—and which I now do—your Christian heart must +forgive me."</p> + +<p>She laughed and held out her hand, and with a gallantry that would have +been reminiscent, even in old Virginia, he touched it with his lips.</p> + +<p>"Come here, Margaret," said the Major, and when she turned toward him, +smiling, he put his arms about her, pressed her to his breast and fondly +kissed her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford's surrender was not as complete as Gid's fancy had +fore-pictured it; he had expected to see her bundle of prejudices thrown +down like Christian's load; and therefore the dignity with which she +looked upon the establishment of his honor was a disappointment to him, +but she invited him to stay for dinner, and this argued that her reserve +could not much longer maintain itself. With pleasure he recalled that +she had given him her hand, but in this he feared that there was more of +haughtiness than of generosity. And at the table, and later in the +library, he was made to feel that after all she had accepted him merely +on probation; still, her treatment of him was so different from what it +had been, that he took the courage to build up a hope that he might at +last subdue her. To what was passing the Major was humorously alive, +and, too keenly tickled to sit still, he walked up and down the room, +slyly shaking himself. Mrs. Cranceford asked Gid if he had read the book +which she had loaned him, the "Prince of the House of David," and he +answered that when at last he had fallen asleep the night before, the +precious volume had dropped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> beside his pillow. There were some books +which he read while sitting by the fire, and some whose stirring +qualities moved him to walk about as he gulped their contents; but with +a godly book he must lay himself down so that he might be more receptive +of its soothing influence. Then he reviewed the book in question, and +did it shrewdly. With the Jewish maiden and the Roman centurion going to +see the strange man perform the novel rite of baptism in the river of +Jordan, he looked back upon the city of Jerusalem; and further along he +pointed out Judas, plodding the dusty road—squat, sullen, and with a +sneer at the marvel he was destined to see.</p> + +<p>"I believe you have read it," the Major spoke up, still slyly shaking +himself.</p> + +<p>"Read it! Why, John, I have eaten it. I gad, sir—Pardon me, ma'am." +With a nod she pronounced her forgiveness. The slip was but a pretense, +foisted to change the talk to suit his purpose. "Ah," said he, "I have +not yet weeded out all my idle words, and it grieves me when I am +surprised by the recurrence of one which must be detestable; but, ma'am, +I try hard, and there is always merit in a sincere trial."</p> + +<p>"Yes, in a sincere trial," she agreed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am; and—now there's John laughing at me fit to kill himself; +and bless me, ma'am,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> you are laughing, too. Am I never to be taken +seriously? Are you thus to titter true reformation out of countenance? +But I like it. But we are never tired of a man so long as we can laugh +at him; we may cry ourselves to sleep, but who laughs himself to +slumber? Ma'am, are you going to leave us?" he asked, seeing that Mrs. +Cranceford was on her feet. "But of course you have duties to look +after, even though you might not be glad to escape an old man's gabble. +I <i>call</i> it gabble, but I know it to be wisdom. But I beg pardon for +seeming vanity."</p> + +<p>A dignified smile was the only reply she made, but in the smile was +legible the progress his efforts were making.</p> + +<p>"John," he said, when she was gone, "that sort of a woman would have +made a man of me."</p> + +<p>"But perhaps that sort of a woman wouldn't have undertaken the job," the +Major replied.</p> + +<p>"Slow, John; but I guess you're right."</p> + +<p>"I think so. Women may be persistent, but they are generally quick to +recognize the impossible."</p> + +<p>"Easy. But again I guess you're right. I gad, when the teachings of a +man's mother leave him unfinished there isn't a great deal of +encouragement for the wife. A man looks upon his wife as a part of +himself, and a man will lie even to himself, John."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By the way," the Major asked, sitting down, "have you seen that fellow +Mayo since he came back?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I met him in the road once, but had no words with him."</p> + +<p>"It would hardly do for me to have words with him," the Major replied; +and after a moment of musing he added: "I understand that he's +organizing the negroes, and that's the first step toward trouble. The +negro has learned to withdraw his faith from the politician, but labor +organization is a new thing to him, and he will believe in it until the +bubble bursts. That fellow is a shrewd scoundrel and there's no telling +what harm he may not project."</p> + +<p>"Then why not hang him before he has time to launch his trouble? There's +always a way to keep the cat from scratching you. Shoot the cat."</p> + +<p>"No," said the Major, "that won't do. It would put us at a +disadvantage."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I gad, our disadvantage wouldn't be as great as his. Nobody +would be willing to swap places with a man that's hanged."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well, but we would be the aggressors, and distant eyes +would look upon him as a martyr."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; but isn't it better to have one man looked on as a martyr +than to have a whole community bathed in blood?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It might be better for us, but not for our children. A blood-bath may +be forgotten, but martyrdom lives in the minds of succeeding +generations."</p> + +<p>"John, there spoke the man of business. You are always looking out for +the future. I have agreed with myself to make the most of the present, +and so far as the future is concerned, it will have to look out for +itself—it always has. Was there ever a future that was not prepared to +take care of itself? And is there a past that can be helped? Then let us +fasten our minds to the present. Let me see. I wonder if we couldn't +train a steer to gore that fellow to death. And I gad, that would do +away with all possibility of martyrdom. What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing more on that subject; but I can say something concerning +another matter, and it will interest you more than the martyrdom of all +history."</p> + +<p>"Then out with it. I demand to be interested. But don't trifle with me, +John. Remember that an old man's hide is thin."</p> + +<p>"I'll not trifle with you; I'll startle you. Sixty years ago, the +grandfather of Admiral Semmes made whisky in the Tennessee Mountains."</p> + +<p>"But, John, that was a long time ago, and the old man is dead, and here +we are alive. But he made whisky sixty years ago. What about it?"</p> + +<p>"The brother of the admiral lives in Memphis,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> the Major continued, +"and the other day he sent me a bottle of that whisky, run through a log +before you were born."</p> + +<p>Gid's mouth flew open and his eyes stuck out. "John," he said, and the +restraint he put upon his voice rippled it, "John, don't tamper with the +affections of an old and infirm man. Drive me off the bayou plantation, +compel me to acknowledge and to feel that I am a hypercrite and a liar, +but don't whet a sentiment and then cut my throat with it. Be merciful +unto a sinner who worships the past."</p> + +<p>He sat there looking upward, a figure of distress, fearing the arrival +of despair. The Major laughed at him. "Don't knock me down with a stick +of spice-wood, John."</p> + +<p>The Major went to a sideboard, took therefrom a quaint bottle and two +thin glasses, and placing them upon a round table, bowed to the bottle +and said: "Dew of an ancient mountain, your servant, sir." And old Gid, +with his mouth solemnly set, but with his eyes still bulging, arose, +folded his arms, bowed with deep reverence, and thus paid his respects: +"Sunshine, gathered from the slopes of long ago, your slave."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cranceford stepped in to look for something, and the play +improvised by these two old boys was broken short off. The Major sat +down, but Gid edged up nearer the table as if prepar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>ing to snatch the +bottle. Upon the odd-shaped flask she cast a look of passing interest, +and speaking to the Major she said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's the whisky you got from Memphis. Don't drink it all, please. +I want to fill up the camphor bottle——"</p> + +<p>Gid sat down with a jolt that jarred the windows, and she looked at him +in alarm, fearing at the instant that death must have aimed a blow at +him. "Camphor bottle!" he gasped. "Merciful heavens, ma'am,' fill up +your camphor bottle with my heart's blood!"</p> + +<p>At this distress the Major laughed, though more in sympathy than in +mirth; and Mrs. Cranceford simply smiled as if with loathness she +recognized that there was cause for merriment, but when she had quitted +the room and gone to her own apartment, she sat down, and with the +picture in her mind, laughed in mischievous delight.</p> + +<p>"Help yourself," said the Major. Gid had spread his hands over the +whisky as if to warm them in this liquidized soul of the past.</p> + +<p>"Pour it out for me, John. And I will turn my back so as not to see how +much you pour."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," the Major insisted.</p> + +<p>"But I am shaken with that suggested profanation, that camphor bottle, +and I'm afraid that I might spill a drop. But wait. I am also bold and +will attempt it. Gods, look at that—a shredded sunbeam."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid of it."</p> + +<p>"I was waiting for you to say that, John. But it is reverence, and not +fear. That I should have lived to see this day is a miracle. Shall I +pour yours? There you are."</p> + +<p>They stood facing each other. With one hand Gid held high his glass, and +with the other hand he pressed his heart. Their glasses clinked, and +then they touched the liquor with their lips, sipped it, and Gid +stretched his neck like a chicken. To have spoken, to have smacked his +mouth, would have been profane. There is true reverence in nothing save +silence, and in silence they stood. Gid was the first to speak, not that +he had less reverence, but that he had more to say and felt, therefore, +that he must begin earlier. "Like the old man of Israel, I am now ready +to die," he said, as he put down his glass.</p> + +<p>"Not until you have had another drink," suggested the Major.</p> + +<p>"A further evidence, John, of your cool judgment. You are a remarkable +man. Most anyone can support a sorrow, but you can restrain a joy, and +in that is shown man's completest victory over self. No, I am not quite +ready to die. But I believe that if a drop of this liquor, this +saint-essence, had been poured into a camphor bottle, I should have +dropped dead, that's all, and Peter himself would have complimented me +upon the exquisite sensitiveness of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> my organization. Pour me just about +two fingers—or three. That's it. If the commander of the Alabama had +taken a few drinks of his grandfather's nectar, the Confederacy would +have wanted a blockade runner."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that it would have softened his nerve, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; but his heart, attuned to sweet melody, would have turned from +frowning guns to a beautiful nook in some river's bend, there to sing +among flowers dripping with honey-dew. I gad, this would make an old man +young before it could make him drunk."</p> + +<p>The Major brought two pipes and an earthen jar of tobacco; and with the +smoke came musings and with the liquor came fanciful conceits. To them +it was a pride that they could drink without drunkenness; in moderation +was a continuous pleasure. When Gid arose to go, he took an oath that +never had he passed so delightful a time. The Major pressed him to stay +to supper. "Oh, no, John," he replied; "supper would spoil my spiritual +flow. And besides, I am expecting visitors to-night."</p> + +<p>He hummed a tune as he cantered down the road; and the Major in his +library hummed the same tune as he stretched out his feet to the fire.</p> + +<p>As Gid was passing the house of Wash Sanders, the endless invalid came +out upon the porch and called him:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Won't you 'light?"</p> + +<p>"No, don't believe I've got time," Gid answered, slacking the pace of +his horse. "How are you getting along?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. Got no relish for victuals. Don't eat enough to keep a +chicken alive. Can't stand it much longer."</p> + +<p>"Want to bet on it?" Gid cried.</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"I say I'm sorry to hear it."</p> + +<p>"Glad to know that somebody sympathizes with me. Well, drop in some time +and we'll take a chaw of tobacco and spit the fire out."</p> + +<p>Nothing could have been more expressive of a welcome to Wash's house. To +invite a man to sit until the fire was extinguished with the overflow of +the quid was with him the topknot of courtesy.</p> + +<p>"All right," Gid shouted back; and then to himself he said: "If I was +sure that a drink of that old whisky would thrill him to death I'd steal +it for him, but I'd have to be sure; I'd take no chances."</p> + +<p>A horse came galloping up behind him. Dusk was falling and the old man +did not at once recognize Mayo, the labor organizer of the negroes. But +he knew the voice when the fellow spoke: "What's the weather about to +do?"</p> + +<p>"About to quit, I reckon," Gid answered.</p> + +<p>"Quit what?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Quit whatever it's doing."</p> + +<p>"Pretty smart as you go along, ain't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and when I stop, too."</p> + +<p>"Strains you to answer a civil question, I see."</p> + +<p>The old man turned in his saddle and jogged along facing the fellow, and +some distance was covered before either of them spoke. "Are you trying +to raise a row with me?" Gid asked. "I want to know for if you are I can +save you a good deal of time and trouble."</p> + +<p>"Sort of a time-saver," said Mayo.</p> + +<p>"Yes, when I'm not a recruiter for eternity."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I follow you."</p> + +<p>"Wish you would, or ride on ahead. Now look here," he added, "I just +about know you when I see you, and as I don't make friends half as fast +as I do enemies—in other words, as I am able to grasp a man's bad +points quicker than I can catch his good ones—I would advise you not to +experiment with me. You haven't come back here for the benefit of the +community, and if we were not the most easy-going people in the world, +we'd hang you and then speculate leisurely as to what might have been +your aim in coming here."</p> + +<p>Mayo grunted. He was a tall, big, stoop-shouldered fellow. He rode with +his knees drawn up. He had a sort of "ducking" head, and his chin was +long and pointed. He grunted and replied: "I guess this is a free +country or at least it ought to be."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," Gid rejoined, still facing him, "but it won't be altogether free +for such as you until the penitentiaries are abolished."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I understand you, Mr. Batts. You are trying to work up a chance to +kill me."</p> + +<p>"Good guess; and you are trying to help me along."</p> + +<p>"But I want to tell you that if you were to kill me you wouldn't live to +tell the tale. I don't want any trouble with you. I'm not here to have +trouble unless it's shoved on me. I am going to do one thing, however, +trouble or no trouble; I am going to demand that the colored people +shall have their rights."</p> + +<p>"And at the same time I suppose you are going to demand that the white +man shall not have his."</p> + +<p>"No, won't demand that he shan't have his rights, but that he shan't +have his way."</p> + +<p>"Not have his way with his own affairs? Good. And now let me tell you +something. Want to hear it?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not aching to hear it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll give it to you anyway. It's this: The first thing you know a +committee of gentlemen will call on you and offer you the opportunity to +make a few remarks, and after you have made them you will thereafter +decline all invitations to speak. At the end of a rope the most +talkative man finds a thousand years of si<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>lence. Long time for a man to +hush, eh? Well, our roads split here."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Because I turn to the right."</p> + +<p>"But may be my business calls me over that way."</p> + +<p>"Don't know about that, but I'm going to turn into this lane and I don't +want you to come with me. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>Mayo did not answer. Gid turned into a road leading to the right, and +looking back he saw that Mayo was riding straight ahead. "At any rate he +ain't afraid to say what he thinks," the old man mused. "Got more nerve +than I thought he had, and although it may make him more dangerous, yet +it entitles him to more respect."</p> + +<p>His horse's hoof struck into a patch of leaves, heaped beneath a +cottonwood, and from the rustling his ears, warmed by the old liquor, +caught the first bars of a tune he had known in his youth; and lifting +high his voice he sang it over and over again. He passed a negro cabin +whence often had proceeded at night the penetrating cry of a fiddle, and +it was night now but no fiddle sent forth its whine. A dog shoved open +the door, and by the fire light within the old man saw a negro sitting +with a gun across his lap, and beside him stood two boys, looking with +rapture upon their father's weapon. Throughout the neighborhood had +spread a re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>port that the negroes were meeting at night to drill, and +this glance through a door gave life to what had been a shadow.</p> + +<p>He rode on, and his horse's hoof struck into another patch of leaves, +but no tune arose from the rustle. The old man was thinking. In a field +of furrowed clouds the moon was struggling, and down the sandy road fell +light and darkness in alternating patches. Far away he saw a figure +stepping from light into darkness and back again into light. Into the +deep shadow of a vine-entangled tree he turned his horse, and here he +waited until he heard footsteps crunching in the sand, until he saw a +man in the light that lay for a moment in the road, and then he cried:</p> + +<p>"Hello, there, Jim Taylor!"</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Uncle Gideon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Gideon's band of one. Come over here a moment."</p> + +<p>"I will as soon as I can find you. What are you doing hiding out in the +dark? The grand jury ain't in session."</p> + +<p>"No, I gad, but something else is," he replied.</p> + +<p>Jim came forward and put his hand on the horn of the old man's saddle, +which as an expert he did in spite of the shying of the horse; and then +he asked: "Well, what is it, Uncle Gideon?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You've heard the rumor that the negroes are drilling at night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, what of it?"</p> + +<p>"It's a fact, that's what there is of it. Just now I rode quite a ways +with Mayo and he was inclined to be pretty sassy; and right back there I +looked into Gabe Little's cabin and saw him with a gun across his lap."</p> + +<p>"Well, what of that? Haven't the negroes had guns ever since the war, +and hasn't a man got the right to sit with his gun across his lap? Uncle +Gideon, I'm afraid you've been putting too much new wine into an old +bottle."</p> + +<p>"Soft, Jimmie; it was old liquor, sixty years at least. But I gad, it +strikes me that you are pretty glib to-night. You must have heard +something."</p> + +<p>"No, not since Mrs. Cranceford got the letter, but that was enough to +last me a good while."</p> + +<p>"Didn't hear about my bereavement, did you?"</p> + +<p>"What, you bereaved, Uncle Gideon? How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"At the imperious beck and call of nature, Jimmie. My uncle died and +inflicted on me money enough to make a pretense of paying my debts, and +I've made such a stagger that even Mrs. Cranceford has admitted me into +the out-lying districts of her good opinion. But that's got nothing to +do with the business in hand. Let's go back yonder and find out why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +that negro sits there suckling his gun to sleep."</p> + +<p>"But if he suckles it to sleep there's no harm in it, Uncle Gideon."</p> + +<p>"Ah, clod-head, but it may have bad dreams and wake up with a cry. Let's +go back there."</p> + +<p>"Are you in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"As earnest as a last will and testament."</p> + +<p>"Then let me tell you that I'll do nothing of the sort. You don't catch +me prowling about a man's house at night, and you wouldn't think of such +a thing if you were strictly sober."</p> + +<p>"Jimmie, you never saw me drunk."</p> + +<p>"No, but I've seen you soberer that you are now."</p> + +<p>"An unworthy insinuation, Jimmie. But having great respect for your +plodding judgment, I will not go to the negro's cabin, but will proceed +rather to my own shanty. And I want you to come with me. Tom Cranceford +and Sallie Pruitt will be there and in the shine of the fire we'll cut +many a scollop. What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle Gideon, don't you know how strongly opposed Mrs. Cranceford is to +Tom's——"</p> + +<p>"Bah, law-abiding calf. They are going to marry anyway, so what's the +difference? Jimmie, the most useless man in the world is the fellow that +keeps just within the law. But perhaps it isn't your law-abiding spirit +so much as it is your fear. In blind and stupid obedience there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> is a +certain sort of gallantry, and in trotting to Mrs. Cranceford's cluck +you may be wise."</p> + +<p>"It's not that I'm afraid of offending her," the giant said. "The girl +is too good for Tom any day, or for any of us when it comes to that, but +the distress of his mother haunts me, and I don't want that girl's +affection for Tom to haunt me too. I don't want to see them together if +I can help it. One haunt at a time is enough. But I tell you this, if it +should come to a question I would decide in favor of the girl."</p> + +<p>"Jimmie, you are improving. Yes, I am doing you great good. I found your +mind an insipid dish and I have sprinkled it with salt and pepper. You +are right. Always decide in favor of the young, for the old have already +had their disappointments. Well, I'll go. Lift your paw. My horse can't +move out from under its weight."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the giant, laughing and stepping back. "By the way," +he added, "tell Tom to be sure and meet me at the landing at two o'clock +to-morrow. We are going down to New Orleans."</p> + +<p>"What, alone? I ought to go along to take care of you. I could steer you +away from all the bad places and by this means you would naturally +stumble on the good ones. I'll see you when you get back."</p> + +<p>At home the old man had lighted his fire and was listening to its +cheerful crackle when his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> visitors came, laughing. With a boisterous +shout Tom kicked the door open, and when the girl remonstrated with him, +he grabbed her and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," old Gid cried. "One of these days the penitentiary +doors will open for you without being kicked in. Ah, delightful to see +you, my dear," he said, bowing to the girl; "refreshing to see you, +although you come with a scamp. Sit down over there. I gad, you are a +bit of sunshine that has lost its way in the night."</p> + +<p>About her head she had wound a scarf of red yarn, and as she stood +taking it off, with the fire-light dancing among the kinks of her +flax-like hair, the old man stepped forward to help her.</p> + +<p>"Hands off," said Tom. "Don't touch her."</p> + +<p>"Wolfish protector of a lamb," the old man replied, "I ought to throw +you out; but it is not my mission to cast out devils."</p> + +<p>The girl sat down on a bench and Tom took a seat beside her; and with +many a giggle and a "quit that, now," they picked at each other. Old +Gid, in his splint-bottomed chair, leaned back against the wall and +feasted his eyes upon their antics. "Kittens," said he, "I will get you +a string and a button. Ah, Lord, I was once a delicious idiot."</p> + +<p>"And you've simply lost your deliciousness," Tom replied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, and in its place took up age. But with it came wisdom, Thomas."</p> + +<p>"But didn't it come too late?"</p> + +<p>"The wise utterance of a foolish youth," said the old man. "Yes, Thomas, +it came too late. Wisdom is not of much use to an old codger. He can't +profit by it himself and nobody wants his advice. Did I ever tell you +about the girl I loved? Ah, she was glorious. June was in her mouth and +October fell out of her hair."</p> + +<p>"And you didn't marry her because she was poor, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No, but because she was rich, Jimmie. She wanted me not; and she +married a wealthy fool and the imbecile made her happy. I could almost +forgive her for not loving me, for I was a mate on a steamboat, but to +let that fool make her happy—it was too much and I cast her out of my +mind. But when is your wedding to take place? In the sweet light of a +distant moon or within the sunshine of a few days?"</p> + +<p>"Hanged if I know."</p> + +<p>"Tom!" cried the girl, putting her hands over his mouth, "that's no way +to talk."</p> + +<p>"I said it to make you do that," he replied, his voice latticed by her +fingers and sounding afar off. He took her hands and pressed them to his +cheek.</p> + +<p>"A pretty picture, and I'll long remember you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> as you now sit on that +bench," said the old man. "Sallie, how old are you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir. Pap and mother couldn't put it down 'cause they +didn't know how to figger, and when I got so I could figger a little +they had dun forgot the year and the day of the month. Most of the time +when I'm by myself I feel old enough, but sometimes Uncle Wash calls me +foolish and then I'm awful young. But Aunt Martha never calls me foolish +'cause I help her in the kitchen."</p> + +<p>There came a scratching at the threshold. The old man got out of his +tilted chair and opened the door, and a dog, prancing in, lay down in +front of the fire, with his nose between his outstretched paws.</p> + +<p>"What a pretty dog," said the girl, and with a look out of one eye and +with a slight wag of the tail the dog acknowledged the compliment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's gallant," Gid replied, sitting down. "And he knows when a +truth has been told about him."</p> + +<p>"No good at hunting, is he?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"He is not a sportsman," Gid answered. "He pays his keep with +companionship. I sit here and read him to sleep nearly every night. He +tries to keep awake, but he can't. But as long as I read a lively book +he'll lie there and look up at me as if he enjoys it, and I believe he +does, but 'Benton's Thirty Years in the Amer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>ican Senate' will knock him +most any time. And old Whateley's logic makes him mighty drowsy. I +reckon you cubs have been to supper. If you haven't you may make +yourselves at home and cook something. Old Aunt Liza cooks for me, out +there in the other room, but she's generally away in the service of her +church and then I have to shift for myself."</p> + +<p>"We've been to supper," the girl spoke up, "but if you want something to +eat I'll cook it."</p> + +<p>"Bless your life, not a bite," the old man protested. "To eat now would +canker a memory. I took sacrament over at the Major's. Now, I'm going to +lean back here and I may talk or I may drop off to sleep, and in either +event just let me go. But if I doze off don't wake me, not even when you +get ready to leave. Just pull the door to and that's all."</p> + +<p>"Ain't you afraid to sleep here all by yourself?" the girl asked. "I'd +be afraid somebody'd slip in and grab me."</p> + +<p>"I could scarcely blame any one for grabbing you, my dear," the old man +replied, smiling upon her, "but as for myself, the grabber would get the +worst of it."</p> + +<p>A long time they sat and talked of neighborhood happenings, the death of +a burly man who it was never supposed could die before Wash Sanders was +laid away; they talked of the growing dissatisfaction among the negroes, +of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> church built by Father Brennon, of the trip to be taken to New +Orleans by Jim and Tom. The fire-light died down. A chunk fell and the +dog jumped up with a sniff and a sneeze. Old Gideon took no notice, for +leaning back against the wall he was softly snoring.</p> + +<p>"Let us leave him just as he is," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"But it looks cruel," the girl replied.</p> + +<p>"He suffers from sleeplessness; to wake him would be more cruel. Let's +do as he told us."</p> + +<p>The girl put the bench out of the way, that he might not fall over it in +the dark; and out of the room they tip-toed and silently they closed the +door. By the hand he led her to the road, and with a coo and a song they +strolled homeward. The clouds were scattered and acres of light lay on +the cleared land; but the woods were dark and the shadows were black, +and he walked with his arm about her. They heard the galloping of a +horse and stepped aside to let the rider pass, and when he had passed, +with his head in the moonlight and his horse in the dark, the young man +said: "I know that fellow."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you speak to him?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Because it wouldn't do for me to have any words with him. He's the man +that's trying to organize the negroes."</p> + +<p>He left her at Wash Sanders' gate; he heard her feet upon the steps, and +looking back he caught the kiss she threw at him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + + +<p>A steamboat ride to New Orleans will never lose its novelty. Romance +lies along the lower river. The land falls away and we look down upon +fields bounded by distant mist, and beyond that dim line one's fancy +gallops riotously. Not alone the passenger, but the seasoned captain of +the boat stands musing and motionless, gazing upon the scene. In his +mind he could carry the form and the rugged grandeur of a mountain; upon +a crag he could hang his recollection, but this flat endlessness is ever +an unencompassed mystery.</p> + +<p>The wind from the gulf was soft, and the two friends stood on the +hurricane-deck, charmed with a familiar view.</p> + +<p>"It is just as new to me now as it was when I was a boy, coming along +here with my father," said the giant. "And yet I don't see what makes it +interesting, no woods, nothing but a house here and there."</p> + +<p>"It always makes me think I'm going over the flat side of the globe, and +I catch myself wondering what's just beyond," Tom replied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> "There's the +city 'way round yonder. How long do you want to stay?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly."</p> + +<p>"Got any particular business down here?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, hesitatingly. "None that I know of."</p> + +<p>"Just pleasure, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I reckon we might call it that."</p> + +<p>"Might call it that? But I know why I'm here. I've come because you +wanted me to. There is nothing going on that I care to see. What is it +you're after?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, just want to look around a little."</p> + +<p>"All right, old fellow, I'm with you, but as soon as you get tired of +looking around I wish you'd let me know. It seems to me that I've been +gone a month already. You know why."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; but you've got a consolation that I never had—you know +what to expect when you get back."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's true, and may be you'll know what to expect one of these +days."</p> + +<p>From the museful distance the giant removed his gaze and upon the boy at +his side he bent a kindly look. "I have been reading a good deal of +late," he said, "and old Gid has told me that I am improving, but I have +found no book to speak a word of comfort to me. I took the heartache +away back yonder—but we won't talk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> about it. We'll poke around down +here a day or two and then go home."</p> + +<p>"But hang it, I thought you came to enjoy yourself and not to conjure up +things to make you sad."</p> + +<p>"You are right, and you shan't hear any more sad talk out of me."</p> + +<p>It was early in the forenoon when they stepped ashore and stood upon the +old levee. The splendid life of the Mississippi steamboat is fading, but +here the glow lingers, the twilight at the close of a fervid day. No +longer are seen the gilded names of famous competitors, "The Lee," "The +Natchez," but unheralded boats are numerous, and the deck-hands' chorus +comes with a swell over the water, and the wharf is a jungle of trade.</p> + +<p>In the French market they drank black coffee, listening to the strange +chatter about them, and then aimlessly they strolled away.</p> + +<p>"What's your programme?" the boy asked.</p> + +<p>"Haven't any."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to call on any of the cotton buyers?"</p> + +<p>"No, don't care to see them."</p> + +<p>"All right; I'll walk until you say quit."</p> + +<p>And thus they passed the day, with strolling about, halting to look at +an old tiled roof, a broken iron gate, a wrought iron balcony, a +snail-covered garden wall; and when evening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> was come they went to a +hotel to rest; but no sooner had night fallen than they went out again +to resume their walk.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Tom, beginning to lag, "I don't want to kick, but I'd +just like to know why I am fool enough to walk all day like a mule on a +tread-mill?"</p> + +<p>"You said you'd walk with me."</p> + +<p>"Said I would! Haven't I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the giant drawled, "in a manner."</p> + +<p>"If I haven't walked I don't know what you call walking. You have made a +machine of me, a corn-planter. Would you mind telling me where we are +going now?"</p> + +<p>"I confess I don't know," the giant answered.</p> + +<p>"Then let us look around and find out. Right now I'd rather be in old +Gid's house, sitting with somebody on a bench—and I'm going back +to-morrow. What fun is there in poking about this way like a couple of +gawks? You even pull me away from the supper table to tramp up and down +these streets. Hang it, I don't want to see people. Every face I see +is——"</p> + +<p>"A disappointment," said the giant.</p> + +<p>"Then why do you take the crowded side of the street? Let's go in here +and sit down a moment."</p> + +<p>They had halted in front of a music hall. From within proceeded the +husky song of a worn-out negro minstrel.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You may go in but I'll walk on," Jim replied. "It's nothing but a dive. +I'll go on down to the corner and wait for you. Don't stay long."</p> + +<p>Jim strode away and Tom went into the beer hall. At the far end was a +stage, and on it stood the minstrel, dimmed by intervening tobacco +smoke. The floor was covered with damp saw-dust. The place was thronged +with a motley crowd, sailors, gamblers, with here and there a sprinkle +of wayward respectability. Painted girls attended the tables and +everywhere was the slopping of beer and the stench of the cigarette.</p> + +<p>Tom was about to turn away when the sight of a company gathered about a +table halted him; and through the smoke his vision leaped and rested +upon—Louise. There was a rush, an over-turning of a table, the toppling +over of a tipsy man, and Tom stood confronting her. In a loud voice he +cried: "What the devil are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>She got up and held out her hand, but resentment entered her mind and +she drew it back. "What are <i>you</i> doing here?" she replied. "I've as +much right here as you have."</p> + +<p>"I'll show you about that!" he roared, his anger lifting his voice high +above the grumble and the sharp clack of the place. "I'll drag you out!"</p> + +<p>Beside her sat a solemnly-respectable man, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> up he got and quietly +said: "Your language is most insulting, sir."</p> + +<p>Tom did not wait to weigh the remark; indeed he did not hear it, for +like a bull-dog in a fury he lunged at the quiet man's throat, laid hold +of his collar, shoved him off to arm's length, and struck him, but the +blow glanced and the man jerked away. And then amid loud cries, the +over-turning of tables and the smashing of glasses, the furious +youngster felt himself seized by many hands. But he was a tiger and they +could not bear him to the floor. He broke loose and sprawled one man +upon the saw-dust. Others rushed upon him and again he was in a tangle +and a tug, but he tore himself from their hands, got a square blow at +the proprietor of the house and knocked him senseless. For a moment he +was free, and this moment was not left unimproved. From an upturned +table he wrenched a leg, and swinging it above his head he cleared his +way to a side door, and snatching it open, he sprung out into a small +court, just as the police were entering at the front of the house. In +the court a dim light was burning; at the end, but a few yards away, was +a rusty iron gate, and whether or not it was locked he never knew, for +throwing down his weapon he laid hold of a bar and with a jerk he tore +the gate from its rust-eaten hinges, threw it against a wall and was out +in the street. Now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> he ran, through an open space, into another street, +and then he walked, panting, looking back. It must have been difficult +to explain the cause of the disturbance for the police had not followed +him. He halted under a lamp hung above a narrow doorway. His hat was +gone, his coat was torn, and the bosom of his shirt was in shreds. The +short street was deserted, but he fancied that he heard footsteps, and +quickly he walked to a corner, and turning, saw Jim standing under a +lamp-post not far away. The giant was not looking toward him, and not +hearing his easy approach, did not turn his head until Tom was almost +within the shade-rim of the lamp.</p> + +<p>"Why, what the deuce have you been doing?" the giant cried, reaching him +at a stride. "You look like a drowned rat, and your neck is clawed. What +have you been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Row," the boy panted.</p> + +<p>"In that place? Come back and we'll clean it out. Come on."</p> + +<p>"No," said Tom, "let's get away from here. I've got something to tell +you. Let's circle round here somewhere and get a hat. I'll tell you when +we get back to the hotel, and you won't care to walk any more to-night +after I've told you."</p> + +<p>Jim might have been burning to know more, but he said nothing, for +dogged patience was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> part of his heroism. He took the boy's arm and +led him away, to a place where a hat was bought, and thence to the +hotel; and not until they were shut in a room did Tom attempt to tell +his story. And it was even then some minutes before he could proceed. +His anger was gone and sorrow was upon him. Several times he choked. And +then he told his story. With hard steps the giant walked about the room, +saying not a word; but he drooped as he halted at the window, as he +stood looking out upon the glimmering lights, far below.</p> + +<p>"You said I wouldn't want to walk to-night, but I must," he spoke, and +his voice had a smothered sound. "I am going out to look for her. And +now you know why I have been walking all day, gazing at the faces in the +crowd." He had turned from the glimmering lights and was looking at Tom. +"I traced that letter she wrote, and in my mind I settled that it must +have come from this place. But I didn't tell your mother what I +suspected; I kept it to myself."</p> + +<p>"If you go out again I'll go with you, Jim."</p> + +<p>"No, I insist upon going alone."</p> + +<p>He went out; and when he returned, just before the dawn, he found the +boy asleep on a chair. He took him up, put him upon a bed and sat +himself down at a window; and when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> Tom awoke, along toward ten o'clock, +the giant was still sitting there.</p> + +<p>"Jim."</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>"How long have you been in?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know."</p> + +<p>"You didn't—didn't find her?"</p> + +<p>"No. I went to the place where you had the fight—wish to the Lord I had +been with you—but of course couldn't learn anything. I was—was afraid +to ask about her. But I tramped around all night, and I went into all +sorts of places, looking for her, and all the time afraid that I might +find her. God, what am I talking about! Afraid of finding her! Why, she +couldn't be in a place where—where she oughtn't to be."</p> + +<p>"But she was!" the boy cried, bounding out upon the floor. "She was +and—Great God, I can hardly believe it, I don't realize it! I have been +so swallowed up that I haven't thought about her much lately—she's +crazy, Jim. Oh, she must be. She was the purest-minded girl——"</p> + +<p>The giant stopped him with an uplifting of his ponderous hand. "Don't +say any more. Don't say she <i>was</i> pure-minded. She <i>is</i> pure-minded. I +will find her and she shall tell me——"</p> + +<p>"She can't tell you anything to clear herself, Jim. She's lost—she's +crazy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She's an angel," said the giant.</p> + +<p>"My dear Jim, she's my sister and I loved her, but angels can't go——"</p> + +<p>"Don't say it."</p> + +<p>"I won't, but don't you be foolish. Truth is truth, and we have to look +at it whether we want to or not." He walked up and down the room. "Who +would have thought that such a thing could happen?" he went on. "It's a +dream. But why did she leave home when she knew how much we all loved +her? What made her run away from you when she knew how you loved her? +Jim, I'm going home to-day. Are you coming with me?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm going to stay here and look for her."</p> + +<p>"And when you have found her she'll treat you as she did me. She'll say +she has as much right there as you have. I don't believe it's any use. +Better come home with me."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm going to look for her, and if she'll marry me I'll bring her +home."</p> + +<p>"Jim, she is my sister, but—I won't say it. I love her, but I would +rather have seen her dead than where I saw her last night. I'm going +home."</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment." For a time he pondered and then he said: "You may tell +your mother, but don't tell the Major."</p> + +<p>"But why should it be kept from him? He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> ought to know it. We'll have to +tell him some time."</p> + +<p>"Some time, may be, but not now, and don't you even hint it to him, and +don't you tell Sallie. Don't tell any one but your mother. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I reckon you're right. I'll do as you tell me. Well, it's time +and I'm going."</p> + +<p>Jim went with him to the levee, saw him on a boat and then resumed his +search throughout the town. But he asked no questions; and three days +later when he went aboard the home-bound boat, he knew no more than he +had known the night when the boy had told his story.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + + +<p>The night was rainy and a fierce wind was blowing. The Major and his +wife were by the fire in the sitting-room, when there came a heavy tread +upon the porch, but the knock that fell upon the door was gentle. They +knew who had come, and the door was opened for Jim Taylor. Quietly he +responded to their greeting, and with both hands he took off his slouch +hat, went to the fireplace and over the blaze shook it.</p> + +<p>"Put myself in mind of a wet dog," he said. "Didn't think to shake +outside. How are you all getting along?"</p> + +<p>He was looking at Mrs. Cranceford, but the Major answered him. "In the +same old way. Tilt that cat out of the rocking-chair and sit down."</p> + +<p>"Have you heard of the death of Mrs. Wash Sanders?" Mrs. Cranceford +asked, fearing that the Major might get ahead of her with this piece of +news, but all along determined that he should not.</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't," he said; but his want of surprise was not satisfying, +and Mrs. Cranceford said: "I mean Mrs. Wash Sanders."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; but this is the first I've heard of it. I came from the +boat right up here. So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> the poor woman's dead? She never knew anything +but hard work. How long was she sick? Shouldn't think she could take the +time to be sick long, poor soul."</p> + +<p>"She was not in bed more than two days. It was awful, the way she +suffered. And all the time Wash was whining that he couldn't eat +anything, as if anybody cared. I never was so provoked at a man in my +life. I'd like to know who cares whether he eats another bite or not. +Actually, I believe he thought the neighbors had come to sympathize with +him instead of to nurse his wife. And when she was dead he went about +blubbering that he couldn't live but a few days."</p> + +<p>"He'll outlive us all," said the Major. "He told us yesterday that he +was threatened with convulsions, and Gid swore that a convulsion was +about the last thing he ought to fear, that he was too lazy to entertain +such an exertion."</p> + +<p>In this talk Jim felt not even the slightest interest. He wanted to talk +about Louise. But not in Mrs. Cranceford's manner nor in her eyes when +she looked straight at him was there a hint that Tom had told her that +the girl had been seen. Perhaps the boy had decided to elect him to this +unenviable office. The Major asked him about his trip, but he answered +as if he cared not what he said; but when shortly afterward the Major +went out, Taylor's uncon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>cern fell from him and he stood up and in +tremulous anxiousness looked at Mrs. Cranceford, expecting her to say +something. Surely Tom had told her nothing, for she quietly smiled at +him as he stood there, awkwardly and distressfully fumbling with +himself.</p> + +<p>"I have a letter from her," she said.</p> + +<p>Taylor sat down hard. "A letter from her!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; received it this morning."</p> + +<p>"But has Tom told you anything?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; everything."</p> + +<p>"And she has written to you since then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I will show you." On a corner of the mantel-piece was a work-box, +and unlocking it, she took out a letter and handed it to him. "Read it," +she said, "and if you hear the Major coming, put it away. Some +references in it would have to be explained, and so I have decided not +to let him see it."</p> + +<p>He took the letter, and standing where the light from the hanging lamp +fell brightest, read the following:</p> + +<p>"My Dear Mother:—By this time Tom must have told you of our meeting. +And what a meeting it was. He was worse than an orang-outang, but I must +say that I admire his courage, and I struggled to help him when he was +in the thick of his fight, but my friends tore me away, realizing that +flight was our only redemption. Of course you will wonder why I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> in +such a place, and I don't know that I can explain in a satisfactory +manner to you, and surely not to father. I would have introduced Tom to +my friends had he given me time, but it appears that he was in too much +of a hurry to attend upon the demands of politeness. Fight was boiling +in his blood and it had to bubble out. Mother, I was with a slumming +party. Do you know what a slumming party is? It is a number of +respectable people whom curiosity leads into the resorts of crime and +vice. Society thinks that it makes one wiser, and that to know the +aspect of depravity does not make one less innocent. But I know that you +will not approve of a slumming party, and I cannot say that I do. The +Rev. H. Markham, whose sermons you must have read, was with me. As the +champion of virtue he has planned and executed an invasion of the haunts +of iniquity, and his weekly discourses here are very popular, +particularly with women. Well, he was sitting beside me, and I have +since thought that it must have been a great shock to his dignity when +Tom struck him; but his greatest solicitude was the fear that the +occurrence might be spread by the newspapers, and to keep it out was his +first care. That night on business I left the city, and I write this in +a quiet, Arcadian neighborhood. It is with pleasure that I feel myself a +success in the work which I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> chosen. What work? you naturally ask. +But that is my secret, and I must hold it just a little longer."</p> + +<p>Here several lines were erased and a fresh start taken. "I have longed +to look upon the dear faces at home; but mingled with my love is a +pride. I am determined to make something of myself. Simply to be an +honest, patient, upright woman, in love with her home, is no longer +enough. Life demands more than this, or at least woman demands it of +life. And to be somebody calls for sacrifice as well as ability and +determination. Absence from home is my sacrifice, and what my effort is +you shall know in due time. It will surprise you, and in this to me will +lie a delight. My associates tell me that I am different from anyone +else, but this difference they put down as an individuality, and success +in my field is won only by the individual. Within two weeks from this +day I shall be with you, and then my little ant-hill of mystery will be +torn to pieces. I am going to show you all how I love you; I am going to +prove to you that what has appeared odd and unlady-like were but +leadings to my development."</p> + +<p>More lines were erased, and then the letter thus proceeded:</p> + +<p>"For some time I have had it in mind to make Sallie Pruitt a present, +but as I have no idea as to what she might like best, I enclose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> twenty +dollars, which you will please give to her. Do you see my hero often? I +think of him, dream of him, and my heart will never know a perfect home +until his love has built a mansion for it."</p> + +<p>The letter was fluttering in the giant's hand. "Who—who—what does she +mean?"</p> + +<p>"She means you, stupid!" Mrs. Cranceford cried.</p> + +<p>He looked up, dazed; he put out his hand, he grabbed his hat, he +snatched the door open and was out in the wind and the rain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + + +<p>With rain-soaked sand the road was heavy, and to walk was to struggle, +but not so to the giant treading his way homeward. Coming, he had felt +the opposition of the wind, the rain and the mushy sand, but returning +he found neither in the wind nor in the sand a foe to progress. His +heart was leaping, and with it his feet were keeping pace. In his hand +he held the letter; and feeling it begin to cool in his grasp, he +realized that the rain was beating upon it; so, holding in common with +all patient men the instincts of a woman, he put the wet paper in his +bosom and tightly buttoned his coat about it. Suddenly he halted; the +pitiful howling of a dog smote his ear. At the edge of a small field +lying close to the road was a negro's cabin, and from that quarter came +the dog's distressful outcry. Jim stepped up to the fence and listened +for any human-made noise that might proceed from the cabin, but there +came none—the place was dark and deserted. "They have gone away and +left him shut up somewhere," he mused, as he began to climb the fence. +The top rail broke under his weight, and his mind flew back to the day +when he had seen Louise in the road,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> confronted by the burly leader of +a sheepfold, for then with climbing a fence he had broken the top rail.</p> + +<p>He found the dog shut in a corn-crib, and the door was locked. But with +a jerk he pulled out the staple, thinking not upon the infraction of +breaking a lock, but glad to be of service even to a hound.</p> + +<p>"Come out, old fellow," he called, and he heard the dog's tail thrashing +the corn husks. "Come on."</p> + +<p>The dog came to the door, licking at the hand of his rescuer; and Jim +was about to help him to the ground when a lantern flashed from a corner +of the crib. "What are you doing here?" a voice demanded.</p> + +<p>A white man stepped forward and close behind him a negro followed. "What +are you doing here?" the white man again demanded.</p> + +<p>"Getting a dog out of trouble."</p> + +<p>"Getting yourself into trouble, you'd better say. What right have you to +poke about at night, breaking people's locks?"</p> + +<p>"None at all, I am forced to acknowledge. I hardly thought of what I was +doing. My only aim was to help the dog."</p> + +<p>"That will do to tell."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so. And by the way, what right have you to ask so many +questions? You don't live here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But he does," the white man replied, swinging his lantern toward the +negro. "Gabe Little lives here."</p> + +<p>"That you, Gabe?" Taylor asked.</p> + +<p>"Yas, whut de white folks has left o' me."</p> + +<p>"All right. You are well enough acquainted with me to know that I +wouldn't break a lock——"</p> + +<p>"But you have, sir," the white man insisted.</p> + +<p>"Not exactly; but I have drawn the staple. By the way, whose dog is +this?" The dog had jumped out and was frisking about Taylor's legs. +"It's a setter and doesn't belong to you, Gabe."</p> + +<p>"Dat's fur me ter say, sah," the negro sullenly replied.</p> + +<p>"That so? Well, I guess I'll keep him until I find out his owner."</p> + +<p>"That's neither here nor there!" the white man almost shouted. "The +question is, what right have you got to go to a man's house at night and +break his lock?"</p> + +<p>"None, I tell you; and I'm not only willing to pay all damages, but will +answer to the law."</p> + +<p>"The law!" and this time he shouted. "Law to protect a negro's lock? Let +us hear no more about the law. What we want is justice, and we're going +to have it, sooner or later."</p> + +<p>"Who are you, anyway?" the giant asked. "Oh, yes, you are Mr. Mayo, I +believe. Well, I'll bid you good-night."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wait. You have invaded this man's premises and committed a violence."</p> + +<p>"That's a fact, and I'm sorry for it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are now, but how will you feel about it to-morrow? You'll +forget all about it, and that's the way the colored man is treated in +this infernal state. No, Gabe," he quickly added, taking hold of the +negro's arm, "Put it up. The time ain't ripe."</p> + +<p>The negro had drawn a knife, opening it with a spring, and with a loud +snap he closed it. "We mustn't be the first to strike, although they +break into our houses," Mayo said; and then speaking to Taylor he added: +"You may go."</p> + +<p>The giant threw back his head and laughed. "I may go. Why, if it wasn't +for the fact that I'm feeling particularly happy to-night, I'd mash your +mouth for that. I should think that your poor fool there would teach you +better than to talk to me that way. But I'll be a better friend to you +than you have taught him to be—I'll give you some very useful advice. +If you should ever see me coming along the road, turn back or climb the +fence, for I might not be in as good humor as I'm in now."</p> + +<p>He whistled and strode away, with the dog trotting at his heels; and by +the time he gained the road the occurrence had almost wholly passed out +of his mind, so fondly did his heart leap at the thought of the letter +in his bosom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p>Upon reaching a gate that opened into his meadow, he looked about and +whistled for the dog, but the setter was gone. "You were howling for +your master," the giant said, "and the greatest service I could do you +was to let you go to him. All right, old fellow, we are both happier for +having met."</p> + +<p>He went into the house, lighted his lamp, sat down, read the letter; he +went out and stood under the weeping-willow. "If I am foolish," he said, +"it is delicious to be a fool, and God pity the wise. But I don't know +what to do with myself. Yes, I do; I'll go over and see old Gideon."</p> + +<p>He considered not the increasing rain, the dreariness of the road, the +moanful wind in the tops of the trees; he felt that to be alone was to +suppress a part of his happiness, that his light and talkative heart +must seek a hearing for the babbling of its joy. So off he strode, and +as he climbed over a fence, he laughingly jolted himself upon the top +rail to see whether it would break. It did not, and he laughed to find a +stick of old timber strong enough to support his weight. He called +himself a lumbering fool and laughed again, sitting there with the rain +beating upon him.</p> + +<p>A short distance down the road was a wagon-maker's shop, and against the +outside wall a ladder was leaned. He thought of the ladder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> as he bore +to the edge of the road to avoid the deep ruts cut by the cotton-wagons, +and fearful that he might pass under it and thus invite ill luck, he +crossed to the other side. He smiled at this weakness, instilled by the +negroes, but he did not recross the road until he had passed far beyond +the shop. The old black mammy was lovable and affectionate, but she +intimidated man with many a superstition.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + + +<p>In old Gid's house a light was burning, and as the giant drew near, he +caught a fragment of a flat-boatman's song. He made no noise, but a dog +inside scented his approach and announced it with a whimsical bark. Gid +opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Why, here's Jim Taylor, as wet as a drowned bear. Come in."</p> + +<p>Sitting by the fire was the Major, with his coat off and his shirt +collar unbuttoned.</p> + +<p>"Why, James," said he, "you are making the rounds to-night. Sit down +here and dry yourself. And look at you, mud up to your knees. Why do you +tramp about this way? Why don't you ride?"</p> + +<p>"Too heavy," the giant answered.</p> + +<p>"Then, I gad," Gid replied, dragging his bench from against the wall and +sitting down upon it, "I know I'd ride. Do men ride for their own +comfort or for the horse's? And what difference do a few extra pounds +make to a horse? Why, if you were a horse somebody would ride you. You +are not fat, Jim; you are just big. And a horse doesn't mind a +well-proportioned fellow; it's the wabbling fat man that riles him. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +owned a horse once that would have been willing to go without corn a +whole week for a chance to kick a fat man; and I put it down as an +unreasonable cruelty until I found out that he had once belonged to a +fellow that weighed three hundred pounds."</p> + +<p>"And you afterward owned him," said the Major, winking at Jim.</p> + +<p>"That's what I said, John."</p> + +<p>"Now, Gid, I don't want to appear captious, but are you sure you ever +owned a horse?"</p> + +<p>"I bought that horse, John. I confess that it was with borrowed money, +but under the law he was mine. Ah, Lord," he sighed, "self-imposed +frankness will be gone when I am taken from you. And yet I get no +credit."</p> + +<p>"No credit!" cried the Major. "Credit has kept you from starving."</p> + +<p>"Tip-toe, John; my nerves are tight-strung. Would have starved! A +befitting reproach thrown at genius. Look up there!" he shouted, waving +his hand at the shelf whereon were piled his dingy books. "They never +owned a horse and they lived on credit, but they kept the world from +starving to death. And this reminds me that those sweet potatoes must be +about done. Your name is among the coals, Jim; we've got enough for all +hands. Wish we had some milk, but I couldn't get any. Dogs couldn't +catch the cow. You hear of cows giv<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>ing milk. Mine don't—I gad, I have +to grab her and take it away from her; and whenever you see milk in my +house you may know it's the record of a fight and that the cow got the +worst of it."</p> + +<p>Jim sat striving to think of something to say. The presence of the Major +had imposed a change in his forecast. His meeting of Mayo and the negro +suddenly recurred to him, and quietly he related the adventure. But the +Major and Gid were not quiet with hearing it.</p> + +<p>"You ought to have cut his throat!" Gid exclaimed. "To-morrow get your +gun and shoot him down—both of them, like dogs. Who ever heard of such +a thing, saying to a gentleman, 'now you may go!' I gad, I'll go with +you, and we'll shoot 'em down."</p> + +<p>"No," said the Major, and now with his hands behind him he was slowly +pacing the floor. "That won't do."</p> + +<p>"Why won't it do?" Gid cried. "Has the time come when a white man must +stand all sorts of abuse simply because he is white? Must he stand +flat-footed and swallow every insult that a scoundrel is pleased to +stuff into his mouth?"</p> + +<p>The Major sat down. "Let me remind you of something," he said. "For the +average man, under ordinary circumstances, it is enough to have simple +justice on his side, but on our side we must have more than justice. No +people<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> in the world were ever situated as we now are, for even by our +brothers we shall be deemed wrong, no matter which way we turn."</p> + +<p>"Ah," Gid cried, "then what's the use of calculating our turn? If we are +to be condemned anyway, what's the——"</p> + +<p>"Hold on a moment," the Major struck in, "and I will tell you. Sentiment +is against us; literature, with its roots running back into the harsh +soil of politics, is against us; and——"</p> + +<p>"No measured oratory, John. Get down on the ground."</p> + +<p>"Wait, I tell you!" the Major demanded. "I must get to it in my own way. +If your advice were followed, we should never be able to elect another +president. The bloody shirt would wave from every window in the North, +and from the northern point of view, justly so; and reviewed even by the +disinterested onlooker, we have not been wholly in the right."</p> + +<p>"The deuce we haven't!" Gid shouted, his eyes bulging.</p> + +<p>"No, not wholly; we couldn't be," the Major continued. "As +self-respecting men, as Anglo-Saxons, we could not submit to the +domination of former slaves. It was asking too much. We had ruled the +nation, and though we were finally overpowered, we could not accept the +negro as a ruler."</p> + +<p>"John, I know all that as well as you do; we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> have talked it many a +time, but what I want to get at is this: Has a man the right to resent +an insult? I was never cruel to a negro. I like him in his place, like +him better than I do the average white man, to tell the plain truth, for +between him and me there is the tie of irresponsibility, of +shiftlessness; but I don't want him to insult me; don't want to stand +any more from him than I would from a white man. You spoke of not being +able to elect another president. Why should we put up with so much +merely to say that a democrat is president? It doesn't make much +difference who's president, foreign nations keep on insulting us just +the same. I'd like to see a chief magistrate with nerve enough to say to +the South, 'Boys, go over and grab off Mexico.' That's me."</p> + +<p>The Major laughed. "That's me, too," he replied.</p> + +<p>"We ought to sweeten this country with Cuba," said Jim, with his mind on +the letter in his bosom.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gid replied, raising his hand, "that's what we ought to do, +and——" His hand fell, and he wheeled about and seized a poker. "I'll +bet a thousand dollars the potatoes are burned up," he said. "Just look +there," he added, raking out the charred remains of what was to be a +feast. "That's the way it goes. The devil titters when men argue. Well, +it can't be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>helped," he went on. "I did my part. If we had settled +upon killing that fellow Mayo, everything would have been all right. He +has not only insulted us but has robbed us as well."</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth," said the Major, "I'm glad I'm relieved of the +trouble of eating."</p> + +<p>"John, don't say that, for when a Southern man loses his appetite for +roasted sweet potatoes, he's a degenerate."</p> + +<p>The Major was about to say something, but looking at his watch he jumped +up. "Gracious, Gid, you not only kill your own time but murder mine. +It's nearly two o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, John. Don't be snatched."</p> + +<p>"Snatched! Wind-bag, you counsel me to blow my life away. Hold your lamp +out here so that I can see to get on my horse."</p> + +<p>When Gid returned from the passage wherein he had stood to shelter the +light, he found Jim on the bench, with no apparent intention of taking +his leave; and this he construed to mean that the giant had something on +his mind.</p> + +<p>"Out with it, Jimmie," he said, as he put the lamp upon the +mantel-piece. "I'll sit down here as if it was only early +candle-lighting, and let you tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>"How do you know I've got anything to say, Uncle Gideon?"</p> + +<p>"How do I know when a dog itches? I see him scratch. You have been +sitting there in an itching silence and now you begin to scratch. You +are more patient than a dog, for you don't scratch until you have itched +for some time. Let the fur fly, Jimmie."</p> + +<p>Jim laughed, raised his leg and clasped his hands over his knee. "Uncle +Gideon, I reckon I'm the happiest man in Cranceford County."</p> + +<p>The old man sat leaning back against the wall. His coat was off and +under his suspenders he had hooked his thumbs. "Go on, Jimmie; I'm +listening."</p> + +<p>"She has written another letter—Did Tom tell you anything?" he broke +off.</p> + +<p>"Did Tom ever tell me anything? Did Tom ever tell anybody anything? Did +he ever know anything to tell?"</p> + +<p>"She has written another letter and in it she confesses—I don't know +how to say it, Uncle Gideon."</p> + +<p>"Well, tell me and I'll say it for you. Confesses that she can be happy +with no one but you. Go on."</p> + +<p>"Who told you? Did Mrs. Cranceford?"</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, did Mrs. Cranceford ever tell me anything except to keep +off the grass? Nobody has told me anything. Confesses that you are the +only man that can make her happy. Now shoot your dye-stuff."</p> + +<p>"But that's all there is. She says that her heart will never have a home +until my love builds a mansion for it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Jimmie, if the highest market price for a fool was one hundred dollars, +you'd fetch two hundred."</p> + +<p>"Why? Because I believe her when she talks that way—when she gives me +to understand that she loves me?"</p> + +<p>"No; but because you didn't believe all along that she loved you."</p> + +<p>"How could I when she refused to marry me and married another man?"</p> + +<p>"That marriage is explained. You've seen the letter she wrote the night +before she went away, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, her mother showed it to me."</p> + +<p>"I didn't read it," said Gid, "but the Major gave me the points, and I +know that she married that fellow believing that she was saving his +soul."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I read that," said Jim, "but I didn't know whether she meant it or +not. I reckon I was afraid to believe it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I know it to be a fact—know it because I know her nature. She's +just crank enough——"</p> + +<p>"Don't say that," Jim protested, unclasping his hands from his knee and +straightening up. "Don't call her a crank when she's an angel."</p> + +<p>"That's all right, my dear boy, but heaven is full of the right sort of +cranks. Who serves God deeper than the religious crank, and if he's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> not +to be rewarded, who is? By crank I don't mean a weak-minded person; I +come nearer meaning a genius."</p> + +<p>"I reckon you mean all right," the giant agreed; and after pondering in +silence he asked: "Do you reckon she would marry me?"</p> + +<p>"I know it. And why not? You are a gentleman and a devilish good-looking +fellow. Why, any woman interested in a fine stock show would be proud of +you."</p> + +<p>At this the giant rubbed his hands together and softly chuckled; but +sobering, he said that he could never hope to equal her in thought and +quickness of expression, though by reading he would make an effort to +attain that end.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about that, Jimmie; and don't you fool yourself that books +are everything. They smooth knots, but they don't make timber. Oh, you +are smart enough—for a woman."</p> + +<p>"I'm not an idiot," said the giant. "Sometimes I can talk without any +trouble, and then again I can't say a thing. It's different with you."</p> + +<p>The old man's egotism awoke—it never more than dozed. "Jimmie," said +he, "it is violating no compact to tell you that I'm no common man. +Other men have a similar opinion of themselves and are afraid to spit it +out, but I'm bold as well as wise. I know that my opinion doesn't go for +much, for I'm too good-humored, too ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>proachable. The blitheness of my +nature invites familiarity. You go to a house and make too much of the +children, and the first thing you know they'll want to wallow on you all +the time. Well, I have made too much of the children of the world, and +they wallow on me. But I pinch them sometimes and laugh to hear them +squeal. There's only one person that I'm afraid of—Mrs. Cranceford. She +chills me and keeps me on the frozen dodge. I always feel that she is +reading me, and that makes me more of a rascal—trying to give her +something that she can't read. Look here, if we expect to get any sleep +we'd better be at it."</p> + +<p>"You go to bed, Uncle Gideon; I'm going to sit up."</p> + +<p>"All right; sit there as long as you please." The old fellow got up, and +walking stiffly went to the window, drew aside the red calico curtain +and looked out. "Don't see much promise of a clear-up," he said. "Not a +star in sight. I always dread the rainy season; it makes people look +sad, and I want to see them bright—I am most agreeable to them when +they're bright. Still, I understand that nothing is more tiresome than +eternal sunshine. I wonder if I locked the smokehouse," he went on, +turning from the window. "But, come to think, I don't believe I've +locked it since about a week ago, when some rascal slipped in and stole +nearly all my hams<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> and a bushel of meal. I gad, my old joints work like +rusty hinges. Well, I'll lie down now. Good night, Jimmie. Don't slip +off before breakfast."</p> + +<p>The giant did not hear him. He sat leaning forward, gazing at the +cliffs, the mountains, the valleys in the fire. The rain had ceased, but +now and then came a dashing shower, like a scouting party, a guerrilla +band sweeping through the dark. To the muser there was no time; time had +dribbled out and reverie had taken its place. The fire was dying. He saw +the red cliffs grow gray along the edges, age creeping over the rocks; +he saw a mountain fall into a whitening valley, and he looked up. It was +daylight. He went to the door and looked out, and far across the river +the brilliant morning sun was rising from a bath of steam.</p> + +<p>"You here yet, Jimmie?" The bed loudly creaked, and the giant, looking +about, found old Gid sitting on the edge of his couch, rubbing his eyes. +"Don't go, for we'll have breakfast now in a minute. I am always glad to +look up and find a picture of manliness and strength. It takes me back +to my own early days, when I didn't know the meaning of weakness. But I +know now—I can feel it all over me. I do think I can dream more foolish +things during three to half a dozen winks of sleep than any man that +ever lived.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> Now, what could have put it into my mind to dream that I +was born with one leg and was trying at a county fair to swap it off for +two? Well, I hear the old woman setting the table out there. Wait till I +jump into my clothes and I'll pour a gourd of water for you to wash your +face and hands. Had a wash-basin round here somewhere, but don't know +what became of it. Had intended to get another, but have been so busy. +But I'll tell you there's nothing like a good wash under a pouring +gourd. How's your appetite this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Well, you may find it when you sniff old Liza's corn cakes. Now what +the deuce became of that other suspender? We used to call them galluses +in my day. And now where is that infernal gallus? Beats anything I ever +saw in my life. Ah, there it is, over by the window. But how it could +have jumped off I don't know. Now let me shove into my old shoes and +I'll be with you."</p> + +<p>Out in the yard, in a fabulous net of gilded mist they stood, to bathe +under the spouting gourd, the mingling of a new day's poetry and the +shiftlessness of an old man. "Stream of silver in the gold of a +resurrected sun," he said, bareheaded and blinking. "Who'd want a +wash-pan? I gad, Jimmie, folks are forgetting how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> to live. They are +putting too much weight on what they can buy for money, unmindful of the +fact that the best things of this life are free. Look at that gourd, +old, with a sewed-up crack in it, and yet to my mind it serves its +purpose better than a china basin. Well, let's go in now and eat a bite. +I'm always hungry of a morning. An old fellow is nearer a boy when he +first gets up, you know; but he grows old mighty fast after he's had +breakfast."</p> + +<p>The giant, saying never a word, followed him, the loose boards of the +passageway between the two sections of the house creaking and groaning +as he trod upon them; and coming to the door he had to stoop, so low had +it been cut.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Jimmie, duck or you'll lay yourself out. I gad, the +world's full of traps set for big fellows. Now sit down there and fall +to. Don't feel very brash this morning, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I feel first-rate," Jim answered, sitting down.</p> + +<p>"Youth and love mixed," said the old man, placing himself at the head of +the board. "And ah, Lord, when we grow out of one and forget the other, +there's not much left to live for. I'd rather be a young fellow in love +than to be an emperor. Help yourself to a slab of that fried ham. She'll +bring the coffee pretty soon. Here she comes now. Waiting for you, Aunt +Liza. Have some hoe-cake, Jimmie. Yes, sir; youth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> and love constitute +the world, and all that follows is a mere makeshift. Thought may come, +but thought, after all, is but a dull compromise, Jimmie, a cold potato +instead of a hot roll. Love is noon, and wisdom at its best is only +evening. There are some quince preserves in that jar. Help yourself. +Thought about her all night, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"I think about her all the time, Uncle Gideon."</p> + +<p>"And Jimmie, it wouldn't surprise me if the world should think about her +after a while. That woman's a genius."</p> + +<p>"I hope not," the giant replied, looking up, and in his voice was a note +of distress, and in his eyes lay the shadow of a fear.</p> + +<p>"And why not, Jimmie?"</p> + +<p>"Because if she should turn out to be a genius she won't marry me."</p> + +<p>"That's where your perception is broken off at the end, Jimmie. In the +matter of marriage genius is mighty skittish of genius—it seeks the +constancy of the sturdy and commonplace. I'll try a dip of those +preserves. Now let me see. After breakfast you'd better lie down on my +bed and take a nap."</p> + +<p>"No, I must go. The Major is going over to Brantly to-day and I want him +to bring me a box of cartridges. I forgot to tell him last night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're thinking about Mayo, eh?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know but he did cross my mind. It occurred to me that he +might waylay me some night, and I don't want to stand out in the road +and dance while he's shooting at me."</p> + +<p>"That's right," said the old man. "A fellow cuts a mighty sorry figure +dancing under such circumstances. I've tried it."</p> + +<p>He shoved his chair back from the table and Jim got up to take his +leave. "Look out for the door, Jimmie. Duck as you go under or it will +lay you out. Traps set all through life for fellows of your size."</p> + +<p>Jim was not oppressed with weariness as he strode along the highway, for +in the crisp air a tonic was borne, but loss of sleep had made his +senses dreamy, and all things about him were touched with the spirit of +unreality—the dead leaves fluttering on the underbrush, the purple mist +rising from the fields, the water-mirrors flashing in the road; and so +surrendered was he to a listless brooding, forgetful even that he moved +along, that he did not notice, up the road, a man leap aside into the +woods. The man hid behind a tree, with his eye on the giant and with the +barrel of a pistol pressed hard against the bark. Jim passed on, with +his hands in his pockets, looking down; and when a clump of bushes, red +with frost-dyed leaves, hid him from view, Mayo came out from behind the +tree and resumed his journey down the road.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Major had mounted his horse at the gate and was on the point of +riding forth when Jim came up. "Why, good-morning, James," the old +gentleman heartily greeted him. "Have you just crawled out of that old +man's kennel? I see that the old owl must have kept you up all night. +Why, sir, if I were to listen to him I'd never get another wink of +sleep."</p> + +<p>"I kept myself up," said the giant; and then he added: "I wanted to see +you this morning, not very bad, but just to ask you to get me a box of +forty-fours when you go to Brantly to-day."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to find you so thoughtful," said the Major. "And I want to +tell you right now that you've got to look out for yourself. But staying +up all night is no way to begin. Go on into Tom's room and take a nap."</p> + +<p>The Major whistled as he rode along, not for want of serious reflection, +for he could easily have reached out and drawn in trouble, but because +the sharp air stirred his spirits. Nowhere was there a cloud—a +speckless day in the middle of a week that had threatened to keep the +sky besmirched. Roving bands of negro boys were hunting rabbits in the +fields, with dogs that leaped high in low places where dead weeds stood +brittle. The pop-eyed hare was startled from his bed among brambly +vines, and fierce shouts arose like the remembered yell of a Confederate +troop. The holidays were near, the crops were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> gathered, the winter's +wood was up, the hunting season open, but no negro fired a gun. At this +time of the year steamboatmen and tavern-keepers in the villages were +wont to look to Titus, Eli, Pompey, Sam, Caesar and Bill for their game, +and it was not an unusual sight to see them come loaded down with +rabbits and quails caught in traps, but now they sat sullen over the +fire by day, but were often met prowling about at night. This crossed +the Major's mind and drove away his cheerful whistling; and he was +deeply thinking when someone riding in haste reined in a horse abreast +of him. Looking up he recognized the priest.</p> + +<p>"Why, good morning, Mr. Brennon; how are you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I thank you. How far do you go?"</p> + +<p>"To Brantly."</p> + +<p>"That's fortunate," said the priest, "for I am selfish enough to let you +shorten the journey for me."</p> + +<p>"I can't do that," the Major laughed, "but we can divide it. I remember +overtaking a man one miserable day out in the Indian Territory. He was +ignorant, but he was quaint; he couldn't argue, but he could amuse, and +he did until he called me a liar, and there our roads split. Don't +think, from my telling you this, that I am in the least doubt as to the +desirability of your company on the road to Brantly. Been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> some time +since I've seen you, Mr. Brennon."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have been very busy."</p> + +<p>"And successfully so, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I am not in a position to complain," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"By the way, will you answer a few questions?"</p> + +<p>"Gladly, if they're answerable."</p> + +<p>"I think they are. Now, the negroes that come into your communion tell +you many things, drop idle gossip that may mean much. Did any of them +ever drop a hint of preparations which their brethren may or may not be +making to demand some unreasonable concession from the white people of +this community?"</p> + +<p>"What I have seen I am free to relate to you," the priest answered, "but +as to what has been told—well, that is quite another matter. I have +seen no preparations, but you doubtless remember a conversation we had +some time ago, and on that occasion I think we agreed that we might have +trouble sooner or later."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we were agreed upon that point," the Major replied, "but neither +of us professed to see trouble close at hand. For some time I have heard +it rumored that the negroes are meeting at night to drill, but I have +paid but little attention, giving them credit for more sense than to +believe that their uprising could be more than a short, and, to +themselves, a disastrous,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> struggle; but there is one aspect that +impresses me, the fact that they are taking no notice of the coming of +Christmas; for when this is the case you must know that the negro's +nature must have undergone a complete change. I don't quite understand +it. Why, sir, at present they can find no possible excuse for revolt. +The crops are gathered and they can make no demand for higher wages; no +election is near and they can't claim a political cause for +disaffection. If they want better pay for their labor, why didn't they +strike in the midst of the cotton-picking? That would have been their +time for trouble, if that's what they want."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they hadn't money enough to buy equipment, guns and +ammunition," the priest suggested. "Perhaps they needed the money that +the gathering of the crops would bring them."</p> + +<p>The Major looked at him. "I hadn't thought of that," he said. "But +surely the negroes have sense enough to know that the whites would +exterminate them within a week."</p> + +<p>It was some time before Father Brennon replied. His deliberation led the +Major to believe that he would speak from his abundant resources; and +the planter listened eagerly with his head turned to one side and with +his hand behind his ear. "It is possible," the priest began, "that the +negro had been harangued to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> conviction that he is to begin a +general revolt against capital, that labor organizations everywhere will +rise up when they hear that he has been bold enough to fire his gun."</p> + +<p>The Major's shoulders stiffened. "Sir, if you have known this, why +haven't you as a white man and a Southern gentleman told us of it? Why +haven't you warned us?"</p> + +<p>The priest smiled. "Your resentment is just," said he. "But the truth +is, it was not formulated as an opinion until late last night. I called +at your house this morning and was told that you had set out for the +county-seat. And I have overtaken you."</p> + +<p>The Major reined up his horse. Both horses stopped. "Mr. Brennon, you +are a gentleman, sir. My hand."</p> + +<p>They shook hands and rode on. The Major was deep in thought. "It has all +been brought about by that scoundrel Mayo," he said at last. "He has +instilled a most deadly poison into the minds of those people. I will +telegraph the governor and request him to send the state militia into +this community. The presence of the soldiers will dissolve this +threatened outbreak; and by the blood, sir, Mayo shall be convicted of +treason against the state and hanged on the public square in Brantly. +And that will be an end of it."</p> + +<p>The priest said nothing, and after a time the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> Major asked: "How are you +getting on with your work?"</p> + +<p>"I am greatly encouraged, and I wish I had more time."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you that the church can save the negro. Do you know a negro +named Bob Hackett?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he was a worthless politician, but they tell me that he has +withdrawn from active politics and gone to work. What about him?"</p> + +<p>"He is now a communicant of the church," the priest answered. "He +acknowledges a moral authority; and I make bold to say that should +trouble come, he will take no part in it. And I make still bolder to say +that the church, the foster mother of the soul of man, can in time +smooth all differences and establish peace and brotherly regard between +the white man and the negro. The Ethiopian cannot change his skin, but +true religion whitens his soul and makes him our brother."</p> + +<p>"Your sentiment is good," replied the Major, "but religion must +recognize an impossibility. The white man and the negro can never hold +each other in brotherly regard. Never."</p> + +<p>"Don't say never, Major. Men pass from fixed prejudices; the church is +eternal in its purpose. Don't say never."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, sir," cried the Major, standing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> in his stirrups, "I will +not say never; I will fix a time, and it shall be when the pyramids, +moldered to dust, are blown up and down the valley of the Nile."</p> + +<p>He let himself down with a jolt, and onward in silence they rode. And +now from a rise of ground the village of Brantly was in sight. The +priest halted. "I turn back here," he said.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brennon," the Major replied, "between you and me the question of +creed should not arise. You are a white man and a gentleman. My hand, +sir."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + + +<p>Brantly long ago was a completed town. For the most part it was built of +wood, and its appearance of decay was so general and so even as to +invite the suspicion that nearly all its building had been erected on +the same day. In the center of the town was the public square, and about +it were ranged the business houses, and in the midst of it stood the +court house with its paint blistered and its boards warping. It was +square, with a hall and offices below. Above was the court room, and +herein was still heard the dying echo of true oratory. On the top of +this building, once the pride of the county, was a frail tower, and in +it was a clock, always slow. It was never known to record an hour until +that hour had long since been due. Sometimes it would save up its +strokes upon the bell until fifty or more were accumulated, and then, in +the midst of an intense jury trial, it would slowly turn them loose. A +mathematician, a man who kept the dates of late and early frosts, had it +in his record that the hammer struck the bell sixty-eight times on the +afternoon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> when John Maffy was sentenced to be hanged, and that the +judge had to withhold his awful words until this flood of gathered time +was poured out. Once or twice the county court had appropriated money to +have the clock brought back within the bounds of reason, but a more +pressing need had always served to swallow up the sum thus set aside.</p> + +<p>A stone planted at one corner of the public square marked the site of a +bit of bloody history. Away back in the fifties a man named Antrem, from +New England, came to Brantly and, standing where the stone now stands, +made an abolition speech. It was so bold an impudence that the citizens +stood agape, scarcely able to believe their ears. At last the passive +astonishment was broken by a slave-owner named Peel. He drew two +pistols, handed one to the speaker, stepped off and told him to defend +himself. The New Englander had nerve. He did defend himself, and with +deadly effect. Both men were buried on the public square.</p> + +<p>A railway had skipped Brantly by ten long and sandy miles, and a new +town springing up about a station on the line—an up-start of yesterday, +four-fifths of it being a mere paper town, and the other fifth +consisting of cheap and hastily built stores, saloons, boarding houses, +a livery stable, a blacksmith shop, and a few roughly constructed +dwellings—clamored for the county<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> seat; and until this question was +finally settled old Brantly could not look with confidence toward any +improvement. Indeed, some of her business men stood ready to desert her +in the event that she should be beaten by the new town, and while all +were bravely willing to continue the fight against the up-start, every +one was slow to hazard his money to improve his home or his place of +business. Whenever a young man left Brantly it was predicted that he +would come to no good, and always there came a report that he was +gambling, or drinking himself to death. The mere fact that he desired to +leave the old town was fit proof of his general unworthiness to succeed +in life.</p> + +<p>The Major rode into town, nodding at the loungers whom he saw on the +corners of the streets, and tying his horse to the rack on the square, +went straightway to the shop of the only hardware dealer and asked for +cartridges.</p> + +<p>"My stock is running pretty low," said the dealer, wrapping up the +paste-board box. "I've sold more lately than I ever sold in any one +season before, and yet there's no game in the market."</p> + +<p>The Major whistled. "Who has been buying them?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Come to think of it I have sold the most to a Frenchman named +Larnage—lives over on the Potter place, I believe. And that reminds me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +that I'll have a new lot in to-day, ordered for him."</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about that fellow?" the Major asked.</p> + +<p>"Not very much."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't let him have another cartridge. Keep all you get. We'll +need them to protect life and property."</p> + +<p>"What! I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"I haven't time to explain now, for I'm reminded that I must go at once +to the telegraph office. Come over to the court-house."</p> + +<p>The Major sent a dispatch to the governor and then went to the county +clerk's office where he found the hardware dealer and a number of men +waiting for him. The report that he was charged with serious news was +already spread about; and when he entered, the clerk of the county +court, an old fellow with an ink-blot on his bald head, came forward +with an inquiry as to what had been meant when the Major spoke of the +cartridges. The Major explained his cause for alarm. Then followed a +brief silence, and then the old fellow who kept the records of the +frosts and the clock, spoke up with the assertion that for some time he +had expected it. "Billy," he said, speaking to the clerk, "I told you +the other day that we were going to have trouble mighty soon. Don't you +recollect?"</p> + +<p>"Don't believe I do, Uncle Parker."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I said so as sure as you are standing there this minute. Let me try +a little of your tobacco." The clerk handed him a plug, and biting off a +chew, the old man continued: "Yes, sir, I've had it in mind for a long +time."</p> + +<p>"Everybody has talked more or less about it," said the clerk.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know they have, Billy, but not p'intedly, as I have. Yes, sir, +bound to come."</p> + +<p>"The thing to do is to over-awe them," said the Major. "I have just +telegraphed the governor to send the militia down here. And by the way, +that fellow Mayo ought to be arrested without delay. Billy, is the +sheriff in his office?"</p> + +<p>"No, Major, he's gone down to Sassafras to break up a gang of negro +toughs that have opened a gambling den. He'll be back this evening and +I'll have the warrant ready for him by the time he gets back. Any of us +can swear it out—reckon all our names better go to it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the Major agreed, "we'd better observe the formalities of the +law. The militia will undo all that has been done, and as for the fellow +that brought about the inquietude, we'll see him hanged in front of this +door."</p> + +<p>Old man Parker, who kept the records, nudged his neighbor and said: +"Inquietude is the word. I told my wife last night, says I, 'Nancy, +whenever you want the right word, go to John Crance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>ford.' That's what I +said. Major; and I might have said go to your father if he was alive, +for he stood 'way up among the pictures, I tell you; and I reckon I +knowd him as well as any man in the county. I ricollect his duel with +Dabney."</p> + +<p>"He was to have fought a man named Anderson Green," replied the Major, +"but a compromise was effected."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Parker, "Green's the man I was tryin' to think of. It was +Shelton that fought Dabney."</p> + +<p>"Shelton fought Whitesides," said the Major.</p> + +<p>The men began to titter, "Well, then, who was it fought Dabney?"</p> + +<p>"Never heard of Dabney," the Major answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, I have, and somebody fought him, but it makes no difference. So, +in your father's case a compromise was effected. The right word again; +and that's what makes me say to my wife, 'Nancy, whenever you want the +right word go to John Cranceford;' and, as I said a while ago, your +father either, for I knowd him as well as any man, and was present at +the time he bought a flat-boat nigger named Pratt Boyce."</p> + +<p>"My father was once forced to sell, but he never bought a negro," the +Major replied.</p> + +<p>"That so? Well, now, who was it bought Pratt Boyce? You fellers shut up +your snortin'. I reckon I know what I'm talkin' about."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>The county judge and several other men came in and the talk concerning +the threatened negro outbreak was again taken up. "It seems rather +singular," said the Judge, "that we should worry through a storm of +politics and escape any very serious bloodshed and reach a climax after +all these years. Of course when two races of people, wholly at variance +in morals and social standing, inhabit the same community, there is +always more or less danger, still I don't think that the negroes have so +little sense——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, the point I made," the Major broke in. "But you see a labor plank +has been added to their platform of grievance."</p> + +<p>Parker nudged his neighbor. "I says, says I, 'Nancy, John Cranceford for +the right word.'"</p> + +<p>"There's something in that," the Judge replied. "Nothing can be madder +than misled labor. We have been singularly free from that sort of +disturbances, but I suppose our time must come sooner or later. But I +think the militia will have a good effect so far as the negroes +themselves are concerned. But of course if the soldiers come and the +trouble blows over without any demonstration whatever, there will be +considerable dissatisfaction among the people as to why such a step +should have been taken. Uncle Parker," he added, turning to the +record-keeper, "think we'll have much cold weather this winter?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>Parker did not answer at once. He knew that glibness would argue against +due meditation. "I see a good many signs," he slowly answered. "Hornets +hung their nests on the low limbs of the trees, and there are other +indications, still it largely depends on the condition of the wind. +Sometimes a change of wind knocks out all calculations, still, I feel +assured in saying that we are goin' to have a good deal of frost first +and last; but if the militia don't get here in time we are mighty apt to +have it hotter before we have it colder. Last night while I sat at home +by the fire a smokin' of my pipe, and Nancy a-settin' there a-nittin' a +pair of socks for a preacher, I looks up and I says, 'there's goin' to +be trouble in this community before many changes of the moon,' I says, +and I want at all surprised to-day when the Major here come a-ridin' in +with his news. Don't reckon any of you ricollect the time we come mighty +nigh havin' a nigger uprisin' before the war. But we nipped it in the +bud; and I know they hung a yaller feller that cost me fifteen hundred +dollars in gold."</p> + +<p>The old man was so pleased to find himself listened to by so large a +company that he squared himself for a longer discourse upon happenings +antedating the memory of any one present, but attention split off and +left him talking to a neighbor, who long ago was weary of the sage's +recollections. Wisdom lends its conceit to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> aged, and Parker was +very old; and when his neighbor gave him but a tired ear, he turned from +him and boldly demanded the Major's attention, but at this moment the +telegraph operator came in with a dispatch. And now all interests were +centered. The Major tore open the envelope and read aloud the following +from the governor:</p> + +<p>"Troops are at competitive drill in Mississippi. Have ordered them +home."</p> + +<p>The Major stood leaning with his elbow on the top of the clerk's tall +desk. He looked again at the dispatch, reading it to himself, and about +him was the sound of shuffling feet.</p> + +<p>"Well, it won't take them more than twenty-four hours to get home," he +said, "and that will be time enough. But Billy, we'd better not swear +out that warrant till they come."</p> + +<p>"That's wise," said the Judge, a cautious man. "His followers would not +stand to see him taken in by the civil authorities; it's not showy +enough."</p> + +<p>And Parker, speaking up, declared the Judge was right. "I ricollect the +militia come down here once durin' the days of the carpet-baggers, +and——"</p> + +<p>"But let no one speak of the dispatch having been sent to the governor," +said the Judge. "Billy, when the sheriff comes back you'd better tell +him to appoint forthwith at least a hundred deputies."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In fact," the Major replied, "every law-abiding man in the county might +be declared a deputy."</p> + +<p>Old Parker found his neighbor and nudged him. "I says to my wife, +'Nancy,' says I, 'whenever you want the right idee, go to John +Cranceford and you'll get it.'"</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Uncle Parker," the irritated man replied. "I don't +give a continental and you needn't keep on coming to me with it."</p> + +<p>"You don't? Then what sort of a man are you?"</p> + +<p>"You boys quit your mowling over there," the county clerk commanded.</p> + +<p>"Major," said the Judge, "the troops will doubtless come by boat and +land near your place. Don't you think it would be a good idea for you to +come over with them? The truth is you know our people are always more or +less prejudiced against militia, and it is therefore best to have a +well-known citizen come along with them."</p> + +<p>"I don't know but that you are right," said the Major. "Yes, I will come +with them."</p> + +<p>He bade the men good day and turned to go, and out into the hall the +Judge came following him. "By the way, Major," said he, "you are of +course willing to take all responsibility; and I'd a little rather you +wouldn't mention my name in connection with the militia's coming down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +here, for the ordering out of troops is always looked upon as a sort of +snap judgment."</p> + +<p>"I thought you said that you were not going to run for office again," +the Major bluntly replied.</p> + +<p>The Judge stammered and though the hall was but dimly lighted, the Major +saw that his face was growing red.</p> + +<p>"I have reconsidered that," confessed the politician, "and next season I +shall be a candidate for re-election."</p> + +<p>"And I will oppose you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Oppose me? And why so?"</p> + +<p>"Because you've got no nerve. I believe, sir, that in your smooth way +you once took occasion to say that Gideon Batts was a loud-mouth and +most imprudent man. But, sir, there is more merit in the loud bark of a +dog than in the soft tread of a cat. I will oppose you when the time +comes, but I will shoulder the responsibility of martial law in this +community. Good day, sir."</p> + +<p>"Major——"</p> + +<p>"I said good day, sir."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman strode hotly out to the rack where his horse was tied, +and thereabout was gathered a number of boys, discussing the coming +danger which in their shrewdness they had keenly sniffed. Among them he +distributed pieces of money, wherewith to buy picture books, he said, +but they replied that they were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> going to buy powder and he smiled upon +them as he mounted his horse to ride away.</p> + +<p>In the road not far distant from the town he met Larnage, the Frenchman. +The day before he would have passed him merely with a nod, as he +scarcely knew him by sight and had forgotten his name; but the hardware +dealer had recalled it and upon it had put an emphasis; so, reining up +his horse, he motioned the man to stop.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been in this neighborhood?" the Major asked. At this +abruptness the Frenchman was astonished.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Yes you do. How long have you been here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I understand that, but I do not understand why you should ask."</p> + +<p>"But can't you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"I can be so obliging. I have lived here two years."</p> + +<p>"And how long in the United States?"</p> + +<p>"Ten years. And now will you have the goodness to tell me why you wish +to know? Will you be so kind as I have been?"</p> + +<p>"Well, to be frank, I don't hear a very good report of you."</p> + +<p>"But who is appointed to make a report of me? I attend to my own +business, and is this a bad report to make of a citizen of the country? +If you will have the goodness to pardon me I will ride on."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wait a moment. Why are you buying so many cartridges?"</p> + +<p>The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. "Has not the citizen of the +country a right to spend his money? I have heard that the Major is +polite. He must not be well to-day. Shall I ride on now? Ah, I thank +you."</p> + +<p>Onward the Frenchman rode, and gazing back at him the Major mused: "The +frog-eater gave me the worst of it. But I believe he's a scoundrel all +the same. I didn't get at him in the right way. Sorry I said anything to +him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + + +<p>Upon reaching home shortly after nightfall the Major found visitors +waiting for him in the library—Wash Sanders, old Gid, Jim Taylor, Low, +and a red bewhiskered neighbor named Perdue. A bright fire was crackling +in the great fire-place; and with stories of early steamboat days upon +the Mississippi, Gid was regaling the company when the hero of the yarn +opened the door and looked in. Getting to their feet with a scuffle and +a clatter of shovel and tongs (which some one knocked down) they cried +him a welcome to his own house.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said the Major, "just wait till I eat a bite and I'll be +with you. Have you all been to supper?"</p> + +<p>"We have all been stuffed," Gid took the liberty to answer, "all but +Wash Sanders and he——"</p> + +<p>"Don't eat enough to keep a chicken alive," Sanders struck in. "Wish I +could eat with you, Major, but I ain't got no relish for vidults. But +I'm glad to know that other folks ain't that bad off. Jest go on and +take your time like we want here waitin' for you."</p> + +<p>While the Major was in the dining-room,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> Gid came out and told him that +the priest had said to him and to others that it might be well to call +at the Major's house immediately upon his return from Brantly.</p> + +<p>"He's all right," said the Major, getting up and taking the lead toward +the library. And when he had sat down in his chair, bottomed with +sheep-skin, he told his friends of his fears of a negro insurrection, of +the dispatch and of the answer from the governor; and he related his +talk with the Frenchman, whereupon Low, the Englishman, spoke up:</p> + +<p>"I know that chap. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that he put some +rascally black up to the trick of punching that hole in my bath. For a +time he came about my place quite a bit, you know, but I gave him to +understand one day that I vastly preferred to choose my own associates. +And you may rest with the assurance that he will be against the whites. +Ah, with a Frenchman it is never a question as to which side he shall +take. By jove, he always finds out which side the Englishman is on and +then takes the other. I have brought with me a bit of Scotch whisky and +I shall be pleased to have you gentlemen join me."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," said the Major. "I have some liquor that was distilled +sixty years ago by the grandfather of the commander of the Alabama. +We'll try that first."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good!" cried the Briton. "I can't deny the Alabama claim, you know." +And then he added: "Most extraordinary, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"Just wait till you smack your mouth on it," said Gid. "Why, sir, +there's the smile of a goddess in each drop and a 'Paradise Regained' in +a swallow. Sit down, Wash Sanders—a swig of it would shoot you into the +air like a rocket."</p> + +<p>"But really, Mr. Gid, I think a little of it would help my appetite," +Sanders replied, looking anxiously toward the Major.</p> + +<p>"Appetite!" Gid cried. "You can eat the hind leg of a rhinoceros right +now."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to insult me, sir?" Sanders retorted, weakly bristling up; +and the Major turning from the sideboard, with the odd-shaped bottle and +several glasses in his hands, looked at Batts and said: "Don't, Gid."</p> + +<p>"All right, but I was joking," the old rascal declared. "Wash and I +always prank with each other. You can take a joke, can't you, Wash?"</p> + +<p>"With the best of them," Sanders answered. "Yes, sir, and before the +doctors proved to me that I couldn't get well I was joking all the +time." He raised his hand and with his long finger nail scratched his +chin. "But they showed me that I couldn't get well and if that ain't +enough to sadden a man's life I don't know what is."</p> + +<p>"Now, gentlemen," said the Major, "I want you to help yourselves, and +not be afraid, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> the glasses are shallow and the bottle is deep."</p> + +<p>The red bewhiskered man Perdue, who had said nothing, took out his quid +of tobacco and with a loud "spat," threw it against the chimney-back. +"I'll join you," he said, grinning. "Never saw any liquor too old for +me."</p> + +<p>They stood and touched glasses. Gid walled his eyes like a steer, and +with a rub of his breast and an "ah-hah," he nodded at Low. "What do you +think of that?" he cried. "Isn't it a miracle?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, it is very smooth," Low answered, sipping. "Most uncommon I should +think."</p> + +<p>"Smooth," said Gid. "Did you say smooth? It is as silk woven in the loom +of a dream. Wash, how does it strike you?"</p> + +<p>"I think it will help me," Sanders answered.</p> + +<p>"Help you!" And under his breath Gid added: "Ought to kill you."</p> + +<p>"What did you say?" Sanders asked.</p> + +<p>"Said it wouldn't kill you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think not. Really, after a while I might be tempted to go out and +eat something. How are you gettin' along, Perdue?"</p> + +<p>"Shakin' hands with my grandfather in the speret," Perdue declared, and +running his fingers through his fiery whiskers he laughed with a hack +that cut like the bleat of a sheep.</p> + +<p>"Jim," said the Major, turning to Taylor, who had not left his seat, +"you'd better try a little. It won't hurt you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Major, I'm afraid of it."</p> + +<p>"Let him alone," Gid spoke. "One drink of this and he'd carry off the +gate, posts and all and leave them on the hill. Don't tempt him."</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said Perdue, "I have always made it a rule never to repeat +anything that my children say, for I know how such a thing bores folks, +but I will tell you what my son Ab said the other night. His mother was +gettin' him ready for bed—just a little more, Major. There, that's a +plenty. Mother was gettin' him ready for bed and he looked up——"</p> + +<p>"I feel the blood of youth mounting from the feet of the past to the +head of the present," Gid broke in. "I can jump a ten rail fence, staked +and ridered."</p> + +<p>"And I'm pretty jumpy myself," the Major declared. "But what were you +going to say, Perdue?"</p> + +<p>"I was goin' to say that I always make it a rule never to repeat +anything that my children say, for I have often had fellers bore me with +the smart sayin's of their children—and I know that most every man +thinks that his children are the brightest in the country and all +that—but the other night as my wife was gettin' Ab ready for bed he +looked up——"</p> + +<p>"We never had any children at our house," said Wash Sanders, scratching +his chin with his polished finger-nail, "but I jest as good as raised<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +one nephew. You remember Dan, don't you, Major?"</p> + +<p>"Mighty well. Went to Texas, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and got to cowboyin' around and was killed."</p> + +<p>"I recall that he was a very bright young man," said the Major. "But +what were you going to say, Perdue?"</p> + +<p>"I was goin' to say that I always make it a rule never to tell anything +that my children say, knowin' how it seems to pester folks, for I have +been nearly bored to death by fellers breakin' in and tellin' what they +of course thought was a powerful smart thing, said by one of their +children—so I am mighty keerful about such things, makin' it a rule +never to repeat anything said by my children, but the other night as my +wife was gettin' Ab ready for bed——"</p> + +<p>"Somebody's hollering helloa at the gate," said Jim. "Hush a minute. +There it is again."</p> + +<p>The Major went out and presently returned, bringing with him a large +blue envelope. "It's from the county clerk," he said, sitting down and +breaking the seal. "Brought by a deputy sheriff, and he said that he had +ridden hard all the way and was in a great hurry to get back. Let's see +what old Billy has to say." And now having put on his spectacles, he +read aloud the following:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Marcus T. Berry, sheriff of this the county of Cranceford, in the +State of Arkansas, did on this day seek to break up a den of negro +gamblers at Sassafras, in the before mentioned county of +Cranceford, and State as above set forth, and while in the +discharge of his duty, was then and there fired upon and so +desperately wounded that in his home in the town of Brantly, seat +of the said county of Cranceford, State as before mentioned, he now +lies at the point of death. The negroes claimed that they were not +gambling, but engaged in lawful merchandise; but be that as it may, +the sheriff and his posse were there and then fired upon, and +besides the wounding of the sheriff, two men were killed outright, +to-wit, one James Mattox and one Leon Smyers, and the same were +left there. The sheriff managed to make his escape, albeit he was +followed and repeatedly fired upon. And be it known that the report +now reaches here that the atrocity did not cease with the firing on +of the sheriff's posse, but that a sharp fight afterward took place +between negroes and white men near by; and we are now informed that +a strong force of negroes, at the instance of one Mayo, is now +gathering in the southwestern part of the county, preparatory to a +march upon this, the seat of the county of Cranceford. Therefore, +it behooves all good citizens to meet in the before mentioned town +for the defense of life and property, as it is here that the blow +is to fall.</p> + +<p>William N. Haines,</p> + +<p>Clerk of the County of Cranceford, in the State of Arkansas."</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>Scarcely observing a pause the Major had read the letter, and no word of +surprise had been spoken by his listeners; and now in silence they +looked at one another, Gid with his mouth open, Sanders with an +expression of pain.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Major, "that settles it."</p> + +<p>"By jove," the Englishman burst out, "I should rather say unsettles it. +I can't conceive of a settlement on that basis, you know. Those blacks +are positively annoying. First they punch a hole in my bath and then +they fire on a sheriff's party. I should call it a most extraordinary +approach toward the settlement of a difficult problem. But now, +gentlemen, if you'll join me we'll take a bit of Scotch whisky."</p> + +<p>Old Gid looked hard at him. "What?" said he, "insult old Semmes' liquid +music with a hot breath of peat smoke! Never, sir. And consequently I'll +take another glimpse at this mountain sunrise."</p> + +<p>The Englishman laughed. "You have a most extraordinary way of boasting, +you know. You may take your sunrise on the mountain, but I prefer this +moonlight in the heather. A glass about half full of water, please. +Thank you, very kind I assure you." The Briton sat and sipped his Scotch +while the Major paced up and down the room, hands behind him, deep in +thought. But soon he took his chair again, a proof that what now was to +come was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> not a speculation but the outline of a plan of action.</p> + +<p>"Where's Tom?" he asked, nodding at Gid, but with an eye upon Wash +Sanders.</p> + +<p>"Over at my house," Wash Sanders answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, when you go home, take this message to him. Say that I said go at +once to the neighbors for five miles below your house, along the county +road, and tell them that trouble of a serious nature has come—tell them +to meet, men, women and children, at my house by daylight in the +morning. Have him remind them that his house, on account of its +situation high above the river, is the easiest to defend, and that it +will accommodate more people than any other house in the neighborhood. +Tell the men, of course, to bring their arms and all the ammunition they +have. Explain that a sufficient number of men will be left here to +protect the women and children, while the large majority of us will make +all possible haste to the county seat. Tell the men to come mounted. Now +is it clear to you?"</p> + +<p>"Major," Wash Sanders spoke up with more than his usual show of spirit, +"the doctors have condemned my body but they hain't condemned my mind. +It is clear to me, sir, and I will go now."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the Major. "And Jim," he added, "you do the same with +the upper end of the road."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<p>The giant was smoking. He stood his pipe against a corner of the +fire-place, got up and without saying a word, strode away. Wash Sanders +was soon gone, after halting at the door to say that he might not be +able to eat enough to keep a setting hen alive, but that he reckoned he +could pull a trigger with any man that ever came over the pike. And now +the Major, old Gid and the Englishman sat looking into the fire.</p> + +<p>"War time, Gid," said the Major.</p> + +<p>"Yes, without banners and without glory," the old fellow replied.</p> + +<p>"You are right. In the opinion of the majority of Americans, bravery on +our part will be set down as a cruelty and a disgrace. The newspaper +press of the north will condemn us. But we can't help that, for a man +must protect his home. Mr. Low, there is nothing so unjust as politics."</p> + +<p>"We have had many examples of it in England, sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Major, "there have been examples of it everywhere. In +this country political influences have narrowed some of the broadest +minds."</p> + +<p>"In England political prejudices have killed poets," the Englishman +said.</p> + +<p>"And now," Gid put in, "while you are discussing the evil I will try a +little more of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> good. John, have another peep at the blue dome +above?"</p> + +<p>"No, I must go and give Mrs. Cranceford old Billy's letter."</p> + +<p>"Won't it alarm her?" the Englishman asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not in the least," the Major answered, and old Gid smiled. "You +couldn't scare her with a bell-mouth blunderbuss," he declared.</p> + +<p>The Major now had reached the door, but turning back he said: "You +gentlemen better sleep here to-night."</p> + +<p>In a state of apparent alarm the Englishman sprang to his feet. "My +bath," he cried. "No, I can't stop. I must have my bath."</p> + +<p>"But you can bathe here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I must have my own tub, you know. But I shall be here early at +morning. I must go now. Good night," he added, reaching the door. "You +are very kind, I assure you." And when thus he had taken his leave, the +Major, pointing at a lamp, said to Gid: "End room down the porch. Go to +bed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + + +<p>Early at morning, just as the dawn began to pale the sandy bluffs along +the shore, and while the cypress bottoms still lay under the blackness +of night, there came the trampling of horses, the low tones of men, the +sharp, nervous voices of women, and the cries of children untimely +gathered from their trundle-beds. The Major and his wife were ready to +receive this overflow of company. A spliced table was stretched nearly +the full length of the long hall, and a great kettle of coffee was +blubbering on the fire. There were but three negroes on the place, one +man and two women—the others had answered a call at midnight and had +gone away. But the remaining ones were faithful; at a drowsy hour they +left their beds and with no word of complaint took it upon themselves to +execute a new and hurried task. "Bill," said the Major, "I want you and +your wife and Polly to understand that I never forget such faithfulness +as you are now showing, and when I come back—but now is the best time. +Here are ten dollars apiece for you and you must remember that as long +as I live you shall never want for anything."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>Fifty men arrived before the east was flushed with the sun. It was +decided that ten of these, including Wash Sanders, should be left to +protect the women and children. The least active were chosen. All but +the younger ones had followed Lee through the dark days of his last +campaign. The Major took command and martial law prevailed. He buckled +on no sword but he looked like a soldier; and short, sharp sentences +that he had forgotten at the close of the war now came back to him.</p> + +<p>"Make ready, men. Time passes. Mount."</p> + +<p>There were pale faces in the hall and at the gate where the men sat +their horses, ready to ride, but there was bravery and no tears. The +command was drawn up; the Major, not yet mounted, stood talking to Wash +Sanders, when suddenly down the road a chant arose. All eyes were turned +that way, and strange to them was the sight they beheld—the Catholic +priest, with slow and solemn pace, treading the middle of the road, +holding high aloft a black crucifix; and behind him followed the negro +members of his church, men, women and children. He was leading his +people to the hills—out of danger. As the head of this weird procession +came opposite the gate, where now the Major stood with folded arms, the +priest gravely smiled and higher held his crucifix. And then, silently, +and looking neither to the right nor to the left, came out the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> three +negroes who had remained at home; and taking up the chant they joined +their brothers and sisters. They marched solemnly onward, turned into a +road that led to the hills, the wind hushing their chant, but the black +cross still seen high above their dusky, upturned faces. For full five +minutes the Major stood in silence, gazing, and then hastily mounting, +he shouted: "Forward!" and his troop swept down the road. He chose the +nearest course and it lay by the old house wherein Louise had lived; and +again he heard the wind moaning in the ragged plum thicket.</p> + +<p>Along the road the scattered houses were deserted, and in many a cabin +the fire-place was cold, and many a door stood open. Not a negro was +seen—yes, one, an old man drawn with rheumatism, sitting on a bench, +waiting for the sun to warm his joints.</p> + +<p>When the Major and his troop rode into the town they found it +quiet—under the weight of a heavy dread. They were looked upon from +windows, where men were posted, waiting; and obeying a shouted +instruction, the Major led his men to a long, low shed not far from the +scene of expected blood-flow, to stable their horses. Following them +came old Billy, the county clerk; and when the horses had been put away, +he came up and thus addressed the Major:</p> + +<p>"You are to take command."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right. What has been done?"</p> + +<p>"Not much of anything. Nothing could be done except to wait."</p> + +<p>"How many men have we?"</p> + +<p>"It is surprising how few," old Billy answered. "We didn't realize how +weak the white population was until danger came. We have about three +hundred, and more than a thousand negroes are marching on the town. We +held a sort of council this morning and agreed that we'd better post as +many as we can in the court-house. It commands all the streets and +besides we must save the records."</p> + +<p>They were now marching toward the court-house. "Where are the women and +children?" the Major inquired.</p> + +<p>"In the brick warehouse with a force of men near."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose you've done all you can. It would be nonsense to engage +them in the open, but with our men posted about the square not more than +two-thirds of them can get action at once. Those poor devils are as well +armed as we and are wrought upon by fanaticism. It is going to be +desperate for a time. At first they'll be furious. Has any one heard of +Mayo?"</p> + +<p>"He's at their head and the Frenchman is with him."</p> + +<p>"How is the sheriff?"</p> + +<p>"Dead."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>They filed into the court-house, where a number of men were already +gathered, posted above and below. "Bring an axe and cut loop-holes," the +Major commanded. "When the fight begins you can't very well fire from +the windows. How are you, Uncle Parker?"</p> + +<p>"Able to be about, Major. You wan't old enough for the Mexican War, was +you? No, of course not. But I was there and this here fightin' agin such +odds puts me in mind of it."</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Major." It was the voice of the County Judge.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, sir. I see you have a gun. Don't you think it impolitic? +But pardon me. This is no time for ill-humored banter."</p> + +<p>The Judge bowed. "Now I recall John Cranceford, the soldier," said he. +"This is a great pity that has come upon us, Major," he added.</p> + +<p>"Worse than that," the Major replied. "It is a curse. The first man who +landed a slave in America ought to have been hanged."</p> + +<p>"And what about the men who freed them?"</p> + +<p>"They were American soldiers, sir, as brave a body of men as ever trod +the face of the earth. Captain Batts, what are you trying to do there?"</p> + +<p>"Thought I'd take a nap," old Gid answered. "You can wake me up when the +fight begins—don't want to miss it."</p> + +<p>"If you go to sleep I will court-martial you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> sir. Superintend the +cutting of the loop-holes."</p> + +<p>"All right, don't believe I'm very sleepy anyway;" and as he shuffled +away the Englishman turned to the Major and asked:</p> + +<p>"And is he game, sir?"</p> + +<p>"As a lion," the Major answered.</p> + +<p>"But he blows, you know," said the Englishman.</p> + +<p>"And so does a lion roar, sir," the Major rejoined.</p> + +<p>The Major inspected the other posts, to the right and left of the +square, and then took active command of the lower floor of the +court-house; and when the holes had been cut Gid was told to command the +floor above. Tom Cranceford was ordered to serve on the floor above. At +this he began to grumble, pouting that he couldn't be in the rush if one +should come; but the Major stormed at him. "It is more dangerous up +there if that's what you want, and I'll be with you now and then to see +that you are kept busy. March this instant or I'll drive you to home +duty under Wash Sanders."</p> + +<p>From the windows and the loop-holes guns could be seen bristling +everywhere, and the minutes that passed were slow and weary with +waiting. Directly across from the court-house was a broad and low brick +store house, with but a single window above, facing the square; and the +Major looking at it for a time, turned to the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> clerk and said: "That +building is the strongest one in town, but no men appear to be posted in +it. Why so?"</p> + +<p>"The rear wall is torn out and the men would be unprotected from +behind," the clerk answered. "The wall was pulled down about a month +ago. Evans was going to have the house built deeper into the lot so he +could use it as a cotton shed, but hasn't."</p> + +<p>"Bad that it was left that way. How long since the last scout came in?"</p> + +<p>"About an hour and a half."</p> + +<p>"And where was the enemy then?"</p> + +<p>"In the neighborhood of Gum Springs."</p> + +<p>"That's bad. The militia won't have time to get here."</p> + +<p>The Major went above, where he found Gid's men posted at the windows and +the loop-holes. "How is everything?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Lovely, John."</p> + +<p>"Don't call me John."</p> + +<p>"All is well, Major."</p> + +<p>"Good." And after a time he added: "The south road is so crooked that we +don't command it very far, therefore look sharp. Back to your post!" he +stormed as Perdue looked up from his loop-hole. "This is no time for +idleness."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what time we eat," said Gid.</p> + +<p>"You may never eat another bite," the Major answered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then I don't reckon there's any use to worry about it, John, or Major, +I mean."</p> + +<p>The Major returned to the floor below. "This is getting to be quite a +lark," said the Englishman. "It's beastly cruel to fight, but after all +it is rather jolly, you know."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you think so, sir; I can't," the Major replied. "I regard it +as one of the worst calamities that ever befell this country."</p> + +<p>"Do you think there will be much pillage by the blacks—much burning of +houses?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly, but to sustain their cause their commander will hold them in +some sort of check. He is looking out for the opinion of labor unions, +the scoundrel. He is too sharp to give his war a political cast."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but to butcher is a beastly way to look after good opinion. What's +that?" the Englishman cried.</p> + +<p>From afar, through the stillness that lay along the south road, came the +popping of rifles; and then all was still. Then came the sounds of +hoofs, and then a riderless horse dashed across the square.</p> + +<p>"Steady, men, they are upon us!" the Major shouted, and then all again +was still. From the windows nothing could be seen down the road, and yet +the advance guard must be near, for a gun was fired much closer than +before. Now upon the square a rider dashed, and waving his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> hat he +cried: "They are coming through the fields!" He dismounted, struck his +horse with his hat to drive him out of danger and ran into the +court-house. The Major met him. "They will be here in no time," the man +said. "But how they got so close without my seeing them is a mystery to +me. But of course I expected to see them in the road and didn't look for +them in the fields. And that ain't all. They've got a cannon."</p> + +<p>"What!" the Major exclaimed, and the men at the loop-holes looked back +at him.</p> + +<p>"Yes," the scout went on, "and I know all about it. Just before the war +ended an enormous gun was spiked, dismantled and thrown into a well way +down on the Dinkler place. It was got out a good while afterward and the +spike drilled out, and since then it has been used for a Christmas gun. +Well, they've got that thing on an ox wagon, but they've got no way to +fire it for——"</p> + +<p>The guns to the right and left of the square blurted out, then came a +roar and a yell, and in an instant the opposite side of the square was +black with negroes pouring out from behind the low brick building. With +a howl and a rush they came, but from three sides volley after volley +was poured into them, the white men using their shot guns. The effect +was terrible, and soon the square was cleared of all but the dead and +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> wounded. A cessation fell, and Mayo's voice could be heard, +shouting at his men. He saw that to attempt to take the house by storm +was certain death, so to comparative safety behind the house and into a +deep-cut road a little farther back he withdrew his men. He had not +expected so early to find such opposition, and his aim was to crush with +the senseless weight of force, but the shot-guns were too deadly. Now he +was cool and cautious. The fire from the whites was straggling. Suddenly +out from behind the brick building rushed three black giants, torches in +hand, making desperately for the court-house. It was indeed a forlorn +hope, for one by one they fell, the last, so death-defying was he, that +he fell upon the steps and his torch flew from his hand into the hallway +and crackled on the floor. A man reached out to grasp it, but a +shattered arm was drawn back. "Not you, Major!" cried old Parker. +Outward he leaned, grabbing at the torch, but Mayo's guns swept the +hall. And when they drew the old man back, he brought the snapping pine, +but left his life. They laid him out upon the floor, stood for a moment +sadly to view him; and through a hole a bullet zipped and beside him +fell a neighbor.</p> + +<p>"Back to your places!" the Major commanded. Now the guns on the opposite +side of the square were silent. "They are lying low and our men can't +reach them," said the Major. "What are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> they up to now? Preparing for +another charge?"</p> + +<p>"Worse than that," said the man who had seen them in the fields. "They +have hoisted that cannon up into the brick building and are going to +poke it through the window. See there! See that big log up-ended? That's +to brace it. From where I lay I saw them just now breaking up an old +stove out in the lot and they are going to load with the fragments. I +killed two of them, but they got the stove away. Listen, don't you hear +them pounding it up?"</p> + +<p>"And this house will afford no more protection that so much paper," said +the Major, speaking low. "We have badly planned our defense. We are ill +protected from bullets, and a cannon will blow us into the air." And +then, moving from one to another, he looked through the loop-holes. +"Train every gun on that window," he commanded, "and shoot if a finger +is seen." Up the stairs he bounded. Old Gid was walking up and down the +room, softly whistling. "Pretty peppery, Major," he said, pointing to +three bodies stretched upon the floor.</p> + +<p>"Yes," the Major replied, "and it will be worse. We are doomed."</p> + +<p>"How so? Keep on rushing till they wear us out? I reckon not. It would +take five thousand men. God, but look at them lying out there. They were +desperate, but they are toned down."</p> + +<p>"They've got a cannon loaded with the frag<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>ments of a stove and will +fire it from that window," said the Major.</p> + +<p>Gid whistled and resumed his walk. The firing about the square was slow +and steady. From across the way there came no gun shot. "Got a cannon, +eh?" old Gid mused. "I wondered why they were so still," and then to the +Major he said: "They'll shell us out and mow us down at their leisure. +Who built this infernal court-house?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember," the Major answered, "but he ought to be in here now. +Train your guns on that window."</p> + +<p>The Major went below. Just as he reached the bottom of the stairway he +leaped forward with a cry. He saw Jim Taylor jump from a window out upon +the square. The Major ran to a loop-hole, pushed a man aside and looked +out. And now there was a belching of guns on the other side. Jim Taylor +caught up a child in his arms, and with bullets pecking up the dirt +about him and zipping against the wall, he dodged behind a corner of the +house. Then he ran across the protected side of the square. Near by, in +the door of a warehouse, a woman stood, shrieking. When she saw the +giant with her little boy in his arms she ran out to meet him, breaking +loose from the hands that strove to hold her, and snatching the little +fellow, she cried: "God bless you for this. I have so many little ones +to see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> to that he got out and went to look for his grandpa Parker. God +bless you, sir."</p> + +<p>The giant had seen old Parker lying dead on the floor, but he said +nothing; he turned about, and entering the court-house from the +protected side, was soon at his post. The Major stormed at him. "You've +lost all your sense," he cried. "You are a bull-calf, sir. Now see that +you don't leave your post again. Did they hit you?" he anxiously asked.</p> + +<p>"Don't believe they did," the giant grimly answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, they will in a minute. Look there!"</p> + +<p>The mouth of the cannon showed above the window, shoved through and now +rested on the ledge; and behind it arose an enormous log. From the +loop-holes in the court-house the gun was raked with buck-shot, but all +the work was done from below and no one stood exposed. Once a hand, like +a black bat, was seen upon the gun, but instantly it flew away, leaving +a blotch of blood. And now the old bell, so quiet all the morning, began +to strike—one, two, ten, thirty—slowly, with dread and solemn pauses.</p> + +<p>"Look!" the Major cried. A red-hot poker glowed above the cannon. +Buckshot hailed from a hundred guns, and the poker fell, but soon it +came again and this time flat upon the gun. The hand that held it was +nervous and fumbling. Suddenly the breech of the gun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> slipped lower down +the upright log. Up went the muzzle, and then came a deafening boom. +There was a crash over-head. The cupola of the court-house was +shattered, and down came the bell upon the roof, and off it rolled and +fell upon the ground with a clang. Out surged Mayo's men, but a fearful +volley met them, and amid loud cries and with stumbling over the dead +and the dying, torn and bleeding, they were driven back. But they set up +a yell when they saw the damage their gun had wrought. They could +foresee the havoc of a better managed fire. Now the yells were hushed. +The Major's men could hear a black Vulcan hammering his iron; then a +lesser noise—they were driving the scraps into the gun.</p> + +<p>"It will be worse this time," said the Major. "They have cut a deeper +niche in the log to hold the breech and there'll be no chance of its +slipping. These walls will be shattered like an eggshell. Steady, they +are at it."</p> + +<p>Again the gun lay across the window ledge. The red-hot poker bobbed up, +glowing in the dim light, but there was a crash and a rain of shot and +it flew back out of sight; and it must have been hurled through the rear +opening of the wall, for they were a long time in getting it. But it +came again, this time sparkling with white heat. The guns about the +square kept up an incessant fire, but over the powder the poker<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> bobbed, +and then—the whole town shook with the terrific jar, and windows +showered their glass upon the street, and through the smoke a thrilling +sight was seen—the roof of the brick building was blown into splinters +and in the air flew boots, hats and the fragments of men—the gun had +exploded.</p> + +<p>"Out and charge!" the Major shouted. "Forward, Captain Batts!" he cried +at the foot of the stairs, and the men came leaping down. The cry was +taken up, and from every building about the square the men were pouring. +Mayo had no time to rally his force; indeed, it was beyond his power, +for his men were panic-smitten. Into the fields and toward the woods +they ran for their lives. It was now a chase. Bang, to right and the +left, and in the fields the fleeing blacks were falling, one by one. +Once or twice they strove to make a stand, but hell snorted in their +faces—and death barked at their heels. In their terror they were swift, +but from afar the rifles sucked their blood. The woods were gained and +now they were better protected in their flight, dodging from tree to +tree; some of them faced about and white men fell, and thus was caution +forced upon the pursuers. So much time was gained that Mayo rallied the +most of his men, but not to stand and fight. He had another plan. In a +small open space, once a cotton patch, stood a large church, built of +logs, and thither he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> hastened his men, and therein they found a +fortress. The Major called in his scattered forces. They gathered in the +woods about the church.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to charge them?" old Gideon asked.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, that would be certain death to many of us. Hemmed in as they +now are they'll be deadly desperate. We'll have to manage it some other +way." A shower of buck-shot flew from the church.</p> + +<p>"I gad, Major, they've got buck-shot," said Gid. "And they could mow us +down before we could cross that place. They still outnumber us two to +one—packed in there like sardines. Don't you think we'd better scatter +about and peck at 'em when they show an eye? I'd like to know who built +that church. Confound him, he cut out too many windows to suit me."</p> + +<p>"Dodge down, men!" cried the Major. "Mr. Low, get back there, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Be so kind as to oblige me with the time," said Low. "The rascals have +smashed my watch. Punch a hole in my bath and then ruin my watch, you +know. Most extraordinary impudence, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"It is half-past three," said the Major. "And what a day it has been and +it is not done yet."</p> + +<p>Jim Taylor came forward. "Look out," said the Major. "They'll get you +the first thing you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> know. Why don't you pick up a few grains of sense +as you go along?"</p> + +<p>"Why don't some one scatter a few grains?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, sir. I want no back talk from you."</p> + +<p>"But I've got an idea," said the giant, with a broad grin.</p> + +<p>"Out with it."</p> + +<p>"Why, right over yonder is the Nelson plantation store-house," said Jim, +"and at the front end is the biggest door I ever saw, double oak and so +thickly studded with wrought-iron nails that their broad heads touch. +And my idea is this: Take that door, cut a round hole in the center with +a cold-chisel, cut down a good-sized cypress tree, round off one end, +fit it in the hole, with about five feet sticking through; let a lot of +us strong fellows gather up the tree and, protected by the door, use it +for a battering ram and punch that house down. Then we can work them +freely, as the fellow says."</p> + +<p>"Jim," the Major cried, "you are learning something. This day has +developed you. I believe that can be done. At least it is worth trying. +But, men, if it should be effective, let there be as little unnecessary +slaughter as possible. We are compelled to kill—well, we can't help it. +However, take Mayo alive if you possibly can. I want to see him hanged +on the public square. Now get the door. Here, Tom, you and Low cut down +a cypress tree. Here, Lacy, you help.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> Low doesn't know how to handle an +ax. We'd better begin operations over there on the left. There are fewer +windows on that side. We can batter down the door. No, there is a high +window above the door and they could shoot down upon us. That won't do. +We'll take the left side. See, there are but two windows, both close +together near the end. Look out, boys. Keep behind the trees. I wonder +how solid those logs are. When was that church built, Captain Batts?"</p> + +<p>"Don't remember the exact time, but not so very long ago. I recollect +that there was talk of a probable extension, the time that new +revivalist was having the house built, and that must account for the few +windows toward this end on the left. They've got a first-rate place to +shoot from, but what astonishes me is that Mayo should want to make a +stand when he must know that we'll get him sooner or later."</p> + +<p>"That's easily explained," said the scout who had dashed upon the public +square. "They are looking for a large body of reinforcements from the +south, and Mayo knows what to expect if he should run, panic-stricken, +into them. His only hope was in making a stand."</p> + +<p>"Where is Perdue?" the Major asked, looking about, from one tree to +another.</p> + +<p>"He fell back yonder in the field," old Gid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> answered. "I ran to him, +but he must have been dead by the time he hit the ground."</p> + +<p>The Major said nothing. He stood leaning against a tree looking toward +Jim and four other men coming with the heavy door.</p> + +<p>"And old Billy," said Gid, "is——"</p> + +<p>The Major turned about. "Well," he broke in.</p> + +<p>"You know," said Gid, "we used to say that he always had a blot of ink +on his head. But now he's lying back yonder with a spot of blood where +the ink was."</p> + +<p>The Major called to Jim: "Put it down there." And then speaking to Gid +he added: "That scoundrel must pay for this. Don't shoot him—don't even +break his legs—I want to see them dangle in front of the court-house +door."</p> + +<p>With a chisel and a hammer the giant worked, on his knees, and it was +almost like cutting through solid iron. The echo of his heavy blows +rumbled afar off throughout the timber-land.</p> + +<p>The detail of men came with the log, the body of a cypress tree, one end +smoothly rounded. Jim took his measurements and proceeded with his work. +Once he had to drag the door to a better-sheltered spot. Bullets from +the church were pecking up the dirt about him. Three times the piece of +timber was tried, to find that the hole in the door was not quite large +enough, but at last it went through and the giant smiled at the neatness +of the work. And now the ram was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> ready. The firing from the church had +fallen and all was silent.</p> + +<p>"It will take about eight men, four on a side—all strong young +fellows," said Taylor. "You old men stand back. Major, order Captain +Batts to let go the log."</p> + +<p>"Captain Batts, turn loose," the Major commanded. "You are too old for +such work."</p> + +<p>With a sigh old Gid stepped back, and sadly he looked upon the young men +as they took their places. "Yes, I'm getting old, John, but you needn't +keep telling me of it."</p> + +<p>"Sir, didn't I tell you not to call me John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I thought you'd forgotten it."</p> + +<p>Taylor and the Englishman were side by side, the log between them. Auger +holes had been bored in the shaft and strong oak pins had been driven in +to serve for handles.</p> + +<p>"Remember to keep a tight grip on your handle," said Jim.</p> + +<p>"I warrant that," the Briton replied. "Are we all ready? Really quite a +lark, you know."</p> + +<p>A stable had stood at the left boundary of the field, and one wall, cut +down, was now a part of the fence. Circling about to avoid the +undergrowth and at the same time to keep out of Mayo's range, the men +with the ram came up behind the old wall; and here they were halted to +wait until the Major properly placed his marksmen. He made the circuit +of the field, and com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>ing back, announced that all was ready. A score of +shot-guns were trained upon the two windows that looked out upon the +space between the stable wall and the church. Over the wall the door was +lifted, and the shot-guns roared, for the negroes had opened fire from +the windows, but necessary caution marred the effect of their aim. +Without a mishap the ram was lowered into the field. And now forward it +went, slowly at first, but faster and faster, the men on a run, the +lower edge of the door sweeping the old cotton stalks. Faster, with a +yell, and the men about the field stood ready to charge. Shot-guns +blazed from the windows, and shot like sharp sleet rattled off the heavy +nail-heads in the door. Faster, and with a stunning <i>bim</i> the ram was +driven against the house. But the logs lay firm. Back again, thirty +feet, another run and a ram, but the logs were firm. From the windows, +almost directly in front, the buck-shot poured, and glancing about, +plucked up the dirt like raindrops in a dusty road. Once more, back +still further, and again they drove with head-long force. The house +shook, the roof trembled, but the logs were sound and stubbornly lay in +place. Back again, but this time not to stop. "To the fence," Jim +ordered. A shout came from the church. The Major stamped the ground. +"Keep your places and wait for me," said Jim to his men. He leaped the +stable wall. "Here, young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> fellow," he called, "run over to that +store-house and bring a can of coal-oil. I was a fool not to think of +this before. Why, even if we were to batter down the house they would +kill us before our men could get there. Where is that axe?"</p> + +<p>He seized the axe and began to split a dry pine log. Every one +understood his plan; no one spoke. He split his kindling fine, whittled +off shavings with his knife, and gathering up his faggots waited for the +oil. The young fellow returned, running. Jim snatched the can and sprang +over the fence. The Englishman smiled when he took his place. "Really +you have quite an odd fancy, you know," he said.</p> + +<p>"Once more and easy," Jim commanded. "And may the Lord have mercy on +them. But it has to be done."</p> + +<p>Onward they went, leaning inward, treading slowly, and shot was sleeted +at them from the windows. But there was no quickening step as the house +was neared—it was a dead march. At a corner of the church they halted, +and Jim, putting down his oil can, close to the wall, piled his faggots +about it, and then, striking a match, set fire to the shavings.</p> + +<p>"Back!" he commanded.</p> + +<p>They reached the stable wall and stood there. The guns were silent. +Eagerly every one was gazing. Was the fire dying down? One long minute, +and then a dull explosion. A column of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> flame shot high into the air, a +rain of fire spattered down upon the church, and the roof was ablaze. +The white men, ready with their guns, heard a trampling and the +smothered cries of horror; and then the church door flew open and out +poured Mayo and his men. Three times they charged an opening in the line +about the fence, but unseen foes sprang up and mowed them down. But at +the last, fighting, desperate, yelling, they broke out of the +slaughter-pen and once more were in the woods. And now it was not even a +chase. It was a still-hunt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI_CONCLUSION" id="CHAPTER_XXVI_CONCLUSION"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.—CONCLUSION.</h2> + + +<p>Late in the afternoon, the news of the rout and the slaughter was +received at the Cranceford home. All day Wash Sanders and his men had +been sitting about, speculating, with but one stir of excitement, the +boom of Mayo's cannon. But this soon died away and they sat about, +swapping lies that were white with the mildew of time. But when news +came they sprang astir for now they knew that each man must look after +his own home, to protect it from fire. Some of them offered to remain, +but Mrs. Cranceford dismissed them, assuring them that her house, being +so public, was in no danger. So she was left, not alone, but with a +score of women and children.</p> + +<p>Afar off the guns could be heard, not in volleys, but the slow and fatal +firing of men taking aim. The sun was nearly down when a man climbed +over the fence and cautiously walked toward the house. In his hand he +held a pine torch. Mrs. Cranceford grabbed a gun and ran out upon the +porch.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing there?" she demanded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<p>Larnage, the Frenchman, looked up at her and politely bowed.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing there?" she repeated.</p> + +<p>"Ah, is it possible that Madam does not suspect?" he replied, slowly +turning his fire-brand, looking at the blaze as it licked the stewing +turpentine.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do suspect, you villain, and if you don't throw down that torch +this instant I'll blow your head off."</p> + +<p>She brought the gun to her shoulder. He saw her close one eye, taking +aim, and he stepped back and let his torch fall to the ground. "It shall +be as Madam wishes," he said.</p> + +<p>"Now you get out of this yard."</p> + +<p>"Madam has but to command."</p> + +<p>He passed through the gate and turned down the road; and upon him she +kept a steady eye. She saw him leave the road and go into the woods.</p> + +<p>Not far away was a potato-house, built over a cellar. To this frail +structure he set fire. The dry timbers soon fell into the pit, and he +stood there as if to warm himself. Night was his time for real work and +he would wait. The sun was almost down. He turned away, and looking +along the road that wound through the woods, he saw old Gideon coming. +Quickly he hastened to the road-side and stood behind a tree, with a +knife in his hand. Gid came slowly along. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> just as he came abreast +of the tree, his pop-eyes saw the fellow. He threw up his arm and caught +the knife on the barrel of his gun; then leaping, with the gun clubbed, +he struck at the Frenchman, but the fellow was too quick for him. "Oh, +if I only had a cartridge!" the old man said with a groan, running after +him. "I'd rather have a load of shot right now than a mortgage on +Jerusalem. But I'll follow you—I'll get you."</p> + +<p>Larnage was running, looking back, expecting to be shot; and stubbing +his toe he fell—head-long into the potato-cellar, into the pit of +red-hot coals. Ashes and a black smoke arose, and with frightful cries +he scrambled out, and with his charred clothes falling off him, he ran +to the bayou and plunged headforemost into the water. Gid saw him sink +and rise; saw him sink again; and long he waited, but the man did not +rise again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Down along the bayou where negro cabins were thickly set, fires were +springing up; and there, running from place to place, following white +men who bore torches, was Father Brennon.</p> + +<p>"Don't burn this house!" he cried. "It belongs to the church."</p> + +<p>"Damn the church!" a man replied.</p> + +<p>"But this house belongs to an innocent man—he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> would not seek to kill +the whites—he's gone to the hills."</p> + +<p>"I reckon you are right," said the man, and onward he ran, waving his +torch, the priest keeping close behind him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>From the woods the men were coming, and as Gid drew near to the +Cranceford house he saw Jim Taylor passing through the gate; and a few +moments later, turning a corner of the porch, he found the giant +standing there with his arm about—Louise.</p> + +<p>"Ho, the young rabbit!" the old man cried.</p> + +<p>"Frog," she laughed, running forward and giving him both her hands.</p> + +<p>"Why, how did you get here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I heard that the militia had been ordered home and I got here as soon +as I could. I have been home about two hours and mother and I—but where +is father?"</p> + +<p>"Hasn't he come yet? Why, I thought he was here. We've all been +scattered since the last stand."</p> + +<p>"I will go and look for him," said the giant, taking up his gun from +against the wall.</p> + +<p>"I'm going with you," Louise declared. "Go on in the house, Uncle +Gideon, and don't tell mother where I'm gone. Now, you needn't say a +word—I'm going."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> + +<p>Down the road they went, and out into the woods. Far away they saw the +cabins blazing, on the banks of the bayou, and occasionally a gun was +heard, a dull bark, deep in the woods.</p> + +<p>"You'd better go back," said Jim.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm going with you. Oh, but this must have been an awful day—but +let us not talk about it now." And after a time she said: "And you +didn't suspect that I was doing newspaper work. They tell me that I did +it well, too."</p> + +<p>"I read a story in a newspaper that reminded me of you," he said. "It +was called 'The Wing of a Bird.' It was beautiful."</p> + +<p>"I didn't think so," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Probably you didn't read it carefully," said he.</p> + +<p>"I didn't read it carefully enough before I handed it in, I'm afraid," +she replied.</p> + +<p>"Oh, and did you write it?" He looked down at her and she nodded her +head. "Yes, and I find that I do better with stories than at anything +else," she said. "I have three accepted in the North and I have a book +under way. That was the trouble with me, Jim; I wanted to write and I +didn't know what ailed me, I was a crank."</p> + +<p>"You are an angel."</p> + +<p>He was leading her by the hand, and she looked up at him, but said +nothing.</p> + +<p>Just in front of them they saw the dying glow of a cabin in coals. A +long clump of bushes hid the spot from view. They passed the bushes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +looking to the left, and suddenly the girl screamed. Not more than +twenty yards away stood the Major, with his back against a +tree—gripping the bent barrel of a gun; and ten feet from him stood +Mayo, slowly raising a pistol. She screamed and snatched the giant's gun +and fired it. Mayo wheeled about, dropped his pistol, clutched his bare +arm, and with the blood spouting up between his fingers he turned to +flee. Two white men sprang out in from of him, and the Major shouted: +"Don't kill him—he is to be hanged on the public square. I was trying +to take him alive—and had to knock down two of his men. Tie him."</p> + +<p>He held out his arms to Louise, and with her head on his breast and with +mischief in her eyes, she looked up and said: "I have more than a +daughter's claim on you. I have the claim of gallantry and upon this I +base my plea."</p> + +<p>He rebuked her with a hug and a kiss, saying not a word; but big Jim, +standing there, turned about, laughing.</p> + +<p>"What are you snorting at, Goliath? Has a David at last sunk a joke into +your head? Come, let us go to the house."</p> + +<p>"Father," said Louise, "I am going to show you how much I love you. And +oh, how I longed to rest in your arms the time you held them out to me, +in that desolate hall, the night of death; but I knew that if I yielded +I would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> go back to the nest with my wings untried. I had to go away. I +will tell you all about it, and I know that you will not be ashamed of +me."</p> + +<p>Silently they took their way homeward, choosing a shorter route; and +coming upon an oozy place in the woods, Jim said to Louise: "I'm going +to carry you in my arms." He did not wait for her to protest, but +gathered her in his arms, and her head lay upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Do you want my love to build a mansion for your heart?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>She put her arm about his neck.</p> + +<p>They came out into the hard road, and still he carried her, with her +arms tight about his neck. The Major looked on with a sad smile, for the +sights of the day were still red before his eyes. But banteringly, he +said: "First time I ever saw this hard road so muddy."</p> + +<p>Louise laughed, whispered to Jim and he eased her to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Why, they've burnt Wash Sanders' house!" the Major cried. "See, over +there?"</p> + +<p>They came opposite the place where the house had stood, and the Major +suddenly drawing back, said to Jim: "Lead her around that way. She +mustn't see this and she mustn't ask what it is."</p> + +<p>Jim led her away, and the Major looked at Wash Sanders. Across a low +rail fence his body lay, his hands drooping to the ground, and in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> front +of him lay a gun that had fallen from his grasp; and a short distance +away the Major found a mulatto, lying dead beside the road.</p> + +<p>At the Major's house the women were preparing supper. The hungry men, +some of them bleeding, had assembled in the yard. Darkness had fallen.</p> + +<p>"Father," said Tom, coming forward, leading Sallie Pruitt by the hand, +"mother says that this girl shall live with us."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the old man, putting his hands on Sallie's cheeks and +kissing her. "Yes, my dear, you shall live with us." And turning to Low, +he said: "You are a brave man. My hand, sir." And Low, grasping the old +man's hand, replied: "I am an Englishman, and my father is a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Gid," said the Major, "my name is John, God bless you."</p> + +<p>Down the road arose sharp words of command, and the burning top of a +tall pine snag threw its light upon bayonets in the highway. The +soldiers were come.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what is to be the end of this day's beginning," said the +Englishman.</p> + +<p>"God only knows," the Major replied.</p> + + + +<h3 style="margin-top: 2em;"><a name="THE_END" id="THE_END"></a>THE END.</h3> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's An Arkansas Planter, by Opie Percival Read + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ARKANSAS PLANTER *** + +***** This file should be named 19107-h.htm or 19107-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/1/0/19107/ + +Produced by David Garcia, Stacy Brown and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +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 +http://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 http://www.pglaf.org. + + +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. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. 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 http://pglaf.org + +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 http://pglaf.org + +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 checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is 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: + + http://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. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/19107-h/images/frontis.jpg b/19107-h/images/frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9704c20 --- /dev/null +++ b/19107-h/images/frontis.jpg diff --git a/19107.txt b/19107.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ebdf331 --- /dev/null +++ b/19107.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7977 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Arkansas Planter, by Opie Percival Read + +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: An Arkansas Planter + +Author: Opie Percival Read + +Release Date: August 23, 2006 [EBook #19107] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ARKANSAS PLANTER *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia, Stacy Brown and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +An Arkansas Planter + +BY + +OPIE READ, + + + AUTHOR OF + + "A Yankee from the West," + "The Waters of Caney Fork," + "Mrs. Annie Green," + "Up Terrapin River." + + + CHICAGO AND NEW YORK: + RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY, + PUBLISHERS. + + + + +AN ARKANSAS PLANTER. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Lying along the Arkansas River, a few miles below Little Rock, there is +a broad strip of country that was once the domain of a lordly race of +men. They were not lordly in the sense of conquest; no rusting armor +hung upon their walls; no ancient blood-stains blotched their +stairways--there were no skeletons in dungeons deep beneath the banquet +hall. But in their own opinion they were just as great as if they had +possessed these gracious marks of medieval distinction. Their country +was comparatively new, but their fathers came mostly from Virginia and +their whisky came wholly from Kentucky. Their cotton brought a high +price in the Liverpool market, their daughters were celebrated for +beauty, and their sons could hold their own with the poker players that +traveled up and down the Mississippi River. The slave trade had been +abolished, and, therefore, what remained of slavery was right; and in +proof of it the pulpit contributed its argument. Negro preachers with +wives scattered throughout the community urged their fellow bondsmen to +drop upon their knees and thank God for the privilege of following a +mule in a Christian land. The merciless work of driving the negroes to +their tasks was performed by men from the North. Many a son of New +England, who, with emotion, had listened to Phillips and to Garrison, +had afterward hired his harsh energies to the slave owner. And it was +this hard driving that taught the negro vaguely to despise the +abolitionist. But as a class the slaves were not unhappy. They were +ignorant, but the happiest song is sometimes sung by ignorance. They +believed the Bible as read to them by the preachers, and the Bible told +them that God had made them slaves; so, at evening, they twanged rude +strings and danced the "buck" under the boughs of the cottonwood tree. + +On the vine-shaded veranda the typical old planter was wont to sit, +looking up and down the road, watching for a friend or a stranger--any +one worthy to drink a gentleman's liquor, sir. His library was stocked +with romances. He knew English history as handed down to him by the +sentimentalist. He hated the name of king, but revered an aristocracy. +No business was transacted under his roof; the affairs of his estate +were administered in a small office, situated at the corner of the yard. +His wife and daughters, arrayed in imported finery, drove about in a +carriage. New Orleans was his social center, and he had been known to +pay as much as a thousand dollars for a family ticket to a ball at the +St. Charles hotel. His hospitality was known everywhere. He was slow to +anger, except when his honor was touched upon, and then he demanded an +apology or forced a fight. He was humorous, and yet the consciousness of +his own dignity often restrained his enjoyment of the ludicrous. When +the cotton was in bloom his possessions were beautiful. On a knoll he +could stand and imagine that the world was a sea of purple. + +That was the Arkansas planter years ago, before the great sentimental +storm swept down upon him, before an evening's tea-table talk in +Massachusetts became a tornado of iron in Virginia. When ragged and +heart-sore he returned from the army, from as brave a fight as man ever +engaged in, he sat down to dream over his vanished greatness. But his +dream was short. He went to work, not to re-establish his former +condition of ease--for that hope was beyond him--but to make a living +for his family. + +On a knoll overlooking the Arkansas River stood the Cranceford +homestead. The site was settled in 1832, by Captain Luke Cranceford, who +had distinguished himself in an Indian war. And here, not long +afterward, was born John Cranceford, who years later won applause as +commander of one of the most stubborn batteries of the Confederate +Army. The house was originally built of cypress logs, but as time passed +additions of boards and brick were made, resulting in a formless but +comfortable habitation, with broad passage ways and odd lolling places +set to entrap cool breezes. The plantation comprised about one thousand +acres. The land for the most part was level, but here and there a hill +arose, like a sudden jolt. From right to left the tract was divided by a +bayou, slow and dark. The land was so valuable that most of it had been +cleared years ago, but in the wooded stretches the timber was thick, and +in places the tops of the trees were laced together with wild grape +vines. Far away was a range of pine-covered hills, blue cones in the +distance. And here lived the poorer class of people, farmers who could +not hope to look to the production of cotton, but who for a mere +existence raised thin hogs and nubbins of corn. In the lowlands the +plantations were so large and the residences so far apart that the +country would have appeared thinly settled but for the negro quarters +here and there, log villages along the bayous. + +In this neighborhood Major John Cranceford was the most prominent +figure. The county was named in honor of his family. He was called a +progressive man. He accepted the yoke of reconstruction and wore it with +a laugh, until it pinched, and then he said nothing, except to tell his +neighbors that a better time was coming. And it came. The years passed, +and a man who had been prominent in the Confederate council became +Attorney-General of the American Nation, and men who had led desperate +charges against the Federal forces made speeches in the old capitol at +Washington. And thus the world was taught a lesson of forgiveness--of +the true greatness of man. + +In New Orleans the Major was known as a character, and his nerve was not +merely a matter of conjecture. Courage is supposed to hold a solemn +aspect, but the Major was the embodiment of heartiness. His laugh was +catching; even the negroes had it, slow, loud and long. Sometimes at +morning when a change of season had influenced him, he would slowly +stride up and down the porch, seeming to shake with joviality as he +walked. Years ago he had served as captain of a large steamboat, and +this at times gave him an air of bluff authority. He was a successful +river man, and was therefore noted for the vigor and newness of his +profanity. His wife was deeply religious, and year after year she +besought him to join the church, pleaded with him at evening when the +two children were kissed good night--and at last he stood the rector's +cross-examination and had his name placed upon the register. It was a +hard struggle, but he weeded out his oaths until but one was left--a +bold "by the blood." He said that he would part even with this safety +valve but that it would require time; and it did. The Major believed in +the gradual moral improvement of mankind, but he swore that the world +intellectually was going to the devil. And for this conviction he had a +graded proof. "Listen to me a minute," he was wont to say. "I'll make it +clear to you. My grandfather was graduated with great honors from +Harvard, my father was graduated with honor, I got through all right, +but my son Tom failed." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +One hot afternoon the Major sat in his library. The doors were open and +a cool breeze, making the circuitous route of the passage ways, swept +through the room, bulging a newspaper which he held opened out in front +of him. He was scanning the headlines to catch the impulsive moods of +the world. The parlor was not far away, down the hall, and voices +reached him. And then there came the distressing hack, hack, of a hollow +cough. He put down the newspaper, got up, and slowly strode about the +room, not shaking with joviality as he walked. In the parlor the voices +were hushed, there was a long silence, and then came the hollow cough. +He sat down and again took up the newspaper, but the cough, hack, hack, +smote him like the recurrence of a distressing thought, and he crumpled +the paper and threw it upon the floor. Out in the yard a negro woman was +singing; far down the stream a steamboat whistled. And again came the +hollow cough. There was another long silence, and then he heard light +footsteps in the hall. A young woman halted at the door and stood +looking at him. Her face was pale and appeared thin, so eager was her +expression. She was slight and nervous. + +"Well," he said. She smiled at him and said, "Well." Then she slowly +entered the room, and with a sigh took a seat near him. The cough from +the parlor was more distressful, and she looked at him, and in her eyes +was a beseeching sadness. + +"Louise." + +"Yes, sir." + +"What did I tell you?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"Don't say that, for you do know." + +"You've told me so many things--" + +"Yes, I know. But what did I tell you about Carl Pennington?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"Yes you do. I told you that I didn't want him to come here. Didn't I?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then why is he here?" + +"I met him and invited him to come." + +"Ah, ha. But I don't want him here; don't want you to see him." + +She sat looking at him as if she would study every line of his face. He +shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked down. The cough came +again, and he looked at the girl. "You know the reason I don't want you +to see him. Don't you?" + +"Yes, sir, and I know the reason why I do want to see him." + +"The devil--pardon me," he quickly added, withdrawing his hands from his +pockets and bowing to her. She slightly inclined her head and smiled +sadly. He looked hard at her, striving to read her thoughts; and she was +so frail, her face was so thin and her eyes so wistful that she smote +him with pity. He reached over and took one of her hands, and +affectionately she gave him the other one. She tried to laugh. The cough +came again, and she took her hands away. He reached for them, but she +put them behind her. "No, not until I have told you," she said, and he +saw her lip tremble. "He was afraid to come in here to see you," she +went on, speaking with timid slowness. "He is so weak and sick that he +can't stand to be scolded, so I have come to--" She hesitated. He shoved +himself back and looked hard at her, and his eyebrows stuck out +fiercely. + +"To ask me what?" His voice was dry and rasping. "What can you ask me? +To let him come here to see you? No, daughter. I can't permit that. And +I don't intend to be cruel when I say this. I am sorry for him, God +knows I deeply sympathize with him, but he must not hope to--" + +"I was not going to ask you to let him come," she broke in. "I am going +to ask you to let me go--go with him." + +"By the blood!" the Major exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "What do you +mean? Marry him?" + +"Yes, sir," she quietly answered. He looked at her, frowning, his face +puffed, his brows jagged. And then appearing to master himself he sat +down and strove to take her hand, but she held it behind her. "My +daughter, I want to talk to you, not in anger, but with common sense. It +actually horrifies me to think of your marriage--I can't do it, that's +all. Why, the poor fellow can't live three months; he is dead on his +feet now. Listen at that cough. Louise, how can you think of marrying +him? Haven't you any judgment at all? Is it possible that you have +lost--but I won't scold you; I must reason with you. There is time +enough for you to marry, and the sympathetic fancy that you have for +that poor fellow will soon pass away. It must. You've got plenty of +chances. Jim Taylor--" + +"Why do you speak of him, father?" + +"I speak of him because he loves you--because he is as fine a young +fellow as walks the face of the earth." + +"But, father, he is so big and strong that he doesn't need any one to +love him." + +At this the Major appeared not to know whether to laugh or to frown. +But he did neither; he sat for a time with his hands on his knees, +looking wonderingly, almost stupidly at her; and then he said: +"Nonsense. Where did you pick up that preposterous idea? So strong that +he doesn't need love! Why, strength demands love, and to a big man the +love of a little woman--" She drew back from him as he leaned toward her +and he did not complete the sentence. Her impatience made him frown. +"Won't you let me reason with you?" he asked. "Won't you help me to +suppress all appearance of displeasure?" + +"It is of no use," she replied. + +"What is of no use? Reason?" + +"Argument." + +"What! Do you mean--" + +"I mean that I am going to marry him." + +In her eyes there was no appeal, no pleading, for the look that she gave +him was hard and determined. Harsh words flew to the Major's mind, and +he shook with the repression of them; but he was silent. He shoved his +hands into his pockets and she heard his keys rattling. He arose with a +deep sigh, and now, with his hands behind him, walked up and down the +room. Suddenly he faced about and stood looking down upon her, at the +rose in her hair. + +"Louise, one night on a steamboat there was a rollicking dance. It was a +moonlight excursion. There was a splash and a cry that a woman had +fallen overboard. I leaped into the river, grasped her, held her head +above the stream, fighting the current. A boat was put out and we were +taken on board, and then by the light of a lantern I found that I had +saved the life of my own daughter. So, upon you, I have more than a +father's claim--the claim of gallantry, and this you cannot disregard, +and upon it I base my plea." + +She looked up straight at him; her lips were half open, but she said +nothing. + +"You don't seem to understand," he added, seeming to stiffen his +shoulders in resentment at the calmness with which she regarded him. "I +tell you that I waive the authority of a father and appeal to your +gratitude; I remind you that I saved your life--leaped into the cold +water and seized you, not knowing whose life I was striving to save at +the risk of losing my own. Isn't that worth some sort of return? Isn't +it worth even the sacrifice of a whim? Louise, don't look at me that +way. Is it possible that you don't grasp--" He hesitated and turned his +face toward the parlor whence came again the cough, hollow and +distressing. The sound died away, echoing down the hall, and a hen +clucked on the porch and a passage door slammed. + +"Louise," he said, looking at her. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you catch--" + +"I catch everything, father. It was noble of you to jump into the river +when you didn't know but that you might be drowned, and recognizing that +you risked your life, and feeling a deep gratitude, it is hard to repay +you with disobedience. Wait a moment, please. You must listen to me. It +is hard to repay you with disobedience, but it cannot be helped. You say +that Mr. Pennington is dying and I know that you speak the truth. He +knows that he is dying, and he appeals to me not to let him die +alone--not alone in words," she quickly added, "but with something +stronger than words, his helplessness, his despair. Other people have +appeared to shun him because he is dying, but--" + +"Hold on," he broke in. "I deny that. No one has shunned him because he +is dying. Everybody is sorry for him, and you know that I would do +anything for him." + +"Would you? Then let him die under this roof as my husband. Oh, look how +poor and thin he is, so helpless, and dying day by day, with no +relatives near him, with nothing in prospect but long nights of +suffering. Please don't tell me that I shan't take care of him, for I +feel that it is the strongest duty that will ever come to me. Listen how +he coughs. Doesn't it appeal to you? How can you refuse--how can you +remind me of the gratitude I owe you?" + +Tears were streaming down her face. He bent over her, placed his hands +upon her cheeks and kissed her, but instantly he drew back with his +resentful stiffening of the shoulders. + +"Louise, it can't be. No argument and no appeal can bring it about. It +makes me shudder to think of it. Really I can't understand it. The +situation to me is most unnatural. But I won't be harsh with you. But I +must say that I don't know where you get your stubbornness. No, I won't +be harsh. Let me tell you what I will agree to do. He may come to this +house and stay here until--may stay here and the best of care shall be +taken of him, and you may nurse him, but you must not bear his name. +Will you agree to this?" + +She shook her head. She had wiped away her tears and her eyes were +strong and determined. "After conceding so much I don't see why you +should refuse the vital point," she said. + +"I can tell you why, and I am afraid that I must." + +"Don't be afraid; simply tell me." + +"But, daughter, it would seem cruel." + +"Not if I demand it." + +"Then you do demand it? Well, you shall know. His father served a term +in the Louisiana penitentiary for forgery. And now you may ask why I +ever let him come into this house. I will tell you. He had been teaching +school here some time and I said nothing. One day during a rainstorm he +stopped at the gate. He was sick and I invited him to come in. After +that I could not find enough firmness to tell him not to come, he was so +pale and weak. I see now that it was a false sympathy. Do you understand +me? His father was a convict." + +"Yes, I understand. He told me." + +"By the blood on the Cross! Do you mean to say--Louise," he broke off, +gazing upon her, "your mind is unsettled. Yes, you are crazy, and, of +course, all your self-respect is gone. You needn't say a word, you are +crazy. You are--I don't know what you are, but I know what I am, and +now, after the uselessness of my appeal to your gratitude, I will assert +the authority of a father. You shall not marry him." + +"And would you kill a dying man?" she quietly asked. + +The question jolted him, and he shouted out: "What do you mean by such +nonsense? You know I wouldn't." + +"Then I will marry him." + +For a moment the Major's anger choked him. With many a dry rasp he +strove to speak, and just as he had made smoother a channel for his +words, he heard the hollow cough drawing nearer. He motioned toward a +door that opened in an opposite direction, and the girl, after +hesitating a moment, quickly stepped out upon a veranda that overlooked +the river. The Major turned his eyes toward the other door, and there +Pennington stood with a handkerchief tightly pressed to his mouth. For a +time they were silent, one strong and severe, the other tremulous and +almost spectral in the softened light. + +"There is a chair, sir," said the Major, pointing. + +"I thank you, sir; I don't care to sit down. I--I am very sorry that you +are compelled to look upon me as--as you do, sir. And it is all my +fault, I assure you, and I can't defend myself." + +He dropped his handkerchief and looked down as if he were afraid to +stoop to pick it up. The Major stepped forward, caught up the +handkerchief, handed it to him and stepped back. + +"Thank you, sir," Pennington said, bowing, and then, after a short +pause, he added: "I don't know what to say in explanation of--of myself. +But I should think, sir, that the strength of a man's love is a +sufficient defense of any weakness he may possess--I mean a sufficient +defense of any indiscretion that his love has led him to commit. This +situation stole upon me, and I was scarcely aware of its coming until it +was here. I didn't know how serious--" He coughed his words, and when he +became calmer, repeated his plea that love ought to excuse any weakness +in man. "Your daughter is an angel of mercy," he said. "When I found +myself dying as young as I was and as hopeful as I had been my soul +filled up with a bitter resentment against nature and God, but she drew +out the bitterness and instilled a sweetness and a prayer. And now to +take her from me would be to snatch away the prospect of that peaceful +life that lies beyond the grave. Sir, I heard you tell her that she was +crazy. If so, then may God bless all such insanity." + +He pressed the handkerchief to his mouth, racking, struggling; and when +the convulsive agony had passed he smiled, and there in the shadow by +the door the light that crossed his face was ghastly, like a dim smear +of phosphorus. And now the Major's shoulders were not stiffened with +resentment; they were drooping with a pity that he could not conceal, +but his face was hard set, the expression of the mercy of one man for +another, but also the determination to protect a daughter and the good +name of an honored household. + +"Mr. Pennington, I was never so sorry for any human being as I am for +you at this moment, but, sir, the real blessings of this life come +through justice and not through impulsive mercy. In thoughtless sympathy +a great wrong may lie, and out of a marriage with disease may arise a +generation of misery. We are largely responsible for the ailments of +those who are to follow us. The wise man looks to the future; the weak +man hugs the present. You say that my daughter is an angel of mercy. She +has ever been a sort of sister of charity. I confess that I have never +been able wholly to understand her. At times she has even puzzled her +mother, and a daughter is odd, indeed, when a mother cannot comprehend +her. I am striving to be gentle with you, but I must tell you that you +cannot marry her. I don't want to tell you to go, and yet it is better +that this interview should come to a close." + +He bowed to Pennington and turned toward the veranda that overlooked the +river, but a supplicating voice called him back. "I wish to say," said +the consumptive, "that from your point of view you are right. But that +does not alter my position. You speak of the misery that arises from a +marriage with disease. That was very well put, but let me say, sir, that +I believe that I am growing stronger. Sometimes I have thought that I +had consumption, but in my saner moments I know that I have not. I can +see an improvement from day to day. Several days ago I couldn't help +coughing, but now at times I can suppress it. I am growing stronger." + +"Sir," exclaimed the Major, "if you were as strong as a lion you should +not marry her. Good day." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Slowly and heavily the Major walked out upon the veranda. He stood upon +the steps leading down into the yard, and he saw Louise afar off +standing upon the river's yellow edge. She had thrown her hat upon the +sand, and she stood with her hands clasped upon her brown head. A wind +blew down the stream, and the water lapped at her feet. The Major looked +back into the library, at the door wherein Pennington had stood, and +sighed with relief upon finding that he was gone. He looked back toward +the river. The girl was walking along the shore, meditatively swinging +her hat. He stepped to the corner of the house, and, gazing down the +road, saw Pennington on a horse, now sitting straight, now bending low +over the horn of the saddle. The old gentleman had a habit of making a +sideward motion with his hand as if he would put all unpleasant thoughts +behind him, and now he made the motion not only once, but many times. +And it seemed that his thoughts would not obey him, for he became more +imperative in his pantomimic demand. + +At one corner of the large yard, where the smooth ground broke off into +a steep slope to the river, there stood a small office built of brick. +It was the Major's executive chamber, and thither he directed his steps. +Inside this place his laugh was never heard; at the door his smile +always faded. In this commercial sanctuary were enforced the exactions +that made the plantation thrive. Outside, in the yard, in the "big +house," elsewhere under the sky, a plea of distress might moisten his +eyes and soften his heart to his own financial disadvantage, but under +the moss-grown shingles of the office all was business, hard, +uncompromising. It was told in the neighborhood that once, in this +inquisition of affairs, he demanded the last cent possessed by a widowed +woman, but that, while she was on her way home, he overtook her, +graciously returned the money and magnanimously tore to pieces a +mortgage that he held against her small estate. + +Just as he entered the office there came across the yard a loud and +impatient voice. "Here, Bill, confound you, come and take this horse. +Don't you hear me, you idiot? You infernal niggers are getting to be so +no-account that the last one of you ought to be driven off the place. +Trot, confound you. Here, take this horse to the stable and feed him. +Where is the Major? In the office? The devil he is." + +Toward the office slowly strode old Gideon Batts, fanning himself with +his white slouch hat. He was short, fat, and bald; he was bowlegged +with a comical squat; his eyes stuck out like the eyes of a swamp frog; +his nose was enormous, shapeless, and red. To the Major's family he +traced the dimmest line of kinship. During twenty years he had operated +a small plantation that belonged to the Major, and he was always at +least six years behind with his rent. He had married the widow Martin, +and afterward swore that he had been disgracefully deceived by her, that +he had expected much but had found her moneyless; and after this he had +but small faith in woman. His wife died and he went into contented +mourning, and out of gratitude to his satisfied melancholy, swore that +he would pay his rent, but failed. Upon the Major he held a strong hold, +and this was a puzzle to the neighbors. Their characters stood at +fantastic and whimsical variance; one never in debt, the other never out +of debt; one clamped by honor, the other feeling not its restraining +pinch. But together they would ride abroad, laughing along the road. To +Mrs. Cranceford old Gid was a pest. With the shrewd digs of a woman, the +blood-letting side stabs of her sex, she had often shown her disapproval +of the strong favor in which the Major held him; she vowed that her +husband had gathered many an oath from Gid's swollen store of execration +(when, in truth, Gid had been an apt pupil under the Major), and she +had hoped that the Major's attachment to the church would of necessity +free him from the humiliating association with the old sinner, but it +did not, for they continued to ride abroad, laughing along the road. + +Like a skittish horse old Gid shied at the office door. Once he had +crossed that threshold and it had cost him a crop of cotton. + +"How are you, John?" was Gid's salutation as he edged off, still fanning +himself. + +"How are you, sir?" was the Major's stiff recognition of the fact that +Gid was on earth. + +"Getting hotter, I believe, John." + +"I presume it is, sir." The Major sat with his elbow resting on a desk, +and about him were stacked threatening bundles of papers; and old Gid +knew that in those commercial romances he himself was a familiar +character. + +"Are you busy, John?" + +"Yes, but you may come in." + +"No, I thank you. Don't believe I've got time." + +"Then take time. I want to talk to you. Come in." + +"No, not to-day, John. Fact is I'm not feeling very well. Head's all +stopped up with a cold, and these summer colds are awful, I tell you. It +was a summer cold that took my father off." + +"How's your cotton in that low strip along the bayou?" + +"Tolerable, John; tolerable." + +"Come in. I want to talk to you about it." + +"Don't believe I can stand the air in there, John. Head all stopped up. +Don't believe I'm going to live very long." + +"Nonsense. You are as strong as a buck." + +"You may think so, John, but I'm not. I thought father was strong, too, +but a summer cold got him. I am getting along in years, John, and I find +that I have to take care of myself. But if you really want to talk to me +about that piece of cotton, come out under the trees where it's cool." + +The Major shoved back his papers and arose, but hesitated; and Gid stood +looking on, fanning himself. The Major stepped out and Gid's face was +split asunder with a broad smile. + +"I gad. I've been up town and had a set-to with old Baucum and the rest +of them. Pulled up fifty winner at poker and jumped. Devilish glad to +see you; miss you every minute of the time I'm away. Let's go over there +and sit down on that bench." + +They walked toward a bench under a live-oak tree, and upon Gid's +shoulder the Major's hand affectionately rested. They halted to laugh, +and old Gid shoved the Major away from him, then seized him and drew him +back. They sat down, still laughing, but suddenly the Major became +serious. + +"Gid, I'm in trouble," he said. + +"Nonsense, my boy, there is no such thing as trouble. Throw it off. Look +at me. I've had enough of what the world calls trouble to kill a dozen +ordinary men, but just look at me--getting stronger every day. Throw it +off. What is it, anyway?" + +"Louise declares that she is going to marry Pennington!" + +"What!" old Gid exclaimed, turning with a bouncing flounce and looking +straight at the Major. "Marry Pennington! Why, she shan't, John. That's +all there is of it. We object and that settles it. Why, what the deuce +can she be thinking about?" + +"Thinking about him," the Major answered. + +"Yes, but she must quit it. Why, it's outrageous for as sensible a girl +as she is to think of marrying that fellow. You leave it to me; hear +what I said? Leave it to me." + +This suggested shift of responsibility did not remove the shadow of +sadness that had fallen across the Major's countenance. + +"You leave it to me and I'll give her a talk she'll not forget. I'll +make her understand that she's a queen, and a woman is pretty devilish +skittish about marrying anybody when you convince her that she's a +queen. What does your wife say about it?" + +"She hasn't said anything. She's out visiting and I haven't seen her +since Louise told me of her determination to marry him." + +"Don't say determination, John. Say foolish notion. But it's all right." + +"No, it's not all right." + +"What, have you failed to trust me? Is it possible that you have lost +faith in me? Don't do that, John, for if you do it will be a never +failing source of regret. You don't seem to remember what my powers of +persuasion have accomplished in the past. When I was in the legislature, +chairman of the Committee on County and County Lines, what did my +protest do? It kept them from cutting off a ten-foot strip of this +county and adding it to Jefferson. You must remember those things, John, +for in the factors of persuasion lie the shaping of human life. I've +been riding in the hot sun and I think that a mint julep would hit me +now just about where I live. Say, there, Bill, bring us some mint, sugar +and whisky. And cold water, mind you. Oh, everything will come out all +right. By the way, do you remember that Catholic priest that came here +with a letter of introduction to you?" + +"Yes, his name is Brennon." + +"Yes, that's it. But how did he happen to bring a letter to you?" + +"He came from Maryland with a letter given him by a relative of mine." + +"Yes, and he has gone to work, I tell you. Do you know what he's doing? +Reaching out quietly and gathering the negroes into his church. And +there are some pretty wise men behind him. They didn't send an Irishman +or a Dutchman or an Italian, but an American from an old family. He's +already got three negroes on my place, and Perdue tells me that he's +nipping one now and then over his way. There's a scheme in it, John." + +"There is a scheme in all human affairs, and consequently in all church +movements," the Major replied, and the impulse of a disquisition +straightened him into a posture more dignified, for he was fond of +talking and at times he strove to be logical and impressive; but at this +moment Bill arrived with mint from the spring; and with lighter talk two +juleps were made. + +"Ah," said old Gideon, sipping his scented drink, "virtue may become +wearisome, and we may gape during the most fervent prayer, but I gad, +John, there is always the freshness of youth in a mint julep. Pour just +a few more drops of liquor into mine, if you please--want it to rassle +me a trifle, you know. Recollect those come-all ye songs we used to +sing, going down the river? Remember the time I snatched the sword out +of my cane and lunged at a horse trader from Tennessee? Scoundrel +grabbed it and broke it off and it was all I could do to keep him from +establishing a close and intimate relationship with me. Great old days, +John; and I Gad, they'll never come again." + +"I remember it all, Gid, and it was along there that you fell in love +with a woman that lived at Mortimer's Bend." + +"Easy, now, John. A trifle more liquor, if you please. Thank you. Yes, I +used to call her the wild plum. Sweet thing, and I had no idea that she +was married until her lout of a husband came down to the landing with a +double-barrel gun. Ah, Lord, if she had been single and worth money I +could have made her very happy. Fate hasn't always been my friend, +John." + +"Possibly not, Gid, but you know that fate to be just should divide her +favors, and this time she leaned toward the woman." + +"Slow, John. I Gad, there's your wife." + +A carriage drew up at the yard gate and a woman stepped out. She did not +go into the house, but seeing the Major, came toward him. She was tall, +with large black eyes and very gray hair. In her step was suggested the +pride of an old Kentucky family, belles, judges and generals. She smiled +at the Major and bowed stiffly at old Gid. The two men arose. + +"Thank you, I don't care to sit down," she said. "Where is Louise?" + +"I saw her down by the river just now," the Major answered. + +"I wish to see her at once," said his wife. + +"Shall I go and call her, madam?" Gid asked. + +She gave him a look of surprise and answered: "No, I thank you." + +"No trouble, I assure you," Gid persisted. "I am pleased to say that age +has not affected my voice, except to mellow it with more of reverence +when I address the wife of a noble man and the mother of a charming +girl." + +She had dignity, but humor was never lost upon her, and she smiled. This +was encouraging and old Gid proceeded: "I was just telling the Major of +my splendid prospects for a bountiful crop this year, and I feel that +with this blessing of Providence I shall soon be able to meet all my +obligations. I saw our rector, Mr. Mills, this morning, and he spoke of +how thankful I ought to be--he had just passed my bayou field--and I +told him that I would not only assert my gratitude but would prove it +with a substantial donation to the church at the end of the season." + +In the glance which she gave him there was refined and gentle contempt; +and then she looked down upon the decanter of whisky. Old Gideon drew +down the corners of his mouth, as was his wont when he strove to excite +compassion. + +"Yes," he said with a note of pity forced upon his voice, "I am +exceedingly thankful for all the blessings that have come to me, but I +haven't been very well of late, rather feeble to-day, and the kind +Major, noticing it, insisted upon my taking a little liquor, the +medicine of our sturdy and gallant fathers, madam." + +The Major sprawled himself back with a roaring laugh, and hereupon Gid +added: "It takes the Major a long time to get over a joke. Told him one +just now and it tickled him mighty nigh to death. Well, I must be going +now, and, madam, if I should chance to see anything of your charming +daughter, I will tell her that you desire a conference with her. +William," he called, "my horse, if you please." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Mrs. Cranceford had met Pennington in the road, and on his horse, in the +shade of a cottonwood tree, he had leaned against the carriage window to +tell her of his interview with the Major. He had desperately appealed to +the sympathy which one with so gentle a nature must feel for a dying +man, and had implored her to intercede with her husband; but with +compassionate firmness she had told him that no persuasion could move +her husband from the only natural position he could take, and that she +herself was forced to oppose the marriage. + +The Major, with his hands behind him, was now walking up and down the +short stretch of shade. "I don't wonder that the absurdity of it does +not strike him," he said, "for he is a drowning sentimentalist, catching +at a fantastic straw." He paused in his walk to look at his wife as if +he expected to find on her face a commendation of this simile. She +nodded, knowing what to do, and the Major continued, resuming his walk: +"I say that I can't blame him so much, but Louise ought to have better +sense. I'll swear I don't know where she gets her stubbornness. Oh, but +there is no use worrying ourselves with a discussion of it. You may talk +to her, but I have had my say." + +Louise, meanwhile, was strolling along a shaded lane that led from the +ferry. Iron weeds grew in the corners of the fence, and in one hand she +carried a bunch of purple blooms; with the other hand she slowly swung +her hat, holding the strings. A flock of sheep came pattering down the +road. With her hat she struck at the leader, a stubborn dictator +demanding the whole of the highway. His flock scampered off in a fright, +leaving him doggedly eyeing the disputer of his progress. But now she +was frightened, with such fierceness did the old ram lower his head and +gaze at her, and she cried out, "Go on back, you good-for-nothing +thing." + +"He won't hurt you," a voice cried in the woods, just beyond the fence. +"Walk right up to him." + +An enormous young fellow came up to the fence and with climbing over +broke the top rail. "Don't you see he's scared?" + +"But he would have knocked me over if you hadn't come." + +"No, he wouldn't; he was just trying to make friends with you." + +"But I don't want such a friend." + +Together they slowly walked along. With tenderness in his eyes he looked +down upon her, and when he spoke, which he did from time to time, his +voice was deep and heavy but with a mellowness in it. She addressed him +as Mr. Taylor and asked him if he had been away. And he said that he +had, but that was not a sufficient reason for the formality of +Mister--his name was Jim. She looked up at him--and her eyes were so +blue that they looked black--and admitted that his name had been Jim but +that now it must be Mr. Taylor. She laughed at this but his face was +serious. + +"Why, I haven't called you Jim since----" + +"Since I asked you to marry me." + +"No, not since then. And now you know it wouldn't be right to call you +Jim." + +In his slowness of speech he floundered about, treading down the briars +that grew along the edge of the road, walking with heavy tread but +tenderly looking down upon her. "That ought not to make any difference," +he said. "I knew you before you--before you knew anything, and now it +doesn't sound right to hear you call me anything but Jim. It is true +that the last time I saw you--seems a long time, but it wasn't more than +a week ago--you said that you wouldn't marry me, and really the time +seems so long that I didn't know but you might have changed your mind." + +"No, not yet," she replied. + +"But you might." + +"No, I couldn't." + +"Is it as bad as that?" + +"It's worse; it would be impossible for me to change." + +"I don't suppose you know why?" + +"Yes, I do. I am going to be married." + +"What!" He stopped, expecting her to obey his own prompting and halt +also, but she walked on. With long strides he overtook her, passed her, +stood in front of her. She stepped aside and passed on. But again he +overtook her, but this time he did not seek to detain her. + +"I can't believe it," he said, stripping the leaves from the thorn +bushes and briars that came within touch of his swinging hand. "I don't +believe that you would marry a man unless you loved him and +who--who----" + +"Somebody," she said. + +"Please don't tantalize me in this way. Tell me all about it." + +"You know Mr. Pennington----" + +"Who, that poor fellow!" he cried. "You surely don't think of marrying +him. Louise, don't joke with me. Why, he can't live more than three +months." + +Now she halted and there was anger in her eyes as she looked at him, and +resentful rebuke was in her voice when she spoke. "And you, too, fix the +length of time he is to live. Why do you all agree to give him three +months? Is that all the time you are willing to allow him?" + +He stepped back from her and stood fumbling with his great hands. "I +didn't know that any one else had given him three months," he replied. +"I based my estimate merely on my recollection of how he looked the last +time I saw him. I am willing to allow him all the time he wants and far +more than Nature seems willing to grant." + +"No, you are not. You all want him to die." + +"Don't say that, Louise. You know that I ain't that mean. But I +acknowledge that I don't want you to marry him." + +"What need you care? If I refuse to marry you what difference does it +make to you whom I marry?" + +"It makes this difference--that I would rather see you the wife of a man +that can take care of you. Louise, they say that I'm slow about +everything, and I reckon I am, but when a slow man loves he loves for +all time." + +"I don't believe it; don't believe that any man loves for all time." + +"Louise, to hear you talk one might think that you have been grossly +deceived, but I know you haven't, and that is what forces me to say that +I don't understand you." + +"You don't have to understand me. Nobody has asked you to." + +She walked on and he strode beside her, stripping the leaves off the +shrubs, looking down at her, worshipping her; and she, frail and +whimsical, received with unconcern the giant's adoration. + +"I told the Major that I loved you--" + +"Told him before you did me, didn't you?" she broke in, glancing up at +him. + +"No, but on the same day. I knew he was my friend, and I didn't know +but--" + +"That he would order me to marry you?" + +"No, not that, but I thought he might reason with you." + +"That's just like a stupid man. He thinks that he can win a woman with +reason." + +He pondered a long time, seeming to feel that this bit of observation +merited well-considered reply, and at last he said: "No, I didn't think +that a woman could be won by something she didn't understand." + +"Oh, you didn't. That was brilliant of you. But let us not spat with +each other, Jim." + +"I couldn't spat with you, Louise; I think too much of you for that, and +I want to say right now that no matter if you do marry I'm going to keep +on loving you just the same. I have loved you so long now that I don't +know how to quit. People say that I am industrious, and they compliment +me for keeping up my place so well, and for not going to town and +loafing about of a Sunday and at night, but the truth is there ain't a +dog in this county that's lazier than I am. During all these years my +mind has been on you so strong that I have been driven to work." + +She had thrown down her iron weed blossoms and had put her hands to her +ears to shut out his words as if they were a reproach to her, but she +heard him and thus replied: "It appears that I have been of some service +at any rate." + +"Yes, but now you are going to undo it all." + +"I thought you said you were going to keep on loving me just the same." + +"What! Do you want me to?" There was eagerness in his voice, and with +hope tingling in his blood he remembered that a few moments before she +had called him Jim. "Do you want me to?" + +"I want you always to be my friend." + +Under these words he drooped and there was no eagerness in his voice +when he replied: "Friendship between a great big man and a little bit of +a woman is nonsense. They must love or be nothing to each other." + +They had now reached the road that led past the Major's house. She +turned toward home. "Wait a moment," he said, halting. She stopped and +looked back at him. "Did you hear what I said?" + +"What about?" + +"Hear what I said about a big man and a little woman?" + +"No, what did you say?" + +He fumbled with his hands and replied: "No matter what I said then. What +I say now is good-bye." + +"Good-bye." + +She tripped along as if she were glad to be rid of him, but after a time +she walked slower as if she were deeply musing. She heard the brisk +trotting of a horse, and, looking up, recognized Gideon Batts, jogging +toward her. He saw her, and, halting in the shade, he waited for her to +come up, and as she drew near he cried out, "Helloa, young rabbit." + +She wrinkled her Greek nose at him, but she liked his banter, and with +assumed offense she replied: "Frog." + +"None of that, my lady." + +"Well, then, what made you call me a young rabbit?" + +"Because your ears stick out." + +"I don't care if they do." + +"Neither does a young rabbit." + +"I call you a frog because your eyes stick out and because you are so +puffy." + +"Slow, now, my lady, queen of the sunk lands. Oh, but they are laying +for you at home and you are going to catch it. I'd hate to be in your +fix." + +"And I wouldn't be in yours." + +"Easy, now. You allude to my looks, eh? Why, I have broken more than one +heart." + +"Why, I didn't know you had been married but once." + +He winced. "Look here, you mustn't talk that way." + +"But you began it. You called me a young rabbit." + +"That's right, and now we will call it off. What a memory you've got. I +gad, once joke with a woman and her impudence--which she mistakes for +wit--leaps over all difference in ages. But they are laying for you at +home and you are going to catch it. I laughed at them; told them it was +nonsense to suppose that the smartest girl in the state was going to +marry--" + +"You've said enough. I don't need your championship." + +"But you've got it and can't help yourself. Why, so far as brains are +concerned, the average legislator can't hold a candle to you." + +"That's no compliment." + +"Slow. I was in the legislature." + +"Yes, one term, I hear." + +"Why did you hear one term?" + +"Because they didn't send you back, I suppose." + +"Easy. But I tell you that the Major and your mother are furious. Your +mother said--" + +"She said very little in your presence." + +"Careful. She said a great deal. But I infer from your insinuation that +she doesn't think very well of me." + +"You ought to know." + +"I do; I know that she is wrong in her estimate of me. And I also know +that I am right in my estimate of her. She is the soul of gentleness and +quiet dignity. But you like me, don't you?" + +"I am ashamed to say that I like you in spite of my judgment." + +"Easy. That's good, I must say. Ah, the influence I have upon people is +somewhat varied. Upon a certain type of woman, the dignified lady of a +passing generation, I exercise no particular influence, but I catch the +over-bright young women in spite of themselves. The reason you think so +much of me is because you are the brightest young woman I ever saw. And +this puts me at a loss to understand why you are determined to marry +that fellow Pennington. Wait a moment. I gad, if you go I'll ride along +with you. Answer me one question: Is your love for him so great that +you'll die if you don't marry him? Or is it that out of a perversity +that you can't understand you are determined to throw away a life that +could be made most useful? Louise, we have joked with each other ever +since you were a child. In my waddling way I have romped with you, and I +can scarcely realize that you are nearly twenty-four years old. Think of +it, well advanced toward the age of discretion, and yet you are about to +give yourself to a dying man. I don't know what to say." + +"It seems not," she replied. And after a moment's pause she added: "If I +am so well advanced toward the age of discretion I should be permitted +to marry without the advice of an entire neighborhood." + +She was now standing in the sun, looking up at him, her half-closed eyes +glinting like blue-tempered steel. + +"Is marriage wholly a matter of selfishness?" she asked. + +"Slow. If you are putting that to me as a direct question I am, as a man +who never shies at the truth, compelled to say that it is. But let me +ask you if it is simply a matter of accommodation? If it is, why not +send out a collection of handsome girls to marry an aggregation of +cripples?" + +Her eyes were wide open now and she was laughing. "No one could be +serious with you, Mr. Gid." + +"And no one could make you serious with yourself." + +"Frog." + +"Young rabbit." + +She put her hands to her ears. "I would rather be a young rabbit than a +frog." + +"Wait a moment," he called as she turned away. + +"Well." + +"When you go home I wish you'd tell your mother that I talked to you +seriously concerning the foolishness of your contemplated marriage. Will +you do that much for your old playmate?" + +She made a face at him and trippingly hastened away. He looked after +her, shook his head, gathered up his bridle reins, and jogged off toward +his home. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +At home Louise made known her arrival by singing along the hallway that +led to her room. She knew that not a very pleasant reception awaited +her, and she was resolved to meet it with the appearance of careless +gayety. She entered her room, drew back the curtains to admit the light, +deftly touched her hair at the mirror, and sat down in a rocking chair. +She took up a book, an American fad built upon a London failure, and was +aimlessly turning the leaves when she heard her mother's voice. + +"Are you in there, Louise?" + +"Yes, come." + +In the mother's appearance there was no suggestion of a stored rebuke; +her gray hair, faultlessly parted, was smoothed upon her brow, her +countenance bespoke calmness, and her sad eyes were full of tender love. + +"Oh, you look so cool and sweet," said the girl. "Have this chair." + +"No, thank you, I prefer to sit here." + +She sat upon a straight-back chair. In her "day" only grandmothers were +supposed to sit in rockers; younger women were thought to preserve +their health and their grace of form by sitting with rigid dignity upon +chairs which might now be exhibited as relics of household barbarism. + +"Did you have a pleasant visit?" the girl asked. + +"Yes, very; but it was so warm over there under the hills that I was +glad when the time came to leave." + +"Does that Englishman still live alone on the Jasper place?" + +"Yes, with his straight pipe and Scotch whisky. Perdue says that he +appears to be perfectly contented there all alone." + +"Have they found out anything about him?" + +"No, only what he has been pleased to tell, and that isn't much. It +seems that he is the younger son of a good family strayed off from home +to better his condition." + +"But why should he try to raise cotton when they say there is so little +money in it, and especially when it requires experience? And the climate +must be trying on him?" + +"No, he says that the climate agrees with him. He has lived in India. He +is reading American history and is much taken with the part the South +has borne, so I learned from Mr. Perdue. He did not expect to find so +little prejudice against foreigners. I could have told him that, in the +South, an Englishman is scarcely looked upon as a foreigner--that is, +among the best people." + +They talked about many things that concerned them but little, of a new +steamboat that had just entered upon the commerce of the lower river, of +a cotton gin that was burned the night before, of the Catholic priest +who had come to gather the negroes into his church; and surely they were +far from a mention of Pennington. But suddenly Louise moved with +uneasiness, for she had caught something that had not been said, that +had not been looked, and, springing to her feet, she almost threw +herself upon her mother, and with her arms about her, she cried: "Please +don't say a word; please don't. I can argue with father, but I can't +argue with you, for you take everything so to heart and suffer so much. +Please don't speak anybody's name--don't say that father has said +anything to you about anybody. You mustn't cry, either. Leave it all to +me, and if I was born to wring your dear heart--there, let us hush." + +She straightened up, putting the hair out of her eyes, and the silent +and stately woman sat there with the tears rolling down her face. +"Please don't, mother. You'll make me think I'm the meanest creature in +the world. And I don't know but that I am, but I can't help it. Just +call me unnatural, as you have done so many times, and let it all go. +There, just listen at father walking up and down the porch; and I know +he's mad at me." + +"No, my child, he is not angry; he is hurt." + +"Please don't say that. I don't want to hurt him. I would rather make +him mad than to hurt him. Oh, I don't know what ails me, I am so +restless and unhappy. I have tried every way to cure myself, but +can't--I have read and read until I haven't any sense, and now I don't +know what to do. But don't you tell me what not to do; don't say +anything, but be your own sweet self." + +She took up a brush from the dresser, touched her mother's hair, and +said: "Let me, please." She loosened the thick coil. "Beautiful," she +said. "Don't you know how I used to tease you to let me comb it, a long +time ago? But it wasn't as pretty then as it is now." + +Through her fingers the white hair streamed, glinting in the light now +sobered by the falling of dusk. + +The Major's step was heard at the door. "Come in, father. See, I am at +my old employment." And in their faces and in the hair streaming through +his daughter's fingers the old man read that all was well. He stood +smiling at them. Out in the yard the fox-hounds began to yelp, and a +galloping horse stopped with a loud, jolting "gluck" at the gate. Then +came authoritative commands, and then a jar as if some one had leaped +upon the porch. There was brisk walking, the opening and slamming of +doors, and then at Louise's door a voice demanded: "What are you all +doing here in the dark? Ain't supper ready? I'm as hungry as a she +bear." + +The Major's son Tom had arrived. And just at that moment, and before any +one replied to him, the supper bell began to ring. "Takes me to bring +things about, eh? You people might have waited here hungry for an hour. +What are you doing here, anyway? Lou brushing mam's hair and pap looking +on like a boy at a show." + +"Thomas," said his mother, "I wish you wouldn't be so rough. There, +daughter, that will do. Just coil it. That's it; thank you. Major, I do +wish you wouldn't laugh at the brusqueness of your son; you encourage +him." + +Tom took his mother by the shoulders and turned her face toward the +door. He was a clean-looking, blondish fellow, younger than his +sister--an athlete, a boxer, with far more restlessness of muscle than +absorption of mind. He had failed at Harvard, where his +great-grandfather had distinguished himself; he had, with the influence +of a Congressman, secured a West Point cadetship, and there had fallen +under the rapid fire of a battery of mathematics, and had come home +scouting at the humiliation which he had put upon his parents, and was +now ready to submit himself to any other test that might present +itself--was ready to borrow, to lend, or to fight. He picked negro tunes +on a banjo, and had been heard hoarsely to sing a love song under a +cypress tree. He had now just returned from the capital of the state, +where he had spent two days watching the flank movements of a military +drill. + +"You people seem to be mighty solemn," was Tom's observation as they sat +down to supper, glancing from one to another, and finally directing a +questioning look at his father. "What's the trouble? What's happened? Is +it possible that old Gideon has paid his rent?" + +Louise laughed, a wrinkle crept across Mrs. Cranceford's brow and the +Major sprawled back with a loud "haw." Gid's rent was a standing joke; +and nothing is more sacredly entitled to instant recognition than a joke +that for years has been established in a Southern household. + +"I notice that he never goes into the Major's office," Mrs. Cranceford +remarked; and Tom quickly replied: "And I don't blame him for that. I +went in there about a month ago and haven't had a dollar since." + +The Major did not laugh at this. The reputed exaction of his executive +chamber was a sore spot to him. "How you robbers, young and old, would +like to fleece me," he said. "And if I didn't turn to defensive stone +once in a while you'd pull out my eye teeth." + +"Don't see how anybody could get hold of your eye teeth, dad," Tom +replied. "You are always busy cutting them when I come round. Oh, by +the way," he added with sudden seriousness, "you remember that fellow +Mayo, the one that ran for County Clerk down here some time ago?" + +"The scoundrel who swore he was elected?" + +"That's the man. He disappeared, you know, after his trouble down here, +then he went on from one community to another, a Democrat one season and +a Republican the next, and now he has returned as a labor leader. I met +him yesterday in Little Rock, and I never have seen a more insolent +ruffian. He makes no secret of his plans, and he says that blood is +bound to flow. I asked him if he had any to spare, and he cocked his eye +at me and replied that he didn't know but he had." + +The Major was silent, abstractedly balancing his knife on the rim of his +plate. Mayo, an adventurer, a scoundrel with a brutish force that passed +for frankness, had at one time almost brought about an uprising among +the negroes of Cranceford County, and eager ears in the North, not the +ears of the old soldier, but of the politician, shutting out the +suggestions of justice, heard only the clamor of a political outrage; +and again arose the loud cry that the South had robbed the inoffensive +negro of his suffrage. But the story, once so full of alarm, was +beginning to be a feeble reminiscence; Northern men with business +interests in the South had begun to realize that the white man, though +often in the wrong, could sometimes be in the right. But now a +problem--graver than the over-thrashed straw of political rights, was +about to be presented. + +"I was in hopes that somebody had killed that fellow," said the Major, +and his wife looked up with gentle reproof. "Don't say that, dear. The +Lord will take him in His own good time." + +The old gentleman winked at Tom. "I don't know about that," he replied. +"I am afraid that the Lord in His management of the universe has +forgotten him." + +"John, please don't talk that way." When she was very serious she called +him John. "When you speak so lightly you make me afraid that your +relationship with the church is not very sacred to you." + +"It's serious at any rate, Margaret." + +"What do you mean by that, John?" + +"Why," Tom cried, "it means that you dragged him into the pow-wow." + +"Thomas"--and this time her reproof was not very gentle--"I won't stand +that from you. And daughter," she added, speaking to Louise, "it is not +a laughing matter. It all comes from so close an association with that +good-for-nothing old Gideon. I know it does, and you needn't say a word. +Nothing is sacred to him; he has no respect for God and cares nothing +for man except to the extent that he can use him." + +The Major strove to wink at Tom, but there was a hitch in his eye. "My +dear, you don't understand the old fellow," said he. "And therefore you +misjudge him. I know that he is weak, but I also know that he is strong, +and he is quite as necessary to me as I am to him. He rests me, and rest +is as essential as work. Sometimes the perfect gentleman is a bore; +sometimes the perfect lady is tiresome. In man there is a sort of +innocent evil, a liking for the half depraved and an occasional feeding +of this appetite heightens his respect for the truly virtuous." + +"I don't believe it, John." + +"Of course you don't. You are the truly virtuous, and--" he spread +himself back with a loud "haw," and sat there shaking under her cool +gaze. "There, Margaret," he said, wiping his eyes, "don't take it to +heart. I am doing the best I can and that is all the excuse I have to +offer. I'm getting old; do you realize that? The things that used to +amuse me are flat now and I can't afford to kill an amusement when one +does happen to come along. Don't you worry about Gid. Why, Margaret, he +has stood by me when other men turned their backs. The river was +dangerous during my day, and the pop of a pistol was as natural as the +bark of a dog. But old Gid was there by me." + +"Oh, I don't doubt that he has some good qualities," she admitted. "But +why doesn't he mend his ways?" + +"Oh, he hasn't time for that, Margaret. He's too busy with other +matters. There, now, we won't talk about him. But I promise you, my +dear, that he shall not unduly influence me. I don't exactly know what I +mean by that, either. I mean that you need have no fear of my permitting +him to weaken my respect for the church. Yes, I think that's about what +I mean. But the fact is he has never tried to do that. But what's the +use of this talk. I can sum up the whole situation by reminding you that +I am the master. There, now, don't sigh--don't look so worried." + +"But, John, it grieves me to hear you say that you need him." + +"Had to step back to pick that up, didn't you? Tom, after you're married +you'll find that your wife will look with coldness or contempt upon your +most intimate friend. It's the absurdest jealousy in woman's nature." + +"Thomas," said his mother, "you will find nothing of the sort; but I'll +tell you what you may expect from the right sort of a wife--contempt for +a coarse, low-bred fellow, should you insist upon holding him as your +closest companion." + +"Mother," Louise spoke up, "I think you are too severe. Mr. Batts is +hemmed in with faults, but he has many good points. And I can +understand why he is necessary to father. I am fond of him, and I am +almost ready to declare that at times he is almost necessary to me. No, +I won't make it as strong as that, but I must say that at times it is a +keen pleasure to jower with him." + +"To do what?" Mrs. Cranceford asked. "Jower with him? Where did you get +that word?" + +"It's one of his, picked up from among the negroes, I think, and it +means more than dispute or wrangle. We jower at times--quarrel a little +more than half in earnest." + +"Well," said the mother, "perhaps I ought not to say anything, but I +can't help it when I am so often hurt by that man's influence. Why, last +Sunday afternoon your father left the rector sitting here and went away +with that old sinner, and we heard them haw-hawing over in the woods. +But I won't say any more." + +"You never do, Margaret," the Major replied, winking at Louise. "But let +us drop him. So you saw Mayo, eh?" he added, turning to Tom. + +"Yes, sir, and I understand that he is coming back down here to prove to +the negroes that we are cheating them out of their earnings." + +The Major tossed a cigar to Tom, lighted one, and had begun to talk with +a rhetorical and sententious balancing of periods--which, to his mind, +full of the oratory of Prentiss, was the essence of impressiveness--when +a negro woman entered the room. And hereupon he changed the subject. + +When bedtime came the old gentleman stood on a rug in front of a large +fire-place, meditatively winding his watch. His wife sat on a +straight-back chair, glancing over the harmless advertisements in a +religious newspaper. In the parlor they had spent an agreeable evening, +with music and with never an allusion to an unpleasant subject, but +there was something finer than an allusion, and it had passed from +husband to wife and back again--a look at each other and a glance toward +Louise. But they had laughed at the girl's imitation of a cakewalk, and +yet in the minds of the father and the mother was the low echo of a +hollow cough. Affectionately she had kissed them good night, and had +started off down the hall in mimicry of a negro belle's walk, but they +had heard her door shut with a quick slam as if she were at last +impelled to be truthful with herself, to close herself in with her own +meditations. + +The Major hung his watch on a nail above the mantel-piece. From a +far-off nook of the sprawling old house came the pling-plang of the +boy's banjo. + +"Margaret?" + +"Yes, dear." + +"What did you say to her?" + +She began to fold the newspaper. "I didn't say anything. She wouldn't +permit me." + +"What do you think?" + +"That she will do as she pleases." + +"Consoling, by the--consoling, I must say. But I tell you she won't. I +will shame her out of it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The top of the cotton stalk glimmered with a purple bloom, but down +between the rows, among the dying leaves, the first bolls were opening. +The air was still hot, for at noontime the glare in the sandy road was +fierce, but the evening was cool, and from out in the gleaming dew came +a sweetly, lonesome chirrup, an alarm in the grass, the picket of the +insect army, crying the approach of frost. In the atmosphere was felt +the influence of a reviving activity; new cotton pens were built along +the borders of the fields, and the sounds of hammer and saw were heard +in the neighborhood of the gin-house. With the dusk of Saturday evening +"new" negroes came. In the city they had idled the summer away, +gambling, and had now come with nimble fingers to pick cotton during the +day and with tricky hands to throw dice at night. Gaunt, long-legged +birds flew from the North and awkwardly capered on a sand-bar. Afar off +there appeared to hover over the landscape a pall of thin, pale smoke; +but, like the end of the rainbow, it stole back from closer view, was +always afar off, lying low to the earth. The autumn rains had not yet +set in, and the water in the bayou was low and yellow. The summer +grapes were ripe, and in the cool, shaded coves at the base of the hills +the muscadine was growing purple. The mules, so over-worked during +plow-time, now stumbled down the lane, biting at one another. The +stiffening wind, fore-whistle of the season's change of tune, was shrill +amid the rushes at the edge of the swamp. + +It was a time to work, but also to muse and dream while working. In the +air was something that invited, almost demanded reverie. Upon the fields +there might lie many a mortgage, but who at such a time could worry over +the harsh exactions of debt? + +Nearly three weeks had passed, and not again in the Major's household +had Pennington's name been mentioned. But once, alone with his wife, the +Major was leading up to it when she held up her hands and besought him +to stop. "I can't bear to think of it," she said. "It stuns and +stupefies me. But it is of no use to say anything to her. She is of age +and she is head-strong." + +There was a dry rasp in the Major's throat. "Don't you think that to say +she is a crank would be hitting nearer the mark?" + +"No, I don't," his wife answered. "She is not a crank. She is a +remarkably bright woman." + +"Yes, she shows it. When a man does a fool thing he is weak, off, as +they say; but when a woman jumps out of the enclosure of common sense +we must say that she is bright." + +"I thought you were going to shame her out of it?" + +"I will, but she hasn't given me a chance. But we'll let it go. I +believe she has repented of her folly and is too much humiliated to make +a confession." + +His wife smiled sadly. "Don't you think so?" he asked. + +"No, I don't." + +"Well, I must say that you are very calm over the situation." + +"Didn't I tell you that I was stunned and stupefied by it?" + +"Yes, that's all right, and there's no use in worrying with it. Common +sense says that when you can't help a thing the best plan is to let it +go until a new phase is presented." + +And so they ceased to discuss the subject, but like a heavy weight it +lay upon them, and under it they may have sighed their worry, but they +spoke it not. From Tom this sentimental flurry had remained securely +hidden. Sometimes the grave tone of his father's words, overheard at +night, and his mother's distressful air, during the day, struck him with +a vague apprehension, but his mind was not keen enough to cut into the +cause of what he might have supposed to be a trouble; and so, he gave it +none of his time, so taken up with his banjo, his dogs, his sporting +newspaper, and his own sly love affair. In Louise's manner no change was +observed. + +One afternoon the Major, old Gid, and an Englishman named Anthony Low +were sitting on the porch overlooking the river when the Catholic priest +from Maryland, Father Brennon, stopped to get a drink of water. And he +was slowly making his way across the yard to the well when the Major +called him, urging him to come upon the porch and rest himself. "Wait," +the Major added, "and I'll have some water drawn for you." + +"I thank you," the priest replied, bowing, "but I prefer to draw it." +When he had drunk out of the bucket, he took a seat on the porch. He was +a man of middle age, grave, and sturdy. His eyes were thoughtful and his +smile was benevolent; his brow was high and broad, his nose large and +strong, and a determined conviction seemed to have molded the shape of +his mouth. His speech was slow, resonant, dignified; his accent of +common words was Southern, but in some of his phrases was a slight burr, +the subdued echo of a foreign tongue. + +The Englishman was a stocky young fellow, with light hair and reddish +side whiskers, a man of the world, doggedly careful in his use of +superlatives, but with a habit of saying, "most extraordinary." He had +rented an old plantation and lived alone in a dilapidated log house, +with his briar pipe, Scotch whisky, sole leather hatbox, and tin +bathtub. He had thought that it would be a sort of lark to grow a crop +of cotton, and had hired three sets of negroes, discharging them in turn +upon finding that they laughed at his ways and took advantage of his +inexperience. He had made his first appearance by calling one morning at +the Major's house and asking to be shown about the place. The Major +gladly consented to do this, and together they set out on horseback. + +The planter knew much of English hospitality, gathered from old +romances, and now was come the time to show a Britain what an American +gentleman could do. They rode down a lane, crossed a small field, and +halted under a tree; and there was a negro with whisky, mint and sugar. +They crossed a bayou, passed the "quarters," turned into the woods; and +there was another negro with whisky, mint and sugar. They rode across a +large field, and went through a gate, came to a spring; and there +waiting for them was a negro with liquor for a julep. They turned into +the "big" road, trotted along until they came to another spring, at +least three miles from the starting point; and there was a negro with +whisky, sugar and mint. But the Englishman's only comment was, "Ah, +most extraordinary, how that fellow can keep ahead of us, you know." + +Several months had elapsed, and the Major had called on Mr. Low, had +shouted at the yard-gate, had supposed that no one was at home, had +stalked into the wide open house and there had found the Englishman +sitting in his bathtub, reading Huxley. And to-day Mr. Low had come to +acknowledge the receipt of that visit. + +"You are on the verge of your busy season," said the priest. + +"Yes," the Major replied, "we begin picking to-morrow." + +"A beautiful view across the whitening fields," said the priest. + +"You ought to see my bayou field," old Gid spoke up. "It would make you +open your eyes--best in the state. Don't you think so, John?" + +"Well," the Major answered, "it is as good as any, I suppose." + +"I tell you it's the best," Gid insisted. "And as a man of varied +experience I ought to know what best is. Know all about cotton. I gad, I +can look at a boll and make it open." + +"Tell me," said the Englishman, "have you had any trouble with your +labor?" + +"With the negroes?" Gid asked. "Oh, no; they know what they've got to do +and they do it. But let a cog slip and you can have all the trouble you +want. I gad, you can't temporize with a negro. He's either your servant +or your boss." + +"All the trouble you want," said the Englishman. "By Jove, I don't want +any. Your servant or your master. Quite remarkable." + +"Don't know how remarkable it is, but it's a fact all the same," Gid +replied. "You've had trouble, I understand." + +"Yes, quite a bit. I've had to drive them off a time or two; the rascals +laughed at me. Quite full of fun they were, I assure you. I had thought +that they were a solemn race. They are everywhere else except in +America." + +"It is singular," the Major spoke up, "but it is nevertheless true that +the American negro is the only species of the African race that has a +sense of humor. There's no humor in the Spanish negro, nor in the +English negro, nor in fact in the American negro born north of the Ohio +river, but the Southern negro is as full of drollery as a black bear." + +"Ah, yes, a little too full of it, I fancy," Mr. Low replied. "I +threatened them with the law, but they laughed the more and were really +worse in every respect after that." + +"With the law!" old Gid snorted. "What the deuce do they care about the +law, and what sort of law do you reckon could keep a man from laughing? +You ought to threatened them with a snake bone or a rabbit's foot." + +"I beg pardon. A snake bone or a rabbit's foot, did you say? I really +don't understand." + +"Yes, threaten to conjure them. That might have fetched them." + +"Ah, I see. Quite extraordinary, I assure you." + +The priest began to talk, and with profound attention they turned to +him. He sat there with the mystery of the medieval ages about him, with +a great and silent authority behind him. + +"Have you gentlemen ever considered the religious condition of the +negro? Have you not made his religion a joke? Is it not a popular belief +that he will shout at his mourners' bench until midnight and steal a +chicken before the dawn? He has been taught that religion is purely an +emotion and not a matter of duty. He does not know that it means a life +of inward humanity and outward obedience. I have come to teach him this, +to save him; for in our church lies his only salvation, not alone of his +soul, but of his body and of his rights as well as of his soul. I speak +boldly, for I am an American, the descendant of American patriots. And I +tell you that the Methodist negro and the Baptist negro and the +Presbyterian negro are mere local issues; but the Catholic negro is +international--he belongs to the great nervous system of Rome; and +whenever Rome reaches out and draws him in, he is that moment removed as +a turbulent element from politics. Although slavery was long ago +abolished, there existed and to some small extent still exists a bond +between the white man and the black man of the South--a sort of family +tie; but this tie is straining and will soon be broken; a new generation +is coming, and the negro and the white man will be two antagonistic +forces, holding in common no sunny past--one remembering that his father +was a master, the other that his father was a slave. When that time +comes, and it is almost at hand, there will be a serious trouble growing +out of a second readjustment. The Anglo-Saxon race cannot live on a +perfect equality with any other race; it must rule; it demands complete +obedience. And the negro will resent this demand, more and more as the +old family ties are weakened. He has seen that his support at the North +was merely a political sentiment, and must know that it will not sustain +him in his efforts against capital, for capital, in the eye of capital, +is always just, and labor, while unfortunate, is always wrong. And when +the negro realizes this, remembering all his other wrongs, he will +become desperate. That is the situation. But is there no way to avert +this coming strife? I am here to say that there is. As communicants of +the Catholic Church the negroes will not listen to the labor agitator. +He will listen to the church, which will advise peace and submission to +proper authority." + +The priest had not gone far into his discourse before the Major began to +walk up and down the porch in front of him, nodding at him each time as +he passed. And when the clergyman ceased to speak, the Major, halting +and facing him, thus replied: "There may be some truth, sir, in what you +have said--there is some little truth in the wildest of speculation--but +I should like to ask you why is not a Protestant negro in a Protestant +country as safe as a Catholic negro in a Protestant country? You tell me +that your religion will protect the negro, and I ask you why it does not +protect the laborer in the North? You say that the Protestant negro in +the South is a local issue, and I ask you why is not a Catholic laborer +in the North an international issue? If the negro of the South, yielding +to your persuasion, is to become a part of the great nervous system of +Rome, why are not Catholic laborers everywhere a part of that system? I +think, sir, that you have shrewdly introduced a special plea. Your +church, with its business eyes always wide open, sees a chance to make +converts and is taking advantage of it. And I will not say that I will +oppose your cause. If the negro thinks that your church is better for +him than the Protestant churches have proved themselves to be, why I say +let him be taken in. I admit that we are not greatly concerned over the +negro's religion. We are satisfied with the fact that he has his +churches and that he has always been amply provided with preachers +agreeing with him in creed and color of skin. I will concede that his +professions of faith are regarded more or less in the light of a joke. +But I want to tell you one thing--that the negro's best friends live +here in the South. From us he knows exactly what to expect. He knows +that he cannot rule us--knows that he must work for a living. The lands +belong to the white man and the white man pays the taxes, and the white +man would be a fool to permit the negro to manage his affairs. Men who +dig in the coal mines of Pennsylvania don't manage the affairs of the +company that owns the mines. I cannot question the correctness of one of +your views--that the old tie is straining and may soon be broken. The +old negroes still regard us with a sort of veneration, but if the +younger ones show respect it is out of fear. Into this county a large +number of negroes have lately come from Mississippi and South Carolina. +They have been brought up on large plantations and have but a limited +acquaintance with the white man. Instinctively they hate him. And these +newcomers will listen to the voice of the agitator and by their example +will lead their brethren into trouble. You are right when you say that +the Anglo-Saxon race must rule. It will rule a community as it must +eventually rule the civilized world. But I don't see how your church is +to be the temporal as well as the spiritual salvation of the negro." + +The Major sat down; the priest smiled gravely, showing the shape into +which conviction and determination had molded his mouth. "My church is +not at all times able to prevent labor troubles in the North," said he, +"but it has often prevented the shedding of blood." + +"Ah," the Major broke in, "that may be true; and so has the influence of +the other churches. But what I want to know is this: How can you protect +a negro here more than you protect an Italian in the North?" + +"My dear sir, the Italian in the North is protected." + +"I grant you, but by the law rather than by the church." + +"But is not the church behind the law?" There was a shrewd twinkle in +the priest's eyes, and he was about to proceed with his talk when old +Gid snorted: "I gad, I hear that the public schools of the North are in +the hands of the Catholics, and if that's the case I reckon they've got +a pretty good hold on the court house. I understand that they daresn't +open a Bible in the public schools of Chicago; and they also tell me +that the children there have to learn Dutch. Zounds, ain't that enough +to make old Andy Jackson rattle his bones in his grave? I wish I had my +way for a few weeks. I'd show the world that this is America. I'd catch +low-browed wretches carrying all sorts of spotted and grid-ironed flags +through the streets. Dutch! Now, I'd just like to hear a child of mine +gabbling Dutch." + +The priest addressed himself to the Major: "You ask how we are to +protect the negro in the South. I will tell you--by teaching him that +except in the Catholic Church he cannot hope to find perfect equality. +Our communion knows no color--save red, and that is the blood of Christ. +Our religion is the only true democracy, but a democracy which teaches +that a man must respect himself before he should expect others to +respect him. But, my dear Major, I am not here to convince you, but to +convince the negro. He has been buffeted about by political parties, and +now it remains for the church to save him. One of these days an act +rather than a word may convince you." + +Tom had come out upon the porch. For a time he stood, listening, then +quickly stepping down into the yard, he gazed toward the dairy house, +into which, accompanied by a negro woman, had gone a slim girl, wearing +a gingham sun-bonnet. The girl came out, carrying a jug, and hastened +toward the yard gate. Tom heard the gate-latch click and then stepped +quickly to the corner of the house; and when out of sight he almost ran +to overtake the girl. She had reached the road, and she pretended to +walk faster when she heard his footsteps. She did not raise her eyes as +he came up beside her. + +"Let me carry the jug, Sallie." + +"No, I can carry it." + +"Give it to me." + +He took the jug and she looked up at him with a smile. + +"How's your uncle, Sallie?" + +"He ain't any better." + +Her uncle was Wash Sanders. Twenty years had passed since he had first +issued a bulletin that he was dying. He had liver trouble and a strong +combination of other ailments, but he kept on living. At first the +neighbors had confidence in him, and believed that he was about to pass +away, but as the weeks were stretched into years, as men who had been +strong and hearty were one by one borne to the grave, they began to lose +faith in Wash Sanders. All day long he would sit on his shaky verandah, +built high off the ground, and in answer to questions concerning his +health would answer: "Can't keep up much longer; didn't sleep a wink +last night. Don't eat enough to keep a chicken alive." His cows appeared +always to be dry, and every day he would send his niece, Sallie Pruitt, +for a jug of buttermilk. He had but one industry, the tending and +scraping of a long nail on the little finger of his left hand. He had a +wife, but no children. His niece had recently come from the pine woods +of Georgia. Her hair looked like hackled flax and her eyes were large +and gray. + +"I didn't think you could see me," said the girl, taking off her bonnet +and swinging it as she walked, keeping a sort of time with it. + +"Why, you couldn't possibly come and get away without my seeing you." + +"Yes, I could if it was night." + +"Not much. I could see you in the dark, you are so bright." + +"I'm not anything of the sort. Give me the jug and let me go on by +myself if you are goin' to make fun of me." + +She reached for the jug and he caught her hand, and walking along, held +it. + +"I wouldn't want to hold anybody's hand that I'd made fun of," she said, +striving, though gently, to pull it away. + +"I didn't make fun of you. I said you were bright and you are. To me you +are the brightest thing in the world. Whenever I dream of you I awake +with my eyes dazzled." + +"Oh, you don't, no such of a thing." + +They saw a wagon coming, and he dropped her hand. He stepped to the +right, she to the left, and the wagon passed between them. She looked +at him in alarm. "That's bad luck," she said. + +"What is?" + +"To let anything pass between us." + +"Oh, it doesn't make any difference." + +"Yes, it does," she insisted. "No, you mustn't take my hand +again--you've let something pass between us." + +He awkwardly grabbed after her hand. She held it behind her, and about +her waist he pressed his arm. "Oh, don't do that. Somebody might see +us." + +"I don't care if the whole world sees us." + +"You say that now, but after awhile you'll care." + +"Never as long as I live. You know I love you." + +"No, I don't." + +"Yes, you do." + +"You might say you do, but you don't. But even if you do love me now you +won't always." + +"Yes, as long as I live." + +She looked up at him, and her eyes were full of beauty and tenderness. +"Your mother----" + +"None of that," he broke in. "I am my own master. To me you are the most +beautiful creature in the world, and----" + +"Somebody's comin'," she said. + +A horseman came round a bend in the road, and he stepped off from her, +but they did not permit the horseman to pass between them. He did not +put his arm about her again, for now they were within sight of her +uncle's desolate house. They saw Wash Sanders sitting on the verandah. +Tom carried the jug as far as the yard gate. + +"Won't you come in?" Sanders called. + +"I ought to be getting back, I guess." + +"Might come in and rest awhile." + +Tom hesitated a moment and then passed through the gate. The girl had +run into the house. + +"How are you getting along?" the young man asked as he began slowly to +tramp up the steps. + +"Porely, mighty porely. Thought I was gone last night--didn't sleep a +wink. And I don't eat enough to keep a chicken alive." + +"Wouldn't you like a mess of young squirrels?" Tom asked, as he sat down +in a hickory rocking chair. Of late he had become interested in Wash +Sanders, and had resented the neighbors' loss of confidence in him. + +"Well, you might bring 'em if it ain't too much trouble, but I don't +believe I could eat 'em. Don't eat enough to keep a chicken alive." + +He lifted his pale hand, and with his long finger nail scratched his +chin. + +"What's the doctor's opinion?" Tom asked, not knowing what else to say +and feeling that at that moment some expression was justly demanded of +him. + +"The doctors don't say anything now; they've given me up. From the first +they saw that I was a dead man. Last doctor that gave me medicine was a +fellow from over here at Gum Springs, and I wish I may die dead if he +didn't come in one of finishin' me right there on the spot." + +There came a tap at a window that opened out upon the verandah, and the +young fellow, looking around, saw the girl sitting in the "best room." +She tried to put on the appearance of having accidentally attracted his +attention. He moved his chair closer to the window. + +"How did you know I was in here?" she asked, looping back the white +curtain. + +"I can always tell where you are without looking." + +"Are you goin' to make fun of me again?" + +"If I could even eat enough to keep a chicken alive I think I'd feel +better," said Wash Sanders, looking far off down the road. + +"I never did make fun of you," the young fellow declared in a whisper, +leaning close to the window. "And I wish you wouldn't keep on saying +that I do." + +"I won't say it any more if you don't want me to." + +"But I can't eat and can't sleep, and that settles it," said Wash +Sanders. + +"Of course I don't want you to say it. It makes me think that you are +looking for an excuse not to like me." + +"Would you care very much if I didn't like you?" + +"If I had taken another slug of that Gum Springs doctor's stuff I +couldn't have lived ten minutes longer," said Wash Sanders. + +And thus they talked until the sun was sinking into the tops of the +trees, far down below the bend in the river. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +At the Major's house the argument was still warm and vigorous. But the +evening was come, and the bell-cow, home from her browsing, was ringing +for admittance at the barn-yard gate. The priest arose to go. At that +moment there was a heavy step at the end of the porch, the slow and +ponderous tread of Jim Taylor. He strode in the shadow and in the +gathering dusk recognition of him would not have been easy, but by his +bulk and height they knew him. But he appeared to have lost a part of +his great strength, and he drooped as he walked. + +"Where is the Major?" he asked, and his voice was hoarse. + +"Here, my boy. Why, what's the trouble?" + +"Let me see you a moment," he said, halting. + +The Major arose, and the giant, with one stride forward, caught him by +the arm and led him away amid the black shadows under the trees. Mrs. +Cranceford came out upon the porch and stood looking with cool +disapproval upon the priest. At a window she had sat and heard him +enunciate his views. Out in the yard Jim Taylor said something in a +broken voice, and the Major, madly bellowing, came bounding toward the +house. + +"Margaret," he cried, "Louise is married!" + +The woman started, uttered not a sound, but hastening to meet him, took +him by the hand. Jim Taylor came ponderously walking from amid the black +shadows. The Englishman and old Gid stole away. The priest stood calmly +looking upon the old man and his wife. + +"John, come and sit down," she said. "Raving won't do any good. We must +be seemly, whatever we are." She felt the eye of the priest. "Who told +you, Mr. Taylor?" + +"The justice of the peace. They were married about an hour ago, less +than half a mile from here." + +She led the Major to a chair, and he sat down heavily. "She shall never +darken my door again," he declared, striving to stiffen his shoulders, +but they drooped under his effort. + +"Don't say that, dear; don't say that. It is so cold and cruel." + +"But I do say it--ungrateful little wretch. It rises up within me and I +can't keep from saying it." + +The priest stepped forward and raised his hand. "May the blessings of +our Heavenly Father rest upon this household," he said. The woman looked +a defiance at him. He bowed and was gone. Jim Taylor stood with his +head hung low. Slowly he began to speak. "Major, you and your wife are +humiliated, but I am heart-broken. You are afflicted with a sorrow, but +I am struck down with grief. But I beg of you not to say that she shan't +come home again. Her marriage doesn't alter the fact that she is your +daughter. Her relationship toward you may not be so much changed, but to +me she is lost. I beg you not to say she shan't come home again." + +Mrs. Cranceford tenderly placed her hand on the giant's arm. He shook +under her touch. + +"I will say it and I mean it. She has put her feet on our love and has +thrown herself away, and I don't want to see her again. I do think she +is the completest fool I ever saw in my life. Yes, and we loved her so. +And Tom--it will break his heart." + +In the dusk the wife's white hand was gleaming--putting back the gray +hair from her husband's eyes. "And we still love her so, dear," she +said. + +"What!" he cried, and now his shoulders stiffened. "What! do you uphold +her?" + +"Oh, no, but I am sorry for her, and I am not going to turn against her +simply because she has made a mistake. She has acted unwisely, but she +has not disgraced herself." + +"Yes, she has disgraced herself and the rest of us along with her. She +has married the dying son of a convict. I didn't want to tell you +this--I told her----" + +This was like a slap in the face, and for a moment she was bereft of the +cool dignity that had been so pronounced a characteristic of her quiet +life. + +"If you didn't tell me before why do you tell me now?" was her reply. +She stood back from him, regathering her scattered reserve, striving to +be calm. "But it can't be helped now, John." Her gentle dignity +reasserted itself. "Let time and the something that brightens hopes and +softens fears gradually soothe our affliction." + +She had taken up the Major's manner of speech. "Mr. Taylor, I have never +intimated such a thing to you before," she added, "but it was my hope +that she might become your wife. There, my dear man, don't let it tear +you so." + +The giant was shaken, appearing to be gnarled and twisted by her words, +like a tree in a fierce wind. "I talked to her about you," she +continued, "and it was my hope--but now let us be kind to her memory, if +indeed we are to regard her simply as a memory." + +"Margaret," said the Major, getting up and throwing back his leonine +head, "you are enough to inspire me with strength--you always have. But +while you may teach me to bear a trouble, you can't influence me to +turn counter to the demands of a just resentment. She shan't put her +foot in this house again. Jim, you can find a more suitable woman, sir. +Did you hear what became of them after that scoundrel married them? Who +performed the ceremony? Morris? He must never put his foot in my yard +again. I'll set the dogs on him. What became of them, Jim?" + +"I didn't hear, but I think that they must have driven to town in a +buggy." + +"Well, it really makes no difference what became of them. Are you going, +Jim?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Won't you stay with us to-night?" + +"No, I thank you. It's better for me to be alone." He hesitated. "If you +want me to I'll find out to-night where they've gone." + +"Oh, no, do nothing of the sort, for I assure you that it makes no +difference. Let them go to the devil." + +"John, don't say that, please," his wife pleaded. + +"But I have said it. Well, if you are determined to go, good-night." + +"Good-night." Jim strode off into the darkness, but halted and turned +about. "Major, if I can forgive her you ought to," he said. "You've got +common sense to help you, but common sense was never known to help a man +that's in my fix." + +They heard the gate open, heard the latch click behind him as he passed +out into the road. Toward his lonely home he trod his heavy way, in the +sand, in the rank weeds, picking not his course, stumbling, falling once +to his knees. The air was full of the pungent scent of the walnut, +turning yellow, and in it was a memory of Louise. Often had he seen her +with her apron full of nuts that had fallen from the trees under which +he now was passing. He halted and looked about him. The moon was rising +and he saw some one sitting on a fence close by the road side. "Is that +you, Jim?" a voice called. + +"Yes. Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Batts?" + +"Yep, just about. Hopped up here to smell the walnuts. Takes me away +back. They took it pretty hard, didn't they?" + +"Yes, particularly the Major. His wife has more control over herself." + +"Or may be less affection," Gid replied. "They say she's strong, but I +call her cold. Hold on and I'll walk with you." He got down off the +fence and walked beside the giant. "She's a mighty strange woman to me," +the old man said when they had walked for a time in silence. "But +there's no question of the fact that she's strong, that is, as some +people understand strength. To me, I gad, there is more force in +affection than in restraint. She loves her children--no doubt about +that--and of course she thinks the world of the Major, but somehow she +misjudges people. She doesn't understand me at all. But I reckon the +majority of men are too deep for a woman. I didn't want to see them in +the throes of their trouble, and I says to the Englishman, 'it's time to +git,' and we got. He wanted me to go over to his house and get some +Scotch whisky. I told him that the last rain must have left some water +in a hollow stump near my house, and that I preferred it to his +out-landish drink. And hanged if he didn't think I was in earnest. Yes, +sir, I knew that girl would marry him; and let me tell you, if I was a +youngster I would rather have her love than the love of any woman I ever +saw. There's something about her I never saw in any other woman--I gad, +she's got character; understand me? She ain't beautiful, hardly +handsome, but there's something about her, hanged if I know what it is. +But it's something; and I've always found that the strongest charm about +a woman is a something that you can't exactly catch--something that is +constantly on the dodge. And you bet I've had lots of experience. The +Major could tell you many a story on me. Yes, sir. Say, Jim, I know how +you feel over this affair, and I want you to understand that I'm your +friend, first, last and all the time. I've been trying to talk up to the +right place, but now I don't exactly know what to say." + +"Don't say anything, Uncle Gideon." + +"I reckon that would be about the wisest plan. Just wanted to let you +know where to find me. Strange things happen even in this quiet +community, don't they? But I'm woefully sorry that this special thing +has happened. I gad, the Major snorted so loud that my horse broke loose +from the post, and that's the reason I'm stepping around here like a +blind dog in a meat house. Begin pickin' to-morrow, I reckon?" + +"I don't know. I had made all my arrangements, but now after what's +happened I don't care whether there's a boll picked or not. I'm let +down." + +"Don't feel that way, old fellow. You'll be all right in a day or two." + +"Mr. Batts, if I didn't know that you were trying to soothe me I would +take that remark as an insult. If I thought I wasn't any more steadfast +than to be all right in a day or two--if I really believed my character +that light, I swear I'd go this minute and drown myself." + +"Why, my dear boy, you know I didn't mean to infer that your heart had +no more memory than that. What I meant was that your sense of +resignation would demand a hearing, so to speak. Let me tell you +something. I understand that girl better than her father or mother +does--I have made her a special study, and I want to tell you that when +I take the trouble to throw my mind on a woman a mystery has to be +cleared right then and there. And this is what I want to say: She has +married that fellow out of pity. I don't believe she loves him. Always +was ruled by pity. Recollect hearing the Major tell of a sudden streak +of misfortune that overtook his family when he was a child. His father +had to sell several of his slaves, and his old black mammy stood on the +block with him in her arms while they were auctioning her off. Well, +sir, Louise cried about that fit to kill herself. We told her how long +ago it had happened, and impressed on her the fact that the old woman +was soon bought back, but she kept on crying over the cruelty of the +thing. Yes, sir. Well, I turn off here. Good night." + +In the dark the Major walked about the yard mournfully calling Tom. A +negro woman said that she had seen him going down the road, and the old +gentleman returned to the porch and sat down. In the sitting room a lamp +was burning, and a patch of light fell about his chair. He wanted to +tell the young man of the trouble that had fallen upon the household, +and yet he dreaded to hear his footstep. Tom was so proud of his sister, +had always looked up to her, had regarded her whims as an intellectual +diversion; and now what a disappointment. How sadly would his heart be +wrung. From a distant room came the pling-plang of a banjo. + +"There's Tom, Margaret. Will you please tell him to come here? I don't +want to see him in the light." + +Mrs. Cranceford hastened to obey, and the Major sat listening. He pushed +his chair back out of the patch of light. The banjo hushed its twanging, +and then he heard Tom coming. The young man stepped out upon the porch. +His mother halted in the doorway. + +"Tom," said the Major, "I have a desperate piece of news, and I wish I +could break it to you gently, but there is no way to lead up to it. Your +sister has married Carl Pennington." + +"Yes, so Jim Taylor told me. Met him in the road a while ago. I didn't +know that there was anything of the sort on hand. Must have kept it +mighty quiet. I suppose----" + +"What, you suppose! What the deuce can you suppose! Stand there +supposing when I tell you that she has married a dying man." The old +gentleman flounced in his chair. "She has thrown herself away and I tell +you of it and you want to suppose. What's the matter with you? Have you +lost all your pride and your sense? She has married a dying man, I tell +you." + +The young fellow began awkwardly to twist himself about. He looked at +his mother, standing in the door with the light pouring about her, but +her eyes were turned from him, gazing far away into the deepening +night. "I know they might think he's dying," he said, "but they might be +mistaken. Sometimes they believe a man's dying and he keeps on living. +Wash Sanders----" + +"Go back to your banjo, you idiot!" the Major shouted. "I'll swear this +beats any family on the face of the earth." He got up, knocking over his +chair. "Go on. Don't stand there trying to splutter an explanation of +your lack of sense! No wonder you have always failed to pass an +examination. Not a word, Margaret. I know what you are going to say: +Beats any family on the face of the earth." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +On the morrow there was a song and a chant in the cotton fields. Aged +fingers and youthful hands were eager with grabbing the cool, +dew-dampened fleece of the fields. The women wore bandana handkerchiefs, +and picturesquely down the rows their red heads were bobbing. Whence +came their tunes, so quaintly weird, so boisterous and yet so full of +melancholy? The composer has sought to catch them, has touched them with +his refining art and has spoiled them. The playwright has striven to +transfer from the field to the stage a cotton-picking scene and has made +a travesty of it. To transfer the passions of man and to music-riddle +them is an art with stiff-jointed rules, but the charm of a +cotton-picking scene is an essence, and is breathed but cannot be +caught. Here seems to lie a sentiment that no other labor invites, and +though old with a thousand endearments, it is ever an opera rehearsed +for the first time. But this is the view that may be taken only by the +sentimentalist, the poet loitering along the lane. To him it is a +picture painted to delight the eye, to soothe the nerves, to inspire a +pastoral ode. There is, however, another side. At the edge of the field +where the cotton is weighed, stands the planter watching the scales. His +commercial instincts might have been put to dreamy sleep by the +appearance of the purple bloom, but it is keenly aroused by the opening +boll. He is influenced by no song, by no color fantastically bobbing +between the rows. He is alert, determined not to be cheated. Too much +music might cover a rascally trick, might put a clod in the cotton to be +weighed. Sentiment is well enough, and he can get it by turning to +Walter Scott. + +None of the planters was shrewder than the Major. In his community he +was the business as well as the social model. He was known to be brave +and was therefore expected to be generous. His good humor was regarded +as an echo of his prosperity, and a lucky negro, winning at dice, would +strive to imitate his manner. At planting, at plowing and at gathering, +no detail was too small or too illusive to escape his eye. His interests +were under a microscopic view and all plans that were drawn in the +little brick office at the corner of the yard, were rigorously carried +out in the fields. In the one place he was all business; in the other +there was in him an admixture of good humor and executive thoroughness. +He knew how many pounds of cotton a certain man or woman was likely to +pick within the working hours of a day, and he marked the clean and the +trashy pickers; and the play of his two-colored temperament was seen in +his jovial banter of the one and his harsh reprimand of the other. But +to-day a hired man stood at the scales to see the cotton weighed. The +Major walked abroad throughout the fields. As he drew near, the negroes +hushed their songs and their swaggering talk. They bowed respectfully to +him and to one another whispered his affliction. At noon, when he +returned home, the housekeeper told him that his wife was away. He sat +down in the library to wait for her. Looking out he saw Sallie Pruitt +carrying a jug across the yard. A few moments later he asked for Tom and +was told that he had just left the house. He tried to read, but nothing +interested him. There was nothing but dullness in the newspaper and even +Ivanhoe had lost his charm. It was nearly three o'clock when Mrs. +Cranceford returned. He did not ask whither she had gone; he waited to +be told. She sat down, taking off her gloves. + +"Did you see Mr. Perdue?" she asked. + +"No, I have seen no one. Don't care much to see any one." + +"I didn't know but you might have met him. He was here this morning. +Told me about Louise." + +"What does he know about her?" + +"He told me where she had gone to live--in that old log house at the +far end of the Anthony place." + +"Well, go on, I'm listening." + +"I didn't know that you cared to hear." + +"Then why did you begin to tell me?" + +She did not answer this question. She waited for him to say more. "Of +course I'd like to know what has become of her." + +"I went over to see her," said Mrs. Cranceford. + +"The deuce you did." + +"John, don't talk that way." + +"I won't. You went to see her." + +"Yes, and in that miserable house, all open, she is nursing her dying +husband." + +The Major got up and began to walk about the room. "Don't, Margaret, I'd +rather not hear about it." + +"But you must hear. No place could be more desolate. The wind was +moaning in the old plum thicket. The gate was down and hogs were rooting +in the yard. Louise did not hear me as I drove up, the wind was moaning +so distressfully among the dead plum bushes--she did not know that I was +on the place until I entered the room where she sat at the bedside of +her husband. She jumped up with a cry and----" + +"Margaret, please don't." + +"I must tell you, John. I will tell you. She jumped up with a cry and +ran to me, and started to take off my cloak, but remembering that there +was no fire in the damp room, she let it stay on. She tried to speak, +but couldn't. Her husband held out his waxen hand, and when I took it I +shuddered with the cold chill it sent through me." + +"Margaret, I am going out," said the Major, turning toward the door. + +"If you do, John, I will go with you and tell you as we walk along. +Please sit down." + +He sat down with an air of helplessness. He fumbled with his fingers, +which seemed to have grown thicker; he moved his foot as if it were a +heavy weight. His wife continued: "In the room there was scarcely any +furniture, nothing to soften the appearance of bleakness. I asked why no +fire had been made, and Louise said that she had engaged a negro to cut +some wood, but that he had gone away. She had paid him in advance. She +would herself have kindled a fire, but there was no axe on the place, +and she was afraid to leave her husband long enough to go to the woods +to gather sticks. I went out and found the negro dozing in the sun. He +was impudent when I spoke to him, but when I told him my name and +threatened him with you, he scuffled to his feet and sauntered off, and +I thought that we should see no more of him, but soon we heard the lazy +strokes of his axe. And shortly afterward we had a fire. Louise was in +one of her silent moods, but Pennington talked as much as his cough +would permit him. He said that it was all his fault. 'I told her,' said +he, 'that unless she married me I would die blaspheming the name of God, +and that if she would save me from hell she must be my wife. I know that +it was selfish and mean, but I couldn't help it. And so she has married +me to save my soul.' He grew excited and I tried to calm him. I told him +that you were angry at first, but that now you were in a better humor +toward him." + +"Margaret----" + +"This appeared to help him, but I saw that Louise did not believe me. +However, I commanded her to come home and bring her husband with her. +But she shook her head and declared that she would never again enter +your house until she could in some way discharge the debt of gratitude +with which you reproached her, which she says you flaunted in her face +at a time when she was greatly distressed." + +"What! I don't exactly understand." + +"Yes, you do, dear. You reminded her that you had saved her life, and +told her that you based your plea for obedience upon your own +gallantry." + +"Oh, that was a piece of mere nonsense, a theatrical trick. Of course I +don't deserve any credit for having saved the life of my own child." + +"It may have been a theatrical trick with you, but it wasn't with her. +She keenly feels your reproach." + +"Confound it, you are both making a monster of me." + +"No, dear, that is not our design." + +"Our design! Have you too, set yourself against me? Let me go to old +Gideon. He's the only friend I've got." + +"John, you mustn't say that. And why, at this time, should you refer to +that old sinner? But let me go on. While I was there the doctor came, +and shortly afterward we heard a heavy tread on the flapping boards of +the passageway that divides the two sections of the old house." + +"Jim Taylor," said the Major. + +"Yes, Jim Taylor. Louise jumped up in a flutter. He didn't take any +notice of her excitement. 'I heard that you were living here,' he said, +'and knowing what sort of an old place it is, I've come to see if I can +be of any use to you.' Here he looked about at the cracks in the walls +and the holes in the roof. 'And you'll pardon me,' he went on, 'but I +took the liberty to bring a carpenter along to patch up things a little. +That's him out there at work on the gate.' Louise began to cry. He +pretended not to notice her. 'It won't take long to make this a very +comfortable place,' he went on, 'and I hope you won't feel offended, but +I have brought some young chickens and a squirrel or two--in a basket +out there in the kitchen. I always was a sort of a neighborly fellow you +know.' 'You are the best man in the world,' Louise broke out. 'No, not +in the world, but I reckon I can stand flat-footed and lift with the +most of them,' he replied, assuming that he thought she referred to his +strength. 'Yes,' he continued, 'and the boys will be here pretty soon +with the wagon to haul you some wood. And I hope you'll pardon me again, +but nothing would do old Aunt Nan but she must come over to cook for you +and help you take care of Mr. Pennington until he gets about again. +She's the best cook in the whole country. You know the governor of the +state once said that she could beat anybody frying a chicken, and----'" + +"Confound his impudence!" exclaimed the Major, grinding the floor as he +wheeled about, "he's performing the offices that belong to me. And I +won't stand it." + +"The offices that did belong to you, dear, but you have washed your +hands of them." + +"Have I? Well, we'll see about that. I'll send over there and have +everything put to rights. No, I'll send the carriage and have them +brought home. I'll be--I say I won't be made a scape-goat of in this +way. Why, confound----" + +"John." + +"Yes, I understand, but I won't put up with it any longer. I'll send +Tom over there--I'll send the law over there and bring them home under +arrest." + +She shook her head. "No, it will be of no use to send for them. Louise +will not come, and you know she won't. Besides, we can make her just as +comfortable there as here. It will not be for long, so let her have her +own way." + +"By the blood, she has had it!" + +"John, have you forgotten that you are a member of the church?" + +"That's all right. But do you mean by member of the church that I am to +draw in my head like a high-land terrapin every time anything is said to +me? Am I to be brow-beaten by everybody just because I belong to the +church? Oh, it's a happy day for a woman when she can squash her husband +with the church. I gad, it seems that all a married woman wants with a +church is to hit her husband on the head with it." + +"John, now you are the echo of old Gid." + +"I'm not and you know it, but there are times when a man would be +excusable for being the echo of the devil. But for gracious sake don't +cry. Enough to make a man butt his head against the wall. Just as a man +thinks a woman is stronger than a lion she tunes up and cries. There, +Margaret, let it all go. There." He put his arm about her. "Everything +will come out all right. I am wrong and I confess it. I am bull-headed +and as mean as a dog." + +"No, you are not," she protested, wiping her eyes. + +"Yes, I am and I see it now. You are always right. And you may manage +this affair just as you see fit. Poor little girl. But never mind, it +will all come right. Let us walk down the lane. It is beautiful down +there. The frost has painted things up for you; the sumac bushes are +flaming and the running briars on the fences are streams of fire. Come +on." He took her by the hand and led her away. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Within a few days a great change was wrought in the appearance of the +old log house. The roof, which had been humped in the middle like the +back of a lean, acorn-hunting hog, was straightened and reshingled; the +yard was enclosed with a neat fence; and the stack chimney which had +leaned off from the house as if it would fall, was shoved back and held +in place with strong iron bands. And the interior was transformed. Soft +carpets were spread, easy chairs provided, the rough walls were papered +and the windows were curtained. The fire-light fell upon pictures, and a +cat had come to take her place at the corner of the hearth; but in the +dead of night, when all the birds were hushed, when the wind moaned in +the plum thicket, the hollow and distressing cough echoed throughout the +house. At evening sorrowful-looking cows would come down the lane, and +standing at the gate would low mournfully, an attention which they ever +seek to pay a dismal place, but Jim Taylor entered a complaint, +threatened violence and finally compelled their owners to have them +driven home before the arrival of their time for lonesome lowing. It was +Jim's custom to call at morning and at evening. Sometimes, after +looking about the place, he would merely come to the door and ask after +Mr. Pennington and then go away. + +One morning when Louise answered his tap at the door, she told him that +the sufferer was much better and that she believed he was going to get +well. + +"I'm mighty glad to hear it," he replied. "The doctors can't always +tell." + +"Won't you come in?" + +"No, I might worry him." + +"Oh, not in the least. He's asleep anyway, and I'm lonesome. Come in, +please." + +He followed her into the house, trying to lessen his weight as if he +were walking on thin ice; and the old house cracked its knuckles, but +his foot-fall made not a sound. She placed a chair for him and sat down +with her hands in her lap, and how expressive they were, small and thin, +but shapely. She was pale and neat in a black gown. To him she had never +looked so frail, and her eyes had never appeared so deeply blue, but her +hands--he could not keep his eyes off them--one holding pity and the +other full of appeal. + +"Don't you need a little more wood on?" he asked. + +"No, it's not cold enough for much fire." + +"Where did you get that cat?" + +"She came crying around the other day and I let her in, and she has made +herself at home." + +"The negroes say it's good luck for a cat to come to the house." She +sighed. "I don't believe in luck." + +"I do. I believe in bad luck, for it's generally with me. Does your +mother come every day?" + +"Yes, although I beg her not to." + +"I reckon she'll do about what she wants to. Has the Major----" + +She held up her hand and he sat looking at her with his mouth half open. +But at the risk of offending her, he added: "I didn't know but he might +have come over." + +"He would, but I won't let him." + +"And do you think it's exactly right not to let him?" + +"I think it is exactly right to do as a something within me dictates," +she answered. "He placed me in a certain position----" + +"But he is more than willing to take you out of it," Taylor broke in. +"He doesn't want you to remain in that position." + +"No, he can't take me out of it. He charged me with ingratitude, and I +would rather he had driven me off the place. Nothing can be much crueler +than to remind one of ingratitude; it is like shooting from behind a +rock; it is having one completely at your mercy." + +Now she sat leaning forward with her hands clasped over her knees. +Pennington coughed slightly in his sleep and she looked toward the bed. +She straightened up and put the hair back out of her eyes and Taylor +followed the motion of her hand. + +"Did he eat the squirrel?" + +"Yes, and enjoyed it." + +The cat got up, stretched, and rubbing against the tongs, knocked them +down with a clatter. Pennington awoke. Louise was beside him in a +moment. "Ah, it's you, Mr. Taylor," he said. + +"Yes, but it wasn't me that made the noise." + +"Oh, it didn't disturb me, I assure you. I was just about waking up +anyway. That will do, thank you." Louise had begun to arrange the +pillows. "I'll sit up. See how strong I am. Give me a pipe. I believe I +can smoke a little." + +She went to fill a pipe for him, and turning to Taylor, he said: "I'm +getting stronger now every day; good appetite, sleep first-rate. And +I'll be able to walk about pretty soon. Oh, they had me dead, you know, +but I knew better all the time." + +Louise placed a coal upon his pipe and handed it to him. She said that +she was afraid it might make him cough, but it did not. + +"I have always maintained that there was nothing the matter with my +lungs," he said, contentedly blowing rings of smoke. "Why, I hadn't a +symptom of consumption except the cough, and that's about gone. And my +prospects were never better than they are this minute. Received a letter +yesterday from over in Alabama--want me to take a professorship in a +college. The first thing you know I shall have charge of the entire +institution. And when I get up in the world I want it understood, Mr. +Taylor, that I shall never forget you. Your kindness----" + +"Don't speak of it," Taylor put in, holding up his hand in imitation of +Louise. "I've known this little lady, sir, all her life, and I'd be a +brute to forget her in time of trouble." + +"Yon are a true-hearted man, Mr. Taylor, and I shall never forget you, +sir." And after a short silence, he added: "All I desire is a chance, +for with it, I can make Louise happy. I need but little money, I should +not know how to disport a large fortune, but I do desire a comfortable +home with pictures and books. And I thank the Lord that I appreciate the +refinements of this life." In silence he smoked, looking up at the +rings. "Ah, but it was dark for me a short time ago, Mr. Taylor. They +made me believe that I was going to die. We hear a great deal of +resignation, of men who welcome the approach of death, but I was in +despair. And looking upon a strong man, a man whose strength was thrown +upon him, a man who had never thought to take even the slightest care +of himself, I was torn with blasphemous rage. It wasn't right. But thank +God, I lived through that dark period, and am now getting well. Don't +you think so?" + +"Why, yes, I can see it. And I'll tell you what we'll do: I'll bring +over the dogs pretty soon and we'll go hunting. How does that strike +you?" + +Pennington propped himself higher in the bed and put his pipe on a +chair. "It has been a long time since I went hunting," he said, +musingly. "It seems a long time since I have done anything, except to +brood over my failing health. But I will have no more of that. Yes, I +will go hunting with you." He shoved up the sleeve of his shirt and +called his wife's attention. "Don't you think I'm getting more flesh on +my arm? Look here. No dying man has this much muscle. Louise, I'm going +to get up. There is really no use of my lying here." + +He threw off the covers and the giant arose and stood looking upon him, +smiling sadly. He asked for his clothes, and when Louise had brought +them he picked at a worn spot and said: "I must get some clothes with +the first money I earn. I didn't know that this coat was so far gone. +Why, look, it is almost threadbare; and the trousers are not much +better. Let a man get sick and he feels that the world is against him; +let him get well and wear poor clothes, and he will find that the world +doesn't think enough of him to set itself against him--find that the +world does not know him at all." + +Taylor ventured upon the raveled platitude that clothes do not make the +man. Pennington shook his head, still examining his trousers. "That will +do in a copy-book, but not in life," said he. And then looking up as +Taylor moved toward the door, he asked: "Are you going?" + +"Yes, I must get back to see how things are getting along. Be over again +to-morrow." + +Louise went with him out into the passage. He halted at the log step and +stood there, looking at her. "Mr. Taylor, I can never forget your +kindness," she said. + +"All right, but I hope you won't remember to mention it again." + +He looked at her hands, looked into her eyes; and frankly she returned +his gaze, for it was a gaze long and questioning. + +"Your friendship----" he held up his hand to stop her. "Won't you let me +speak of that, either?" + +"You may speak of it, but you must know that it does not exist," he +answered, leaning against a corner of the house, still looking at her. + +"But you don't mean that you are not my friend?" + +"I mean what I told you some time ago--that there can be no friendship +between a big man and a little woman." + +"Oh, I had forgotten that." + +"No, you hadn't; you thought of it just then as you spoke." + +"Why, Mr. Taylor, how can you say that?" + +"I can say it because it is true. No, there can be no friendship between +us." + +"You surely don't mean that there can be anything else." She had drawn +back from him and was stiffly erect with her arms folded, her head high; +and so narrow was the hard look she gave him that her eyes appeared +smaller. Her lips were so tightly compressed that dimples showed in her +cheeks; and thus with nature's soft relics of babyhood, she denied her +own resentment. + +"On your part I don't presume that there can be anything else," he +answered, speaking the words slowly, as if he would weigh them one at a +time on the tip of his tongue. "You may think of me as you please, as +circumstances now compel you to think, and I will think of you not as I +please, but as I must." + +"Please don't talk that way. Don't reproach me when I am in such need +of--of friendship. One of these days you may know me better, but now you +can regard me only as a freak. Yes, I am a freak." + +"You are an angel." + +"Mr. Taylor!" Again her head was high, and in her eyes was the same +suggestion of a sharp squint. + +"You didn't tell me that I shouldn't think of you as I please." + +"But I didn't tell you to speak what you might be pleased to think. +There, Carl is calling me. Good-bye." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Jim Taylor, too humane to impose the burden of his weight upon a horse, +always made his visits on foot, and this day while trudging homeward, he +met Mrs. Cranceford. She had of late conceived so marked a sympathy for +him, that her manner toward him was warmly gentle. + +Taylor stepped to the road-side and halted there as she drove up alone +in a buggy. With a sorrowful reverence he took off his hat, and she +smiled sympathetically; and the lazy old horse, appearing to understand +it all, stopped of his own accord. + +"Good morning, Jim. Have you been over to the house?" + +"Yes, ma'm, just left there." + +"How is he?" + +"So much better that I believe he's going to get well." + +"You don't say so! Why, I am----" she was about to say that she was +delighted to hear it, but on the giant's face she thought she saw a +deeper shadow lying, heard in his voice a softer note of sorrow; and +considerately she checked her intended utterance. Then they looked at +each other and were ashamed. + +"He was up dressing himself when I left." + +"You surprise me." + +"And he has surprised us all, ma'm. I don't believe he's got +consumption; his cough has left him. Why, he's thinking of taking a +place in a college over in Alabama." + +"He is? But I hope he won't take Louise so far from home." + +He shifted his position and sunk his hands deep into his pockets. "I +guess he thinks she can't be so very far from home as long as she is +with him." + +"But it makes no difference what he thinks." Mrs. Cranceford persisted. +"He must not take her over there. Why, I should think he could find +employment here." Jim looked far away, and she added: "Is your cotton +turning out well?" + +"First-rate, and I want to sell it as soon as I can. I've got to go +away." + +"Go away!" she repeated. "You don't mean it?" + +"Yes, ma'm, I do. If he gets well they won't have any more use for me +and I might as well go off somewhere and take a fresh start; and +besides, I can't keep from showing that I love her, and no matter how +cool she might be toward me it couldn't help but pain him. And there are +people in this neighborhood mean enough to talk about it: No longer ago +than yesterday that strapping Alf Joyner threw out a hint of this sort, +and although he meant it in fun, maybe, I snatched him off the fence +where he was sitting, and walloped him in the road. No, I can't keep +from showing how much I think of her; there is so much of me," he added, +with a smile, "that I can't be a hypercrite all over at once." + +At this she smiled, but her countenance grew serious and she said: + +"I am sorry you have been compelled to resent an insinuation." She +gathered up the lines. "But perhaps you imagine more than is intended. +It is easy, and also natural that you should." + +Jim made no reply. She bowed to him, shook the lines, and the old horse +moved on. Just before reaching a bend in the road, she looked back at +him. How powerful was his bearing, how strong his stride; and with all +his bigness he was not ungraceful. + +Everywhere, in the fields, along the fences, lay October's wasteful +ripeness, but the season was about to turn, for the bleak corner of +November was in sight. A sharp wind blew out of a cloud that hung low +over the river, and far away against the darkening sky was a gray +triangle traced, the flight of wild geese from the north. With the +stiffening and the lagging of the breeze came lower and then louder the +puffing of a cotton gin. + +Under a persimmon tree Jim Taylor halted, and with his arms resting on a +fence he stood dreamily looking across a field. Afar off the cotton +pickers were bobbing between the rows. The scene was more dull than +bright; to a stranger it would have been dreary, the dead level, the +lone buzzard away over yonder, sailing above the tops of the ragged +trees; but for this man the view was overspread with a memory of +childhood. He was meditating upon leaving his home; he felt that his +departure was demanded. And yet he knew that not elsewhere could he find +contentment. Amid such scenes he had been born and reared. He was like +the deer--would rather feed upon the rough oak foliage of a native +forest than to feast upon the rich grasses of a strange land. But he had +made up his mind to go. He had heard of the charm of the hills, the +valleys and the streams in the northern part of the state, and once he +had gone thither to acquaint himself with that paradise, but in +disappointment he had come back, bringing the opinion that the people +were cold and unconcerned in the comfort and the welfare of a stranger. +So, with this experience fresh in his mind, he was resolved not to +re-settle in his own commonwealth, but to go to a city, though feeling +his unfitness for urban life. But he thought, as so many men and women +have been forced to think, that life in a crowd would invite +forgetfulness, that his slow broodings would find a swift flow into the +tide that swallows the sad thoughts of men. + +A sudden noise in the road broke the web of his musing, and looking +about, he recognized Low, the Englishman. Between his teeth the Briton +held his straight-stem pipe, and on his shoulder he carried his bath +tub. + +"Moving?" Taylor asked. + +"Ah, good morning. No--not moving. An outrage has been committed. During +the night someone punched a hole in the bottom of my bath. Don't know +who could have done it; most extraordinary, I assure you. One of those +ungrateful blacks, I warrant. Going this way? I shall be glad of your +company. Ah, do you happen to know of a tinker?" he asked, as together +they walked along the road. + +"A what?" + +"A tinker to mend my bath?" + +"Haven't any such thing about here, but I guess the blacksmith can mend +your tub. Here, let me carry it for you a ways. You must be tired of it +by this time." + +He protested, but Taylor took the tub. "Thank you. You are very kind, +I'm sure. I would have sent it, but these rascals are so untrustworthy. +Ah, how long do you conjecture it would take one to make his fortune in +this community?" + +"It depends more upon the man than the community," Taylor answered. "I +know one that never could." + +"And by Jove, I fancy I have a very intimate acquaintance with another. +But I rather like it here, you know. I have plenty of room and no one is +much disposed to interfere with me except those rascally blacks, and +upon my honor I believe they tried to ruin my bath. Don't you think +you'd better let me take it now?" + +"No; I'll carry it. Wouldn't have known I had it if you hadn't reminded +me." + +"You are very kind, I'm sure. Ah, by the way, a very singular man called +on me yesterday. Mayo, I believe, is his name." + +"Yes, we know him down here. Came very near getting a dose of rope once. +He tries to be a Moses among the negroes, but instead of leading them +out of the wilderness he's going to lead them into trouble." + +"I dare say as much, if they listen to him. But he avers that he doesn't +want an office--wants only to see that the blacks get what they are +entitled to." + +"And about the first thing that will be done for him after he gets what +he's entitled to," Jim replied, "will be the sending of his measure to a +coffin maker." + +"I surmise as much, I assure you. I didn't encourage him to prolong his +visit; indeed, I told him that I preferred to be alone." + +They turned out of the lane into a wood, crossed a bayou, and pursuing +their way a short distance further, Taylor halted, and handing the +Englishman his tub, pointed to a path that crossed the road. "That will +take you to the blacksmith shop," he said. + +"Ah, you are very kind," Low replied, shouldering his treasure. He +turned down the path, but after going a short distance stopped and faced +about. "I say, there!" he cried. "Oh, Taylor. Just a moment. I wouldn't +mind having you over any evening, you know. You are a devilish decent +fellow." + +"All right; you may look for me most any time. Take you out 'possum +hunting some night." + +Low was now humping himself down the path, and Taylor turned to pursue +his way homeward, when once more the Englishman faced about and shouted: +"You are very kind, I'm sure. I shall be delighted." + +Jim Taylor was master of a small plantation and sole inhabiter of the +house wherein he was born. In the garden, under a weeping-willow tree, +were the graves of his parents and of his sister, a little girl, +recalled with emotion--at night when a high wind was blowing, for she +had ever been afraid of a storm; and she died on a day when a fierce +gale up the river blew down a cottonwood tree in the yard. She and +Louise were as sisters. At her grave the giant often sat, for she was a +timid little creature, afraid to be alone; and sometimes at night when +the wind was hard, when a cutting sleet was driving, he would get out of +his bed and stand under the tree to be near her. It was so foolishly +sentimental of so strong a man that he would not have dared to tell +anyone, but to the child in the grave he told his troubles. So, on this +morning, when the wind was gathering its forces as it swept the fields, +as the clouds were thickening far away among the whitish tops of the +dead cypress trees, he went straightway to the weeping-willow, passed +the grave of his father, his mother, and sat down beside the stone that +bore the name and the age of the little one. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +When Mrs. Cranceford returned home early in the afternoon, she told the +Major, whom she found pacing up and down the long porch, that Pennington +was up and walking about the house. She told him, also, that he was +resolved upon taking Louise to Alabama, and added that she herself would +oppose this determination up to the very moment of departure. + +The Major grunted. "What right have you to do that?" he asked. "Why +should you meddle with the affairs of a man that is seeking to make a +living for his wife?" + +"John, you are laughing at me and I know it. Here lately you make light +of everything I say." + +The season was changing, he felt its influence, and he shook with good +humor as he walked. + +"John, you are so tickled that you can't answer me." + +"Why, I could answer you very easily if I only knew what you want me to +say." + +This broke her whimsical resentment of his droll playfulness; she +laughed with him, and taking his arm, walked up and down the porch. They +talked of many things--of Louise's persistent stubbornness, and of a +growing change in the conduct of Tom--his abstraction and his +gentleness. He had left uncut the leaves of a sporting review, had taken +to romances, and in his room had been found, sprawled on foolscap, an +ill-rhymed screed in rapturous praise of soulful eyes and flaxen hair. +Mrs. Cranceford knew that he must be in love; so did the Major, but he +could not conjecture the object of so fervid a passion. But his wife had +settled upon the object and was worried, though of her distress she had +not spoken to Tom, so recent had been the discovery of the tell-tale +blotch of ink. But she would as soon as an opportunity offered. + +"It will soon pass," said the Major. "I don't think he intends to marry +her." + +"Marry her!" his wife exclaimed. "I would rather see him dead than +married into a family of white trash. She may be a most amiable young +person and all that, but he shan't marry her. It would break my heart, +and I vow she shall never come here. Why, she came from the pine woods +and is a cracker." + +"But the cracker may have a most gallant and well-born origin, my dear," +the Major replied. "The victim of a king's displeasure is not +insignificant; he must have been a force." + +"What! Do you approve of it?" she demanded, pulling away from him. "Is +it possible that you would not oppose his marriage into such a family +as hers must be?" + +"I don't think, my dear, that her father was in the penitentiary." + +"John, that is unworthy of you. I was grieved at Louise's marriage, and +you know it." + +In prankishness he sought a refuge; he laughed, but she did not follow +him. For a moment her black eyes were hard, then came a look of +distress--and tears. He put his arm about her. "Why, my dear, I didn't +mean to hurt your feelings; bless your life, I didn't. Why, of course, +he shan't marry her. Who ever heard of such a thing? I'll talk to +him--thrash him if you say the word. There, it's all right. Why, here +comes Gid." + +She went into the house as Batts came up, glancing back at him as she +passed through the door; and in her eyes there was nothing as soft as a +tear. The old fellow winced, as he nearly always did when she gave him a +direct look. + +"Are you all well?" Gideon asked, lifting the tails of his long coat and +seating himself in a rocking chair. + +"First-rate," the Major answered, drawing forward another rocker; and +when he had sat down, he added: "Somewhat of an essence of November in +the air." + +"Yes," Gid assented; "felt it in my joints before I got up this +morning." From his pocket he took a plug of tobacco. + +"I thought you'd given up chewing," said the Major. "Last time I saw you +I understood you to say that you had thrown your tobacco away." + +"I did, John; but, I gad, I watched pretty close where I threw it. +Fellow over here gave me some stuff that he said would cure me of the +appetite, and I took it until I was afraid it would, and then threw it +away. I find that when a man quits tobacco he hasn't anything to look +forward to. I quit for three days once, and on the third day, about the +time I got up from the dinner table, I asked myself: 'Well, now, got +anything to come next?' And all I could see before me was hours of +hankering; and I gad, I slapped a negro boy on a horse and told him to +gallop over to the store and fetch me a hunk of tobacco. And after I +broke my resolution I thought I'd have a fit there in the yard waiting +for that boy to come back. I don't believe that it's right for a man to +kill any appetite that the Lord has given him. Of course I don't believe +in the abuse of a good thing, but it's better to abuse it a little +sometimes than not to have it at all. If virtue consists in deadening +the nervous system to all pleasurable influences, why, you may just mark +my name off the list. There was old man Haskill. I sat up with him the +night after he died, and one of the men with me was harping upon the +great life the old fellow had lived--never chewed, never smoked, never +was drunk, never gambled, never did anything except to stand still and +be virtuous--and I couldn't help but feel that he had lost nothing by +dying. Haven't seen Louise, have you?" + +"No; but I have about made up my mind to go over there, whether she +wants me or not." + +"I believe I would, John. We haven't long to stay here, and nothing +sweetens our sojourn like forgiveness. I don't mean it in sacrilege, but +Christ was greatest and closest to His Father when he forgave the +thief." + +"That's true," said the Major. "You may not be able to think very +coherently, Gid, but sometimes you stroll into a discussion and bark the +shins of thought." + +"Easy, John. I am a thinker. My mind is full of pictures when your fancy +is checkered with red and blue lines. So you are willing to forgive +her?" he added after a pause. + +"Yes, more than willing. But she isn't ready to be forgiven. She has +some very queer notions, and I'll be hanged if I know where she picked +them up. At times she's most unnatural." + +"Don't say that, John. I gad, sir, what right has one person to say that +another person is unnatural? Who of us is appointed to set up the +standard and gauge of naturalness? Who is wholly consistent? You may +say the average man. Ah, but if everyone conformed to the average there +would be nothing great in the world. There is no greater bore than the +well-balanced man. He wears us out with his evenness. You know what he's +going to say before he says it." + +"I grant you all that; but the well-balanced man made it possible for +the genius to make the world great. Genius is the bloom that bursts out +at the top of commonplace humanity." + +"Yes, that's all very well; but just at present I'd like to have a +little liquor. Be easy, though, and don't let the madam know what you're +after." + +"There's not a drop in the house, Gid, but there's a demijohn in the +office. Let's step out there." + +"No, I believe not, John," the old fellow replied, with a shudder. +"Can't you bring it out?" + +"She'll see me if I do. You must go with me. Whisky that's not worth +going after is not worth drinking." + +"You are right, John; but you have stated one of those truths that are +never intended to be used except in the absence of something else that +might have been said. Plain truths are tiresome, John. They never lend +grace to a conversation." + +"What do you know about the graces of conversation? You are better +fitted to talk of the disgraces of conduct." + +"Slow, John. But I know that a truth to be interesting must be whimsical +or so blunt that it jolts." + +"But didn't it jolt you when I said that you must go into the office +after the liquor?" + +"Yes; but cruelly, John. You must never jolt cruelly. I gad, I'm getting +old. Do you realize that we have known each other intimately for +thirty-five years?" + +Mrs. Cranceford came out upon the porch. "Ah," said old Gid, without +changing his tone, and as if he were continuing a moral discourse, +"thirty-five years ago we heard an old circuit-rider preach at Gum +Springs, and while we could not subscribe to his fiery doctrine, being +inclined to the broader and more enlightened faith of the Episcopal +church, yet the fervor and sincerity of his utterances made a lasting +impression on us. Madam, I hear with much pleasure that Mr. Pennington +is better." + +"Yes, he is feeling quite improved," she replied, merely glancing at +him. "Did the Major think enough of him to tell you?" + +The Major looked at Gid, winked at him, and the old fellow believing +that he knew what was wanted, thus answered: "Yes, ma'am, but I first +heard it from the priest. He knows everything, it seems. I met him down +the road and had quite a talk with him. By the way, I read a number of +years ago a most edifying book, 'The Prince of the House of David.' You +doubtless have it in your collection, and may I ask you to lend it to +me?" + +She had but small faith in the old fellow's sincerity, and yet she was +pleased to see him manifest an interest in so godly a book. "Yes, and I +will get it for you," she answered, going straightway to look for it; +and when she had passed through the door, Gid snatched a bottle out of +his pocket and held it out toward the Major. "Here, John, hurry out +there and fill this up while she's gone. Meet me around at the gate. +Quick!" + +"Why, you old rascal, do you suppose me capable of complicity in such a +fraud?" + +"Oh, that's all right, John. Hurry up. I could get liquor, plenty of it, +but yours always hits me where I live. I'm sick, I tell you, and hang +it, I'm getting old. You don't seem to realize that I'm an old man, not +long for this vain world. Take it, John, and hurry up. Confound it, you +won't be deceiving her; it would be an advantage taken of her +unreasonable prejudice. You never saw me drunk and never will. +Thunderation, here she comes!" + +He stuffed the bottle back into his hip pocket and the Major threw +himself back with a loud laugh. Mrs. Cranceford, handing the book to +Gid, cast a suspicious look at the Major, who continued to shake. "Why, +what has amused you so?" she asked. And now old Gid was nodding and +chuckling in hypocritical diversion. "I was just telling him of the +first time I borrowed a copy of this book," he said. "Walked four miles +to get it, and when I returned, some rascal had greased the foot-log and +I slipped off into the creek. Oh, it's very funny now, but it wasn't +then; had to fight to keep from losing the book and came within one of +drowning. Well, I must go. Ma'am, I'm a thousand times obliged to you +for this store-house of faith, and I assure you that I'll take the best +of care that it shall come back to you in good condition. By the way, +John, is your office locked? I'll step out there and get that paper." + +"Yes, it's locked. I'll go with you." + +"Oh, never mind. Let me have the key." + +"But you can't find the paper." + +"Well, let it go; I can get it some other time." + +The Major, slyly shaking, walked with him to the end of the porch. +"You've played thunder," the old fellow whispered. "I didn't think it of +you. I gad, every chance you get you hoist me on your hip and slam the +life out of me. Sick as a dog, too. Again, ma'am," he added, turning +about, "let me thank you for this book. And Major," he said aloud, and +"damn you," he breathed, "I hope to see you over my way soon." + +He swore at his horse as he mounted, and throwing back a look of +reproach, he jogged off down the road. But he had not proceeded more +than a mile when a boy, urging a galloping horse, overtook him and gave +him a bundle; and therein he found a bottle of whisky, with these words +written in red ink and pasted on the glass: "You are an old fool." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +All day the clouds had been gathering, hanging low over the fields. At +evening came a downpour of rain, and at night a fitful wind was +blowing--one moment of silence and then a throb of rain at the windows. +In his office the Major sat, looking over the affairs of his estate. It +was noted that he preferred a stormy night thus to apply himself; the +harshness of figures, the unbending stubbornness of a date, in his mind +seemed to find a unity with the sharp whistle of the wind and the lashes +of rain on the moss-covered roof. Before him, on yellowing paper, was +old Gid's name, and at it he slowly shook his head, for fretfully he +nursed the consciousness of having for years been the dupe of that man's +humorous rascality. The plantation was productive, the old fellow had +gathered many a fine crop, and for his failure to pay rent there could +be no excuse, except the apologies devised by his own trickish +invention. Year after year, in his appeals for further indulgence, he +had set up the plea of vague obligations pressing upon him, some old +debt that he was striving to wipe out and from which he would soon be +freed; and then, no longer within the tightening grasp of merciless +scoundrels, he would gratefully devote the proceeds of his energies to +the discharge of the obligations held so lightly over him by the noblest +man on earth. Once he returned from New Orleans, whither he had gone to +sell his cotton, with the story that he had been knocked senseless and +robbed of his wallet, and in proof of this he produced a newspaper +account of the midnight outrage, and exhibited a wound on the head, +inflicted by the bludgeon of the footpad. And with such drollery did he +recite this story that the Major laughed at him, which meant, of course, +that his tenure of the old plantation was not to be disturbed. The +memory of this rascally trick came back to the Major as he sat there +looking over his papers. He recounted it all as a reminiscence of his +own weakness, and he was firmly and almost angrily resolved that this +season the old fellow should not waddle from under his obligations. +Amusement was well enough; to laugh at a foible was harmless, but +constantly to be cheated was a crime against his wife and his children. +Children? Yes, for out of no calculation for the future did he leave +Louise. + +There came a tap at the door. Mrs. Cranceford had sent a negro boy with +an umbrella and a lantern. The night was wild, and the slanting rain hit +hard. Before he reached the house the wind puffed out his lantern, +leaving him to stumble through the dark. + +As he stepped upon the porch there was a loud "halloa" at the gate, and +just at that moment he heard his wife's voice. "John, go out there and +see who that is," she said. + +He went round to the gate. His wife stood on the porch waiting for him. +Presently he came back, walking rapidly. + +"Who is it, dear?" + +"A negro man. Margaret, we must go at once to Louise. Pennington is +dying." + +With an inarticulate note of astonishment she fled to her room, to +prepare herself for the journey, and the Major loudly commanded the +carriage to be brought out. + +Lanterns flashed across the yard, under the streaming trees, and +flickered in the gale that howled about the barn. + +Pale, impatient, and wrapped in a waterproof, Mrs. Cranceford stood at +the front doorway. The carriage drew up at the gate. "Are you ready?" +the Major asked, speaking from the darkness in the midst of the rain. + +"Yes," she answered, stepping out and closing the door. + +"Where is Tom?" the Major inquired. + +"He hasn't come home." + +"He ought to go. I wonder where he can be." + +"He could be most any place," she answered; and as she stepped under +the umbrella to walk with him to the gate, she added: "But I think he is +at Wash Sanders' house." + +He helped her into the carriage, took a seat beside her, and shut the +door with a slam. "As fast as you can!" he shouted to the driver. They +sat a long time in silence, listening to the rain and the hoofs of the +horses sloshing in the wet sand. The carriage stopped. + +"What's the matter?" + +"De bayou, sah." + +"Drive on." + +"De bridge is full o' holes." + +"Drive through." + +"De water's mighty high." + +"Drive through." + +Down they went with a splash. The carriage swayed, was lifted, was swung +round--the horses lunged; one of the doors was burst open and the water +poured in. Mrs. Cranceford clung to the Major, but she uttered not a +word. Up the slippery bank the horses strained. One of them fell, but he +was up in a moment. Firmer footing was gained, and the road was reached. +Now they were in a lane. The Major struck a match and looked at his +watch. It was nearly two o'clock. Across the fields came a light--from +Louise's window. + +The carriage drew up at the gate. + +"That you, Major?" a voice asked. + +"Yes. Why, how did you get here, Jim?" + +"Tore down the fences and rode across the fields." + +"How is he?" the Major asked, helping his wife to the ground. + +"I haven't been in--been walking up and down out here. Thought I'd wait +for you." + +At the entrance of the passageway Louise met them. She kissed her +mother, saying not a word. The Major held out his arms toward her. She +pretended not to notice this complete surrender; she took his hand and +turned her face from him. + +"My poor little girl, I----" + +She dropped his hand, opened the door of a room opposite the dying man's +chamber and said: "Step in here, please. Mother, you and Jim may come +with me." + +The old man broke down. "My precious child, God knows----" + +"Will you please step in here? I will come with you. Mother, you and +Jim----" She pointed to the door of her husband's room. In sorrowful +obedience the Major bowed his head and crossed the threshold. In the +room was a fire and on the mantel-piece a lamp was burning. + +"Sit down," she said. + +"Louise, I have not deserved this." + +"Take the rocking chair, please." + +He stood with his hands resting on the back of the chair. "Why do you +hold me off with such stubbornness? Why continue to be so unnatural a +child, so incomprehensible a woman?" Even now he did not forget to +measure his sentences, but with the depth of his earnestness his voice +was wavering, "You know----" + +"Yes, I know," she broke in, looking full at him, and her face smote him +with pity. "But this is no time for explanations." She turned toward the +door. + +"Are you going to leave me?" he asked, following her. + +"Yes. Mother will tell you all that is to be told." + +She went out and closed the door. The Major walked softly up and down +the room, listening, but he heard nothing save the creaking of the house +and the moaning of the wind in the old plum thicket. A long time passed, +and then Mrs. Cranceford entered. Her eyes were wet with tears. "It is +all over," she said. At the moment the Major made no reply. He led her +to a chair, and when she had sat down, looking up at him, he leaned over +her and said: "Margaret, I know you can't help appreciating my position; +and I feel that I am the keenest sufferer under this roof, for to me all +consolation is denied. Now, what is expected of me? I am going to make +no more protests--I am going to do as I am instructed. What is expected +of me?" + +"Go home, dear, and wait until I come," she answered. + +"But doesn't that seem hard, Margaret?" + +"Yes; but it is her wish and we must not oppose it." + +"I will do as you say," he replied, and kissing her he added: "If you +can, make her feel that I love her. Tell her that I acknowledge all the +wrong." He stepped out into the passage, but he came back to the door, +and standing there for a moment, he said: "Make her feel that I love +her." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Pennington was buried in the yard of the church wherein he had taught +school. No detail of the arrangements was submitted to the Major. For a +time he held out that the family burial ground was the proper place for +the interment, under the trees where his father and his mother were laid +to rest, but Louise stood in strong opposition to this plan, even though +appearances called for its adoption. So, after this, the Major offered +no suggestion. + +At the grave there was no hysterical grief. The day was bleak and the +services were short. When all had been done, the Major gently put his +arm about his daughter and said that she must go home with him. + +"Not now," she replied; and she did not look up at him. "But please +don't worry over me; don't feel that you have to do something. Mother is +going with me, and after that you may know what I intend to do. Please +don't urge me. Let me have my way just a little longer." + +He stepped back from her and Mrs. Cranceford took her arm and led her +away. The Major slowly followed them. He felt the inquisitive look of a +neighbor, and his shoulders stiffened. + +In a buggy the mother and the daughter had followed the hearse; the +Major, Tom and big Jim Taylor were driven in the family carriage. Louise +was to go back to the desolate house. The Major stoutly opposed this, +pleaded with her after she had seated herself in the buggy, clutched the +spoke of a muddy wheel as if he would hold her back. She took the lines +from her mother, tossed them upon the horse, folded her arms, and in +silence waited. + +"John, dear," said Mrs. Cranceford, "let us drive on. There, please +don't attract the attention of those people. You know what gossips they +are." + +The Major spoke to Louise. "Will you answer me one question?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Is it your intention to live alone in that wretched house?" + +"No, sir; but I must go there to think." + +The Major stepped back, and with a handkerchief wiped his muddy hand. +"Margaret, I leave her with you," he said. + +Shortly after the Major reached home his wife arrived, but Louise was +not with her. "I could do nothing," she said. "When we drove up to the +gate she jumped out and declared that I must come on home. I pleaded +with her, but she wouldn't yield. Two old women were in the house and +she said that they were company enough; she wanted to think and they +would not distract her thoughts. I told her that if she would agree to +let me stay I would not say a word, but she shook her head. 'You shall +hear from me to-morrow,' were her words, 'but you must leave me to +myself to-night. It is of no use to urge me.' I saw that it wasn't, and +I drove away. I declare I can't make her out." + +"Most unreasonable creature I ever saw," the Major replied, uneasily +walking up and down the room. "She has made me contemptible in the eyes +of this neighborhood, and now appears determined to disgrace herself." + +"Don't say that, John." + +"Why not? It's a fact." + +"It is not a fact. I am not afraid of a daughter of mine disgracing +herself. It's only bad blood that disgraces itself." + +"I am not so sure about that when women throughout the entire country +are striving to be unnatural. By the blood----" + +"John." + +He wheeled about and looked at her. "But I ask you if it isn't enough to +make a saint pull out his hair? Simply opposed her marriage, used +legitimate argument, and afterward begged like a dog. Isn't it enough to +make me spurn the restraints of the church and take up the language of +the mud-clerk?" + +"No, dear; nothing should prompt you to do that. You have a soul to be +saved." + +"But is it necessary that my life should be tortured out of me in order +that my soul may be saved? I don't care to pay such a price. Is it put +down that I must be a second Job? Is a boil the sign of salvation?" + +"For goodness' sake don't talk that way," she pleaded, but she had to +turn her face away to hide her smile from him. + +"But I've got to talk some way. Just reflect on her treatment of me and +how I have humbled myself and whined at her feet. And I ask what may we +not expect of such a creature? Is it that she wants to be different from +anyone else? Let me tell you one thing: The woman who seeks to be +strongly individualized may attain her aim, but it leads to a sacrifice +of her modesty. I say she is in danger of disgracing herself." + +Mrs. Cranceford shook her head. "You wait and we shall see. No member of +my family was ever disgraced. I may be distressed at her peculiarities, +at times, but I shall never be afraid for her conduct." + +Early the next morning a negro brought a letter from Louise. Mrs. +Cranceford hastened to the office to read it to the Major. It appeared +to have been written with care and thus was it worded: + +"My Dear Mother:--I am thankful that I am not to look upon the surprise +and sorrow you must feel in reading this letter. I hardly know how to +rake together and assort what I desire to say, but I will do the best I +can, and if you fail to understand me, do not charge it against +yourself, but list it with my other faults. What I have recently gone +through with is quite enough to unstring the nerves of a stronger woman +than I am, and what must be my condition? Worn out and weary of any life +that I could conceive of here--don't you see how I am floundering about? +But give me time and in all honesty you shall know the true state of my +mind. Many a time father has said that he did not understand me, and +more than once you have charged me with being strange. But I am sure +that I have never tried to be mysterious. I have had thoughts that would +not have appeared sane, had I written them, but I have never been +foolishly romantic, although my education has been far from practical. +The first thing I remember was a disappointment, and that was not being +a boy. It may be a vanity, but at that early age I seemed to recognize +the little privileges given to a boy and denied a girl. But as I grew +older I was shocked by the roughness and cruelty of boys, and then I was +pleased to reflect that I was of gentler mold. At some time of life I +suppose we are all enigmas unto ourselves; the mystery of being, the +ability to move, and the marvelous something we call emotion, startles +us and drives us into a moody and speculative silence. I give this in +explanation of my earlier strangeness. I could always talk readily, but +never, not even to you, could I tell completely what I thought. Most +young people are warned against the trash that finds its way--no one +appears to know how--into the library of the home, but I remember to +have been taken to task for reading mannish books. And in some measure I +heeded the lecture thus delivered, but it is to mannish books that I owe +my semblance of common sense." + +"What is she trying to get at?" the Major broke in. "Have you read it? +If you have, tell me what she says." + +"I am reading it now," his wife replied; and thus she continued: + +"The strongest emotion of my life has been pity, and you know that I +never could keep a doll nor a trinket if a strong appeal was made for +it. I grew up to know that this was a weakness rather than a virtue, but +never has my judgment been strong enough to prevail against it. And this +leads me to speak of my marriage. That was the result of pity and fear. +Let me see if I can make you understand me. That poor man's condition +smote my heart as never before had it been smitten. And when he made his +appeal to me, hollowed-eyed and coughing, I trembled, for I knew that +my nature would prompt me to yield, although I might fully estimate the +injustice to myself. So my judgment fought with my sense of pity, and in +the end, perhaps, might have conquered it, but for the element of fear +which was then introduced. The question of his soul was brought forward, +and he swore that I would send it to heaven or to hell. In the light of +what I have read, and in the recollection of what I have often heard +father say in his arguments with preachers, perhaps I should have been +strong enough to scout the idea of a literal torment, but I could not. +You remember old Aunt Betsy Taylor, Jim's black mammy. When I was very +young she was still living on the place, and was to me a curiosity, the +last of her race, I was told. I did not know what this meant, but it +gave her words great weight. Once she pictured hell for me, the roaring +furnace, the writhing of the damned, and no reason and no reading has +ever served to clear my mind of her awful painting. With her as the +advocate I could hear the groans of lost souls; and in my childish way I +believed that the old woman was inspired to spread the terrors of +perdition; nor has education and the little I have seen of society, +wholly changed this belief. So when Mr. Pennington swore to me that if I +refused to marry him he would die blaspheming the name of God, my +judgment tottered and fell. I sit here now, looking at the bed whereon +he died. You saw him breathe his last, saw his smile of peace and hope. +That smile was my reward. For it I had wrung the heart of my father and +wiped my feet upon his pride. But I had sent a soul above. I have set +myself to the task of perfect frankness, and I must tell you that in my +heart there was not the semblance of love for him, love as you know it; +there was only pity and I can say that pity is not akin to love. Yes. I +sold myself, not as many a woman has, not as I would have been praised +and flattered for doing--not for money, but to save a soul. This is +written at night, with a still clock above me, the hands recording the +hour and the minute of his death, and the light of the sun may fade my +words and make them ghastly, but I am revealing, to my mother, my inner +self." + +Mrs. Cranceford paused to wipe her eyes, and the Major, who had been +walking up and down the room, now stood looking through the window at +the sweep of yellow river, far away. + +"But does she say when she is coming home?" he asked without turning his +head. "Read on, please." + +The sheets were disarranged and it was some time before she obeyed. +"Read on, please," he repeated, and he moved from the window and stood +with his hands resting on the back of a chair. Mrs. Cranceford read on: + +"There is one misfortune of mine that has always been apparent to you +and that is my painful sensitiveness. It was, however, not looked upon +as a misfortune, but rather as a fault which at will I might correct, +but I could no more have obviated it than I could have changed my entire +nature. When father charged me with ingratitude I realized the justice +of the rebuke (from his point of view), while feeling on my side the +injustice of the imputation, for I was not ungrateful, but simply in a +desperate state of mind. I am afraid that I am not making myself clear. +But let me affirm that I do not lose sight of the debt I owe him, the +debt of gallantry. I had always admired him for his bravery, and +hundreds of times have I foolishly day-dreamed of performing a +life-saving office for him. But the manner--and pardon me for saying +it--the arrogance which he assumed over me, wounded me, and the wound is +still slowly bleeding. But in time it will heal, and when it does I will +go to him, but now I cannot." + +"But she must come to me or let me go to her!" the Major broke in. "I +confess that I didn't understand her. Why, there is heroism in her +composition. Go ahead, Margaret. She's got more sense than all of us. Go +ahead." + +Mrs. Cranceford continued: "I can conceive of nothing more useless than +my life at home would be. The truth is, I must do something, see +something, feel the throb rather than the continuous pressure of life. +Thousands of women are making their way in the world. Why should not I? +And it is not that I mean wholly to desert you or to love you less, but +I must go away, and before this letter reaches you I shall be on my +journey----" + +Mrs. Cranceford's trembling hands let the paper fall. The Major grabbed +it up, fumbled with it, put it upon the desk and sat down. In silence +they looked at each other, and their vision was not clear. "Read on," he +said. "We can stand anything now." + +She wiped her eyes and obeyed him: "Shall be on my journey. I have in +mind a certain place, but what place it is I must not tell you. If I +succeed I shall let you know, and if I fail--but I will base nothing +upon the probability of failure. I know that you will look upon this +almost as an act of insanity, and carrying out my resolve to be frank, I +must say that I do not know but that it is. It is, though, the only +course that promises relief and therefore I must take it. You must not +charge me with a lack of love for you and never must you lose faith in +me. It is singular that after all these years, after all our +confidences, I should choose a pen wherewith to make myself known to +you, and you may call me a most unnatural daughter, but you must charge +my unnaturalness to nature, and nothing that nature does should appear +unnatural when once we have come to understand it. I have money enough +to last me until I can secure employment. I hope that I know what sort +of employment it may be, but as there is in my hope a fear of failure, I +will not tell you. My training has not been systematic enough to enable +me to be a school teacher, for I know a little of many things, but am +thorough in nothing. But in some other line the mannish books may help +me. In reading this over I realize that I am vain and affected. But put +it down as another frankness. God bless you and good-bye." + +"I told you she would disgrace herself," the Major exclaimed, slapping +his hand upon the desk. + +"She has done nothing of the sort," his wife replied, stepping out and +closing the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +The neighbors were curious to know why Louise had left home and whither +she was gone. Day and night they came to ask questions, and though told +that she was visiting relatives in Kentucky, they departed suspecting +that something must be wrong. The gossips were more or less busy, and +Jim Taylor snatched another idler off the fence and trounced him in the +sand. + +Weeks passed and no letter came from Louise. The Major worried over her +until at last he forbade the mention of her name. During the day Mrs. +Cranceford was calm and brave, but many a time in the night the Major +heard her crying. Every Sunday afternoon Jim Taylor's tread was heard on +the porch. To the Major he talked of various things, of the cotton which +was nearly all picked, of the weakening or strengthening tendency of the +market, but when alone with Mrs. Cranceford his talk began and ended +with Louise. But in this he observed the necessity for great care, lest +the Major might hear him, and he chose occasions when the old gentleman +was in his office or when with Gid he strolled down into the woods. In +the broad parlor, in the log part of the house, Jim and Mrs. Cranceford +would sit, hours at a time; and never did she show an impatience of his +long lapses of silence nor of his monotonous professions of faith in the +run-away. And upon taking his leave he would never fail to say: "I +believe we'll hear from her to-morrow; I am quite sure of it." + +In the midst of the worry that followed the young woman's departure, +there had been but one mention of the young man's affair with the niece +of Wash Sanders. Mrs. Cranceford had spoken to him, not directly, but +with gentle allusion, and he had replied with an angry denunciation of +such meddlesomeness. "I'm not going to marry a dying woman," he +declared; "and I'm not going to take up any faded ninny that you and +father may pick out. I'm going to please myself, and when you decide +that I mustn't, just say the word and I'll hull out. And I don't want to +hear anything about crackers or white trash, either. That's me." + +His mother must have agreed that it was, for the weeks went by and not +again did she drop a hint of her anxiety. + +One rainy afternoon the Major and old Gid were sitting on a tool-box +under the barn shed, when Father Brennon came riding down the road. + +"As they say over the creek, light and look at your saddle!" the Major +shouted. + +With a nod and a smile the priest rode through the gate, dismounted, +gave his horse over to a negro who, in answer to a shout, had come +forward from some mysterious precinct of the barn-yard, shook hands with +the Major and Gid, and gracefully declining a seat on the tool-box, +rolled a barrel from against the wall and upon it seated himself. + +"More in accordance with the life of a priest," he said, tapping the +barrel with his knuckles. "It is rolling." + +"Ah," replied the Major, "and a barrel may also typify the reckless +layman. It is often full." + +The priest gave to this remark the approval of a courteous laugh. Even +though he might stand in a slippery place, how well he knew his ground. +To call forth a weak joke and then to commend it with his merriment--how +delightful a piece of flattery. And it can, in truth, be said that in +his heart he was sincere. To be pleasing was to him an art, and this art +was his second nature. + +"Mr. Brennon," said the Major (and under no compulsion would he have +said father), "I have thought a great deal of the argument we had some +time ago; and I have wondered, sir, that in coming to this community to +proselyte the negro, you did not observe the secrecy with which the +affairs of your church are usually conducted. But understand, please, +that I do not mean to reflect upon the methods of your creed, but +simply wonder that you have not followed a recognized precedent." + +The priest had taken hold of the chine at each end of the barrel and was +slowly rolling himself backward and forward. "I fail to see why any +secrecy should be observed in my work," he replied. "The Catholic church +has never made a secret of doing good--for we believe in the potency of +example. If we elevate the moral condition of one man, it is well that +another man should know it. The Methodist holds his revival and implores +the sinner to come forward and kneel at the altar. And as it were, I am +holding a revival--I am persuading the negro and the white man as well +to kneel under the cross. Should there be any secrecy in such a work?" + +"Well, no, not when you put it that way. But you know that we look upon +the Catholic religion as a foreign religion. It does not somehow seem +native to this soil. It is red with the pomp of monarchy, it has the +ceremonious restraint of the king's court; it hasn't the free noise of a +republic. I will not question its sincerity or the fact that it has in +view the betterment of man, but to us it will always seem an +importation." + +"It was here first," the priest replied, gravely smiling. "It discovered +this country." + +"We must grant that," the Major rejoined, "but still I insist that the +native born American regards it as a foreign institution, foreign to his +nature, to his sense of liberty, if not to his soul." + +"My dear Major, Christ is foreign to no soil. The earth is His Father's +foot-stool. The soul of man is the abiding place of the love of the +Saviour, and no heart is out-landish. What you may call liberty is an +education, but the soul as God's province is not made so by training, +but came with the first twinkling of light, of reason, the dawn of +time." + +"That's about as straight as any man can give it," old Gid joined in. +"But what puzzles me is why God is more at home in one man's heart than +in another. He fills some hearts with love and denies it to others; and +the heart that has been denied is cursed, through no fault of its +own--simply because it has not received--while the other heart is +blessed. I reckon the safest plan is to conclude that we don't know +anything about it. I don't, and that settles it so far as I'm concerned. +I can't accept man's opinion, for man doesn't know any more about it +than I do; so I say to myself, 'Gideon Batts, eat, drink and be merry, +for the first thing you know they will come along and lay you out where +the worm is whetting his appetite.' You have raked up quite a passle of +negroes, haven't you, colonel?" + +The priest looked at him, but not resentfully. "My work has not been +without a fair measure of success," he answered, now sitting upright and +motionless. "You must have noticed that we are building quite a large +church." + +"So I see," said the Major. "And you still believe that you are going to +preserve the negro's body as well as save his soul." + +"We are going to save his soul, and a soul that is to be saved serves to +protect its habitation." + +"But you foresee a race war?" + +"I foresee racial troubles, which in time may result in a war of +extermination." + +"I agree with you, Mr. Brennon," the Major replied. "As time passes it +will become more and more clear that the whites and the negroes cannot +live together. Their interests may be identical, but they are of a +different order and can never agree. And now let us face the truth. What +sowed the seeds of this coming strife? Emancipation? No, +enfranchisement. The other day Mr. Low gave me a copy of the London +Spectator, calling my attention to a thoughtful paper on this very +subject. It deeply impressed me, so much so that I read parts of it a +number of times. Let me see if I can recall one observation that struck +me. Yes, and it is this: 'We want a principle on which republicans can +work and we believe that the one which would be the most fruitful is +that the black people should be declared to be foreign immigrants, +guests of the state, entitled to the benefit of every law and every +privilege, education, for example, but debarred from political power and +from sitting on juries, which latter, indeed, in mixed cases, ought to +be superseded by properly qualified magistrates and judges.' The paper +goes on to show that this would not be oppressive, and that the blacks +would be in the position of a majority of Englishmen prior to 1832, a +position compatible with much happiness. But the trouble is we have gone +too far to retrace our steps. It was easy enough to grant suffrage to +the negro, but to take it away would be a difficult matter. So what are +we to do? To let the negro exercise the full and unrestrained measure of +his suffrage, would, in some communities, reduce the white man to the +position of political nonentity. And no law, no cry about the rights of +a down-trodden race, no sentiment expressed abroad, could force the +white man to submit quietly to this degradation. Upon the negro's head +the poetry of New England has placed a wreath of sentiment. No poet has +placed a wreath upon the brow of the California Chinaman, nor upon the +head of any foreign element in any of the northern states. Then why this +partiality? Is the negro so gentle that he must always be defended, and +is the white man of the south so hard of heart that he must always be +condemned?" + +"What you say is perfectly clear to me," the priest replied, "and it is +natural that you should defend your position." + +"It is the only position and the only course left to a thinking and a +self-respecting white man," the Major rejoined. + +"Yes, I will agree to that, too." + +"Ah, and that's the trouble, Mr. Brennon. You agree while you oppose." + +"My dear Major, I am not here to oppose, nor to destroy, but to save +fragments when the hour of destruction shall have come." + +"But if your church believes that it can save fragments why doesn't it +exert itself to save the whole?" + +"Major, salvation comes of persuasion and persuasion is slow." + +"Yes, and let me tell you that your form of religion will never become +popular among the negroes. The negro is emotional, and to make a display +of his religious agitation is too great a luxury to be given up. Your +creed entails too much belief and too little excitement; upon the layman +it doesn't confer sufficient importance. The negro must shout and hug. +The quiet mysticism of the divine spirit does not satisfy him. He wants +to be exorcised; he wants what is known as the mourners'-bench jerks. If +his brother loves him he doesn't want a quiet assurance of that fact, +conveyed by a year of conduct; he demands a noisy proof, the impulse of +a moment of joy." + +With a slow shake of his head old Gid confirmed this view, and the +priest looked on, gravely smiling. "You have now touched upon a mistaken +phase of the negro's character," said he. "And to make my point clear, I +must speak plainly with regard to the appearance of our form of worship. +I must present it as it impresses the ignorant and the superstitious. In +doing so I make myself appear almost irreverent, but in no other way can +I show you the possibilities of my work among the colored race. Mystery +appeals to the negro. Behind all mystery there is power. Under the +influence of the sensationalist the negro may shout, demand an impulsive +proof of love, hug his brother; but in his heart God is a fearful and +silent mystery. And the Catholic church shows him that the holy spirit +is without noise. In the creation of the great tree there has not been a +sound; all has been the noiseless will of God. It is not difficult to +show him that ours was the first church; it may be shown that the +Protestant Bible held him a slave; and above all we prove to him that in +the Catholic church there is no discrimination against his color, that a +negro may become a Cardinal. We convince him that shouting is but a +mental agitation and a physical excitement. I have know many a negro, on +the scaffold, to renounce the religion which for years he had +practiced, and with cool discernment embrace the parent church. The germ +of Catholicism is in his blood. He cannot be a free thinker. The +barbarian is subdued by the solemn and majestic form of the Church of +Rome, while he might regard with disdain the intricate reason of the +Presbyterian faith. And in this respect the negro is akin to the +barbarian. He is moved by music and impressed by ceremony." + +"You are plain-spoken, indeed," the Major replied. "The boldness with +which you recount your shams is most surprising. I didn't expect it." + +"I told you that I would be bold." + +"But you didn't say that you would acknowledge your insincerity." + +"Nor have I done so. I have simply shown you why our church appeals to +the superstitious blood of the African. To accomplish a good we must use +the directest means. If I were seeking to convert you, I should adopt a +different method. I would appeal to your reason; convince you of a truth +which the wisest men have known and still know--that the Catholic church +is God's church. It is now time for me to go," he added, after a short +pause. "Please tell your man that I want my horse." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +At the close of a misty day Jim Taylor stood at the parlor door to take +his leave of Mrs. Cranceford. During the slow hours of the afternoon +they had talked about Louise, or sitting in silence had thought of her; +and now at parting there was nothing to be added except the giant's +hopeful remark, "I believe we'll hear from her to-morrow; I am quite +sure of it." Repetition may make a sentiment trite, and into a slangish +phrase may turn a wise truism, but words spoken to encourage an anxious +heart do not lose their freshness. "Yes, I am quite sure of it," he +repeated. And the next day a letter came. It bore no post mark; the +captain of a steamboat had sent it over from a wood-yard. The boat was +an unimportant craft and its name was new even to the negroes at the +landing, which, indeed, must have argued that the vessel was making its +first trip on the Arkansas. The communication was brief, but it was +filled with expressions of love. "I am beginning to make my way," the +writer said, "and when I feel that I have completely succeeded, I will +come home. My ambition now is to surprise you, and to do this I must +keep myself in the dark just a little longer. I have tried to imagine +myself a friendless woman, such as I have often read about, and I +rather enjoy it. Love to Jim." + +The Major was in his office when the letter was brought, and thither his +wife hastened to read it to him. + +"What is it?" he asked as she entered the room. "A letter from Louise? I +don't want to hear it." + +"John." + +"I don't want to hear another crazy screed from her. Where is she? Is +she coming home? Read it." + +During the reading he listened with one hand cupped behind his +ear--though his hearing was not impaired--and when the last word had +been pronounced, he said: "Likes to be mysterious, doesn't she? Well, I +hope she'll get enough of it. If her life has been so much influenced by +sympathy why has she felt none of that noble quality for us? Where is +she?" + +"The letter doesn't say. It is not even dated, and it is not +post-marked." + +"Did it come in a gale? Was it blown out of a mysterious cloud?" + +"It came from the wood-yard, and the man who brought it said that it had +been left by the captain of the Mill-Boy, a new boat, they say." + +"Well, it's devilish----" + +"John." + +"I say it's very strange. Enjoys being mysterious. I wonder if she +equally enjoys having the neighbors talk about her? Sends love to Jim. +Well, that isn't so bad. You'd better have some one take the letter over +to him." + +"I sent him word by the man who brought the letter that we had heard +from her." + +No further did the Major question her, but taking up a handful of +accounts, he settled himself into the preoccupation in which she had +found him, but the moment she went out and closed the door, he got out +of his chair and with his hands behind him, walked up and down the room. +At the window he halted, and standing there, looked down the river, in +the direction of the cape of sand whereon Louise had stood, that day +when Pennington coughed in the library door; and in his mind the old man +saw her, with her hands clasped over her brown head. He mused over the +time that had passed since then, the marriage, the death, the dreary +funeral; and though he did not reproach himself, yet he felt that could +he but recall that day he would omit his foolish plea of gallantry. + +For the coming of Jim, Mrs. Cranceford had not long to wait. She was in +the parlor when he tapped at the door. After she had called, "Come in," +he continued to stand there as if he were afraid of meeting a +disappointment. But when he had peeped in and caught sight of her +smiling face, his cold fear was melted. + +"Here it is," she said, holding the letter out to him. Almost at one +stride he crossed the room and seized the letter. In the light of the +window he stood to read it, but it fluttered away from him the moment he +saw that there was a greeting in it for himself. He grabbed at it as if, +possessing life, it were trying to escape, and with a tight grip upon it +he said: "I knew she would write and I am sure she would have written +sooner if--if it had been necessary." + +Mrs. Cranceford was laughing tearfully. "Oh, you simple-hearted man, so +trustful and so big of soul, what is your love not worth to a woman?" + +"Simple-hearted? I am nothing of the sort. I try to be just and that's +all there is to it." + +"No, Jim Taylor, there's more to it than that. A man may be just and his +sense of justice may demand a stricter accounting than you ask for." + +"I guess you mean that I'm weak." + +"Oh, no," she hastened to reply, "I don't mean that. The truth is I mean +that you give something that but few men have ever given--a love blind +enough and great enough to pardon a misdeed committed against yourself. +It is a rare charity." + +He did not reply, but in the light of the window he stood, reading the +letter; and Mrs. Cranceford, sitting down, gave him the attention of a +motherly fondness, smiling upon him; and he, looking up from the letter +which a pleasurable excitement caused to shake in his hand, wondered +why any one should ever have charged this kindly matron with a cold lack +of sympathy. So interested in his affairs was she, so responsive to a +sentiment, though it might be clumsily spoken, so patient of his talk +and of his silence, that to him she was the Roman mother whom he had met +in making his way through a short-cut of Latin. + +"Jim." + +"Yes, ma'm." + +"I want to ask you something. Have you talked much with Tom lately?" + +"Not a great deal. He was over at my place the other night and we talked +of first one thing and then another, but I don't remember much of what +was said. Why do you want to know?" + +"Can't you guess?" + +"Don't know that I can. I was always rather slow at guessing. And don't +let me try; tell me what you mean?" + +"You are as stupid as you are noble." + +"What did you say, ma'm?" Again he had given his attention to the +letter. + +"Oh, nothing." + +"But you must have said something," he replied, pressing the letter into +narrow folds, and appearing as if he felt that he had committed a crime +in having failed to catch the meaning of her remark. + +"Oh, it amounted to nothing." + +He stupidly accepted this decree, and smoothing out the letter and +folding it again, requested that he might be permitted to take it home; +and with this reply she gladdened him: "I intended that you should." + +At evening old Gid came, with many a snort and many a noisy stamp at the +dogs prancing upon the porch. Into the library he bustled, puffing and +important, brisk with the air of business. "John," he said, as he sat +down, "the last bale of my cotton has been hauled to the landing. It +will be loaded to-night and to-morrow morning I'm going with it down to +New Orleans; and I gad, I'll demand the last possible cent, for it's the +finest staple I ever saw." + +"I thought you were going to bunch in and sell with me," the Major +replied. + +"I intended to, John, but you see I'm too far ahead of you to wait. I +don't like to discount my industry by waiting. The truth is, I want the +money as soon as I can get it. I am chafing to discharge my debts. It +may be noble to feel and acknowledge the obligations of friendship, but +the consciousness of being in debt, a monied debt, even to a friend, is +blunting to the higher sensibilities and hampering to the character. +Now, you've never been in debt, and therefore you don't know what +slavery is." + +"What! I've owed fifty thousand dollars at a time." + +"Yes, but you had a way of getting out from under it, John. We don't +deserve any credit for paying a debt if it comes easy, if it's natural +to us. Why, a man with the faculty of getting out from under a debt is +better off and is more to be envied than the man who has never known +what it is to walk under a weight of obligations, for to throw off the +burden brings him a day of real happiness, while the more prudent and +prosperous person is acquainted merely with contentment. You've had a +good time in your life, John. On many an occasion when other men would +have been at the end of the string you have reached back, grabbed up +your resources and enjoyed them. Yes, sir. And you have more education +than I have, but you can never hope to rival me in wisdom." + +The Major was standing on the hearth, and leaning his head back against +the mantel-piece, he laughed; and from Mrs. Cranceford's part of the +house came the impatient slam of a door. + +"It's a fact, John. And within me there is just enough of rascality to +sweeten my wisdom." + +"There is no doubt as to the rascality, Gid. The only question is with +regard to the wisdom." + +"Easy, John. The wisdom is sometimes hidden; modesty covers it up, and +if the rascality is always apparent it is my frankness that holds it up +to view. Yes, sir. But my wisdom lacks something, is in want of +something to direct it. Pure wisdom can't direct itself, John; it is +like gold--it must have an alloy. You've got that alloy, and it makes +you more successful as a man, but sometimes less charming as a +companion. The part of a man that means business is disagreeable to a +gentle, humor-loving nature like mine. I perceive that I've got my +speculative gear on, and I'm bold; yes, for I am soon to discharge a +sacred obligation and then to walk out under the trees a free man. But +I'm naturally bold. Did you ever notice that a sort of self-education +makes a man adventurous in his talk when a more systematic training +might hold him down with the clamps of too much care?" + +"Yes, might inflict him with the dullness of precision," the Major +suggested, smiling upon his guest. + +"That's it, and for this reason half-educated men are often the +brightest. I read a book--and I reckon I'm as fond of a good book as any +man--without bringing to bear any criticisms that scholars have passed +upon it. But with you it is different." + +"Gid, you ascribe scholarship to me when in fact you are far more +bookish than I am. You sit in your den all alone and read while I'm shut +up in my office going over my accounts. From care you have a freedom +that I can never hope to find." + +"John, in comparison with me you don't know what care is." + +The Major leaned against the mantel-piece and laughed. + +"It's a fact, John. Why, I have care enough to kill a statesman or +strain a philosopher. Look at me; I'm old and don't amount to anything, +and that is one of the heaviest cares that can settle down upon man. +Wise? Oh, yes, we'll grant that, but as I before remarked, my wisdom +lacks proper direction. It is like ill-directed energy, and that, you +know, counts for nothing. I once knew a fellow that expended enough +energy in epileptic fits to have made him a fortune. He'd fall down and +kick and paw the air--a regular engine of industry, but it was all +wasted. But he had a brother, a lazy fellow, and he conceived the idea +of a sort of gear for him, so that his jerkings and kicks operated a +patent churn. So, if I only had some ingenious fool to harness me I +might do something." + +"Why," said the Major, "I wouldn't have you otherwise than what you are. +Suppose you were to become what might be termed a useful citizen, +truthful and frugal----" + +"Hold on, John," Gid broke in, holding up his hands. "You distress me +with your picture. When I hear of a frugal man I always imagine he's +hungry. Yes, sir. But let me tell you, I'll be a man of affairs when I +come back from New Orleans. You may be assured of that. I'm going to +scatter money about this neighborhood. Why, every lout within ten miles +square, if he's got fifteen dollars, holds his opinion above mine. Ah, +by a lucky chance I see that your demijohn is in here. And now just fill +up this bottle," he added, producing a flask as if by a sleight-of-hand +trick, "and I will bid you good-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +A neighboring planter, having just returned from New Orleans, told the +Major that in the French market he had met Gid, who had informed him +that for his cotton he had received a premium above the highest price, +in recognition of its length of fibre and the care with which it had +been handled. The part of the statement that bore upon the length of +fibre was accepted by the Major, but he laughed at the idea that Gid's +care should call for reward. But so good a report was pleasing to him +and he told his wife that her denunciation of the old fellow must soon +be turned into praise. And with cool thoughtfulness she thus replied: +"John, is it possible that at this late day you are still permitting +that man to fill your eyes with dust? Has he again wheedled you into the +belief that he is going to pay you? It does seem to me that your good +sense ought to show you that man as he really is." + +They were at the dinner table. The Major shoved back his chair and +looked at his wife long and steadily. "Margaret," said he, "there is +such a thing as persecution, and you are threatened with a practice of +it. But do I believe he is going to pay me? I do. And naturally you want +to know my reason for thinking so." + +"Yes, I should like to know. I suppose your kindness rather than your +judgment has found a reason. It always does." + +"Good; and the reason which a kindness discovers, though the search for +it may be a mistake, is better than the spirit that inspires a +persecution. However, we won't indulge in any fine-drawn argument; we +will----" + +"Search for another reason when one is exploded," she suggested, +victoriously smiling upon him. + +"Oh, you mean that I really haven't found one. To tell you the truth I +haven't a very strong one. But in some way he has convinced me of his +sincerity. I have forced upon him the understanding that at least a good +part of the money must be paid, and the fact that he took me seriously, +forms, perhaps, the basis of my belief in his desire to face his +obligations. We shall see." + +Several days passed, but they saw nothing of Gid. It was known that he +was at home, for Jim Taylor had told the news of his return. At this +neglect the Major was fretted, and one morning he sent word to Gid that +he must come at once and give an account of himself. It was nearly noon +when the old fellow arrived. Clumsily he dismounted from his horse, and +meekly he made his way into the yard, tottering as he walked. He +appeared to have lost flesh, and his skin was yellow with worry and with +want of sleep. The Major came forward and they met and shook hands under +a tree. From an upper window Mrs. Cranceford looked upon them. + +"Gid, I didn't know what had become of you. I heard of you after you had +received for your cotton more than the market price, and----" + +"It was a fine shipment, John. Have you a rope handy? I want to hang +myself. And why? Because I don't expect anyone to believe my statement; +but John, as sure as I am alive this minute, my pocket was picked in the +French market. Hold on, now. I don't ask you to believe me, for I won't +be unreasonable, but I hope I may drop dead this moment if I wasn't +robbed. And that's the reason I have held back. Get the rope and I'll +hang myself. I don't want to live any longer. I am no account on the +face of the earth. I sang like a cricket when I might have been more in +earnest, and now when my condition is desperate, the fact that I have +been foolish and careless takes all weight from my words. As I came +along my old horse stumbled, and I didn't try to check him--I wanted him +to fall and kill me. Get me the rope." + +The Major took off his hat and leaned against the tree. With humility, +with drooping patience, Gid waited for him to speak, and his ear was +strained to catch the familiar word of hope, or mayhap the first bar of +a resounding laugh. The first words escaped him; he heard only their +cold tone without comprehending their meaning: + +"I want you to get off that place just as soon as you can; and I want +you to go as you came--with nothing. I have laughed at you while you +were cheating me; I have placed a premium upon your worthlessness and +rascality. There is no good in you. Get off that place just as soon as +you can." + +"John----" + +"Don't call me John. You are a hypocrite and a deadbeat. Yes, you have +sung like a cricket and I have paid dearly for your music. Don't say a +word to me; don't open your lying mouth, but get out of this yard as +soon as your wretched legs can carry you, and get off that place at +once." + +The Major turned his back upon him, and the old fellow tottered to the +gate. With an effort he scrambled upon his horse and was gone. He looked +back as if he expected to see a hand upraised, commanding him to stop; +he listened for a voice inviting him to return; but he saw no hand, +heard no voice, and onward down the road he went. In the highway he met +a man and the man spoke to him, but he replied not, neither did he lift +his heavy eyes, but rode onward, drooping over the horse's neck. He +passed the house of Wash Sanders, and from the porch the invalid hailed +him, but he paid no heed. + +Upon reaching home, or the cypress log house which for him had so long +been a free and easy asylum, he feebly called a negro to take his horse. +Into the house he went, into the only habitable room. It was at best a +desolate abode; the walls were bare, the floor was rotting, but about +him he cast a look of helpless affection, at the bed, at a shelf whereon +a few books were piled. He opened a closet and took therefrom a faded +carpet-bag and into it he put Rousseau's Confessions, then an old book +on logic, and then he hesitated and looked up at the shelf. All were +dear to him, these thumbed and dingy books; many a time at midnight had +they supped with him beside the fire of muttering white-oak coals, and +out into the wild bluster of a storm had they driven care and +loneliness. But he could not take them all. Painfully he made his +selections, nearly filled his bag, leaving barely room for an old satin +waistcoat and two shirts; and these he stuffed in hastily. He put the +bag upon the bed, when with fumbling he had fastened it, and stood +looking about the room. Yes, that was all, all except a hickory walking +cane standing in a corner. + +Onward again he went with his cane on his shoulder and his bag on his +back. At the bars down the lane a dog ran up to him. "Go to the house, +Jack," he said, and the dog understood him and trotted away, but in the +old man's voice he heard a suspicious note and he turned before reaching +the house and followed slowly and cautiously, stopping whenever the old +fellow turned to look back. At the corner of a field Gid halted and put +down his bag, and the dog turned about, pretending to be on his way +home. In the field was a pecan tree, tall and graceful. Year after year +had the old man tended it, and to him it was more than a tree, it was a +friend. Upon the fence he climbed, sitting for a moment on the top rail +to look about him; to the tree he went, and putting his arms about it, +pressed his wrinkled cheek against its bark. He turned away, climbed the +fence, took up his bag and resumed his journey toward the steamboat +landing. Far behind, on a rise in the road, the dog sat, watching him. +The old man turned a bend in the road, and the dog, running until his +master was again in sight, sat down to gaze after him. Far ahead was the +charred skeleton of a gin house, burned by marauders many years ago, and +here he was to turn into the road that led to the landing. He looked up +as he drew near and saw a horse standing beside the road; and then from +behind the black ruin stepped a man--the Major. + +"Gid," he said, coming forward, "I believe we're going to have more +rain." + +The old man dropped his bag, and the dog far down the road turned back. +"Wind's from the northwest, Gid." He put his hand on the old fellow's +shoulder. + +"Don't touch me, John; let me go." + +"Why, I can't let you go. Look here, old man, you have stood by me more +than once--you stood when other men ran away--and you are more to me +than money is." + +"Let me go, John. I am an old liar and an old hypercrite. My pocket was +not picked--I lost the money gambling. Let me go; I am a scoundrel." + +He stooped to take up his bag, but the Major seized it. "I'll carry it +for you," he said. "Too heavy for as old a man as you are. Come on back +and raise another crop." + +"I haven't a thing to go on, John. Can't even get feed for the mules. +Give me the satchel." + +"You shall have all the feed you want." + +"But your wife----" + +"I will tell her that the debt is paid." + +"John, your gospel would take the taint out of a thief on a cross. And I +was never so much of a man as you now make me, and, I gad, I'm going to +be worthy of your friendship. Let me remind you of something: That old +uncle of mine in Kentucky will leave me his money. It's cold-blooded to +say it, but I understand that he can't live but a short time. I am his +only relative, and have a hold on him that he can't very well shake off. +He'll beat me out of my own as long as he can, but old Miz Nature's got +her eye on him. Yes, I'll try it again and next year I'll let you sell +the crop. But say, John, at one time I had them fellows on the hip, and +if I had cashed in at the right time I would have hit 'em big. Get your +horse and we'll hook the satchel over the horn of the saddle." + +Along the road they walked toward home, the Major leading the horse. For +a time they were silent, and then the Major said: "As I came along I was +thinking of that bully from Natchez. He would have killed me with his +Derringer if you hadn't broken his arm with your cane." + +"Oh, yes; that red-headed fellow. It has been a long time since I +thought of him. How the pleasant acquaintances of our younger days do +slip away from us." + +"Yes," the Major laughed, "and our friends fall back as we grow old. +Friendship is more a matter of temperament than----" + +"Of the honesty of the other party," Gid suggested. + +"Yes, you are right. Honesty doesn't always inspire friendship, for we +must be interested in a man before we can become his friend; and mere +honesty is often a bore." + +When they reached the gate that opened into Gid's yard, the Major shook +hands with the old fellow and told him to resume his authority as if +nothing had happened to interrupt it. + +"I will, John; but something has happened to interrupt it, and that +interruption has been my second birth, so to speak. I passed away at +twelve o'clock and was born again just now. I won't try to express my +feelings, I am still so young; for any profession of gratitude would be +idle in comparison with what I am going to do. I've got your friendship +and I'm going to have your respect. Come in and sit awhile, won't you?" + +"Not now, but I'll come over to-night." + +"Good. And remember this, John; I'm going to have your respect." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +With a generous and perhaps weak falsehood the Major sought to assure +his wife that Gid had paid a part of his debt, and that a complete +settlement was not far off, but with a cool smile she looked at him and +replied: "John, please don't tax your conscience any further. It's too +great a strain on you. Let the matter drop. I won't even say I told you +so." + +"And as much as you might want the subject to be dropped you can't let +it fall without reminding me--but we will let it drop; we'll throw it +down. But you have your rights, Margaret, and they shall be respected. I +will tell him that out of respect to you he must stay away from here." + +"That is very thoughtful, dear; but does it occur to you that your +continued intimacy with him, whether he comes here or not, will show a +want of respect for me?" + +"You don't give a snap whether he pays his debts or not. You simply +don't want me to associate with him. No, it has not occurred to me that +I am not showing you proper respect and neither is it true. Margaret, do +you know what is the most absurd and insupportable tyranny that woman +can put upon man? It is to choose a companion for her husband." + +"With me, dear, it is not tyranny; it is judgment." + +"Oh, yes; or rather, it is the wonderful intuition which we are taught +to believe that woman possesses. I admit that she is quick to see evil +in a man, but she shuts her eyes to the good quality that stands +opposite to offset it." + +"Oh, I know that I haven't shrewdness enough to discover a good trait; I +can recognize only the bad, for they are always clearly in view. It is a +wonder that you can respect so stupid a creature as I am, and I know +that you have ceased to have a deeper feeling for me." + +"Now, Margaret, for gracious sake don't talk that way. Oh, of course +you've got me now, and I have to flop or be a brute. Yes, you've got me. +You know I respect your good sense and love you, so what's the use of +this wrangle. There, now, it's all right. I'll promise not to go near +him if you say so. And I have made up my mind to attend church with more +regularity. I acknowledge that I can go wrong oftener than almost any +man. Respect for you!" he suddenly broke out. "Why, you are the smartest +woman in this state, and everybody knows it. Come on out to the office +and sit with me." + +Sometimes the Major, with a pretense of having business to call him away +at night, would go over to old Gid's house, and together they would +chuckle by the fire or nod over roasting potatoes. They talked of their +days on the river, and of their nights at Natchez under the hill. To be +wholly respectable, a man must give up many an enjoyment, but when at +last he has become virtuous, he fondly recounts the escapades of former +years; and thus the memory of hot blood quickens the feeble pulse of +age. + +Sometimes old Gid would meet the Major at the gin house and joke with +him amid the dust and lint, but he always came and departed in a +roundabout way, so that Mrs. Cranceford, sitting at the window, might +not be offended by his horse and his figure in the road. A time came +when there was an interval of a week, and the old fellow had not shown +himself at the gin house, and one night the Major went to the cypress +log home to invade his retirement, but the place was dark. He pushed +open the door and lighted the lamp. The fireplace was cheerless with +cold ashes. He went to a cabin and made inquiry of a negro, and was told +that Mr. Batts had been gone more than a week, and that he had left no +word as to when he intended to return. Greatly worried, the Major went +home; wide awake he pondered during long hours in bed, but no light fell +upon the mystery of the old man's absence; nor in the night nor at +breakfast did the Major speak of it to his wife, but silently he took +his worry with him to his office. One morning while the planter was at +his desk, there came a storming at the dogs in the yard. + +"Get down, boys. Don't put your muddy paws on me. Hi, there, Bill, you +seven years' itch of a scoundrel, take my horse to the stable." + +The Major threw open the door. "Don't come out, John!" Gid shouted, +coming forward among the prancing dogs. "Don't come out, for I want to +see you in there." + +He appeared to have gained flesh; his cheeks were ruddy, and his grasp +was strong as he seized the Major's hand. "How are you, John?" + +"Why, old man, where on earth have you been?" + +"I have been in the swamp for many years, but now I touch the ground +only in high places." + +He boldly stepped into the office, and as he sat down the sweep of his +coat-tails brushed chattel mortgages and bills of sale from the desk. +"Only in high places do my feet touch the ground, John. I have just +returned from Kentucky. And I bring the news that my old uncle is no +more to this life, but is more to me than ever." + +"And you were summoned to his bedside," said the Major, striving to be +serious, but smiling upon him. + +"Not exactly. You might say that I was summoned by a lawyer to his +chest-side. He left me no word of affection, but his money is mine, and +on many a half-dollar of it I warrant you there is the print of his +tooth. Give me your check-book, John." + +"Wait a while, Gid. Let us accustom ourselves to the situation." + +"No; let us get down to business. I am impatient to pay a mildewed debt. +God's love was slow, John, but it came. How much do I owe?" + +"I don't believe I'd pay it all at once, Gid. Leave a part to be met by +the next crop." + +"All right; but it's yours at any time. The only way I can use money is +to get rid of it as soon as possible. Make out a check for two-thirds of +the amount and I'll put my strong hand to it. But you haven't +congratulated me." + +"No," the Major replied, with a drawl, "for I felt that it would have +too much the appearance of my own greed. I have hounded you--" The old +fellow seized him, and stopped his utterance. "Don't say that, John. You +have kept me out of hell and you ought to complete my heaven with a +congratulation." + +They shook hands, looking not into each other's eyes, but downward; the +Major pretended to laugh, and old Gid, dropping his hand, blustered +about the room, whistled and stormed at a dog that poked his head in at +the door. Then he sat down, crossed his legs; but finding this +uncomfortable, sprawled himself into an easier position and began to +moralize upon the life and character of his uncle. "He always called me +a fool with an uproarious fancy, an idiot with wit, and a wise man +lacking in sense. He denied himself everything, and it strikes me that +he must have been the fool. I wish he had gathered spoil enough to make +me rich, but I reckon he did the best he could, and I forgive him. We +must respect the dead, and sometimes the sooner they are dead the sooner +we respect them. Let me sign that thing. Oh, he hasn't left me so much, +but I won't quarrel with him now. What was it the moralist said?" he +asked, pressing a blotting pad upon his name. "Said something about we +must educate or we must perish. That's all right, but I say we must have +money. Without money you may be honest," he went on, handing the check +to the Major, "but your honesty doesn't show to advantage. Money makes a +man appear honorable whether he is or not. It gives him courage, and +nothing is more honorable than courage. The fact that a man pays a debt +doesn't always argue that he's honest--it more often argues that he's +got money. Accident may make a man honest just as it may make him a +thief." + +"Your log fire and your old books haven't done you any harm, Gid." + +"They have saved my life, John. And let me tell you, that a man who +grows gray without loving some old book is worse than a fool. The +quaint thought of an old thinker is a cordial to aged men who come after +him. I used to regret that I had not been better educated, but now I'm +glad that my learning is not broader--it might give me too many +loves--might make me a book polygamist. I have wondered why any +university man can't sit down and write a thing to startle the world; +but the old world herself is learned, and what she demands is +originality. We may learn how to express thought, John, but after all, +thought itself must be born in us. There, I have discharged an +obligation and delivered a moral lecture, and I want to tell you that +you are the best man I ever saw." + +"Now you are talking nonsense, Gid. Why, you have been just as necessary +to me as I have to you. In a manner you have been the completion of +myself." + +"Ah," Gid cried, scuffling to his feet and bowing, "I have the pleasure +of saluting Mrs. Cranceford. Some time has passed since I saw you, +ma'am, and I hope you will pardon my absence." + +The Major sprawled himself back with a laugh. Mrs. Cranceford, standing +on the door sill, gave Gid a cool stare. + +"Won't you please come in?" he asked, courteously waving his hand over +the chair which he had just quitted. + +"No, I thank you." + +"Ah, I see you are surprised to see me in here. There was a time when it +would have strained my boldness, but now it is a pleasure. I am here on +business. To me business is a sweet morsel, and I delight myself with +rolling it under my tongue. Ma'am, I have just signed a check. My dear +old uncle, one of the most humane and charming of men, has been cruelly +snatched from this life; and as he found it impossible to take his money +with him, he left it to me." + +"I hope you will make good use of it," she replied, with never a +softening toward him. + +"I am beginning well," he rejoined, surprised that she did not give him +a kindlier look. "I am discharging my obligations, and before night I'll +call on the rector and give him a check." + +She smiled, but whether in doubt as to his sincerity or in commendation +of his purpose he could not determine. But he took encouragement. "Yes, +ma'am, and as I have now become a man of some importance, I am going to +act accordingly. I am free to confess that my first endeavor shall be to +gain your good opinion." + +"And I'll freely give it, Mr. Batts, when I believe you merit it." + +"To desire it, ma'am, is of itself a merit." + +She laughed at this, and the Major laughed, too, for he saw that no +longer should he be compelled to defend his fondness for the old +fellow. + +"I am more than willing to confess my mountain of faults," Gid went on, +smiling, and his smile was not disagreeable. "I am more than willing to +do this, and when I have--and which I now do--your Christian heart must +forgive me." + +She laughed and held out her hand, and with a gallantry that would have +been reminiscent, even in old Virginia, he touched it with his lips. + +"Come here, Margaret," said the Major, and when she turned toward him, +smiling, he put his arms about her, pressed her to his breast and fondly +kissed her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Mrs. Cranceford's surrender was not as complete as Gid's fancy had +fore-pictured it; he had expected to see her bundle of prejudices thrown +down like Christian's load; and therefore the dignity with which she +looked upon the establishment of his honor was a disappointment to him, +but she invited him to stay for dinner, and this argued that her reserve +could not much longer maintain itself. With pleasure he recalled that +she had given him her hand, but in this he feared that there was more of +haughtiness than of generosity. And at the table, and later in the +library, he was made to feel that after all she had accepted him merely +on probation; still, her treatment of him was so different from what it +had been, that he took the courage to build up a hope that he might at +last subdue her. To what was passing the Major was humorously alive, +and, too keenly tickled to sit still, he walked up and down the room, +slyly shaking himself. Mrs. Cranceford asked Gid if he had read the book +which she had loaned him, the "Prince of the House of David," and he +answered that when at last he had fallen asleep the night before, the +precious volume had dropped beside his pillow. There were some books +which he read while sitting by the fire, and some whose stirring +qualities moved him to walk about as he gulped their contents; but with +a godly book he must lay himself down so that he might be more receptive +of its soothing influence. Then he reviewed the book in question, and +did it shrewdly. With the Jewish maiden and the Roman centurion going to +see the strange man perform the novel rite of baptism in the river of +Jordan, he looked back upon the city of Jerusalem; and further along he +pointed out Judas, plodding the dusty road--squat, sullen, and with a +sneer at the marvel he was destined to see. + +"I believe you have read it," the Major spoke up, still slyly shaking +himself. + +"Read it! Why, John, I have eaten it. I gad, sir--Pardon me, ma'am." +With a nod she pronounced her forgiveness. The slip was but a pretense, +foisted to change the talk to suit his purpose. "Ah," said he, "I have +not yet weeded out all my idle words, and it grieves me when I am +surprised by the recurrence of one which must be detestable; but, ma'am, +I try hard, and there is always merit in a sincere trial." + +"Yes, in a sincere trial," she agreed. + +"Yes, ma'am; and--now there's John laughing at me fit to kill himself; +and bless me, ma'am, you are laughing, too. Am I never to be taken +seriously? Are you thus to titter true reformation out of countenance? +But I like it. But we are never tired of a man so long as we can laugh +at him; we may cry ourselves to sleep, but who laughs himself to +slumber? Ma'am, are you going to leave us?" he asked, seeing that Mrs. +Cranceford was on her feet. "But of course you have duties to look +after, even though you might not be glad to escape an old man's gabble. +I _call_ it gabble, but I know it to be wisdom. But I beg pardon for +seeming vanity." + +A dignified smile was the only reply she made, but in the smile was +legible the progress his efforts were making. + +"John," he said, when she was gone, "that sort of a woman would have +made a man of me." + +"But perhaps that sort of a woman wouldn't have undertaken the job," the +Major replied. + +"Slow, John; but I guess you're right." + +"I think so. Women may be persistent, but they are generally quick to +recognize the impossible." + +"Easy. But again I guess you're right. I gad, when the teachings of a +man's mother leave him unfinished there isn't a great deal of +encouragement for the wife. A man looks upon his wife as a part of +himself, and a man will lie even to himself, John." + +"By the way," the Major asked, sitting down, "have you seen that fellow +Mayo since he came back?" + +"Yes; I met him in the road once, but had no words with him." + +"It would hardly do for me to have words with him," the Major replied; +and after a moment of musing he added: "I understand that he's +organizing the negroes, and that's the first step toward trouble. The +negro has learned to withdraw his faith from the politician, but labor +organization is a new thing to him, and he will believe in it until the +bubble bursts. That fellow is a shrewd scoundrel and there's no telling +what harm he may not project." + +"Then why not hang him before he has time to launch his trouble? There's +always a way to keep the cat from scratching you. Shoot the cat." + +"No," said the Major, "that won't do. It would put us at a +disadvantage." + +"Yes; but I gad, our disadvantage wouldn't be as great as his. Nobody +would be willing to swap places with a man that's hanged." + +"That's all very well, but we would be the aggressors, and distant eyes +would look upon him as a martyr." + +"Yes, I know; but isn't it better to have one man looked on as a martyr +than to have a whole community bathed in blood?" + +"It might be better for us, but not for our children. A blood-bath may +be forgotten, but martyrdom lives in the minds of succeeding +generations." + +"John, there spoke the man of business. You are always looking out for +the future. I have agreed with myself to make the most of the present, +and so far as the future is concerned, it will have to look out for +itself--it always has. Was there ever a future that was not prepared to +take care of itself? And is there a past that can be helped? Then let us +fasten our minds to the present. Let me see. I wonder if we couldn't +train a steer to gore that fellow to death. And I gad, that would do +away with all possibility of martyrdom. What do you say?" + +"Nothing more on that subject; but I can say something concerning +another matter, and it will interest you more than the martyrdom of all +history." + +"Then out with it. I demand to be interested. But don't trifle with me, +John. Remember that an old man's hide is thin." + +"I'll not trifle with you; I'll startle you. Sixty years ago, the +grandfather of Admiral Semmes made whisky in the Tennessee Mountains." + +"But, John, that was a long time ago, and the old man is dead, and here +we are alive. But he made whisky sixty years ago. What about it?" + +"The brother of the admiral lives in Memphis," the Major continued, +"and the other day he sent me a bottle of that whisky, run through a log +before you were born." + +Gid's mouth flew open and his eyes stuck out. "John," he said, and the +restraint he put upon his voice rippled it, "John, don't tamper with the +affections of an old and infirm man. Drive me off the bayou plantation, +compel me to acknowledge and to feel that I am a hypercrite and a liar, +but don't whet a sentiment and then cut my throat with it. Be merciful +unto a sinner who worships the past." + +He sat there looking upward, a figure of distress, fearing the arrival +of despair. The Major laughed at him. "Don't knock me down with a stick +of spice-wood, John." + +The Major went to a sideboard, took therefrom a quaint bottle and two +thin glasses, and placing them upon a round table, bowed to the bottle +and said: "Dew of an ancient mountain, your servant, sir." And old Gid, +with his mouth solemnly set, but with his eyes still bulging, arose, +folded his arms, bowed with deep reverence, and thus paid his respects: +"Sunshine, gathered from the slopes of long ago, your slave." + +Mrs. Cranceford stepped in to look for something, and the play +improvised by these two old boys was broken short off. The Major sat +down, but Gid edged up nearer the table as if preparing to snatch the +bottle. Upon the odd-shaped flask she cast a look of passing interest, +and speaking to the Major she said: + +"Oh, that's the whisky you got from Memphis. Don't drink it all, please. +I want to fill up the camphor bottle----" + +Gid sat down with a jolt that jarred the windows, and she looked at him +in alarm, fearing at the instant that death must have aimed a blow at +him. "Camphor bottle!" he gasped. "Merciful heavens, ma'am,' fill up +your camphor bottle with my heart's blood!" + +At this distress the Major laughed, though more in sympathy than in +mirth; and Mrs. Cranceford simply smiled as if with loathness she +recognized that there was cause for merriment, but when she had quitted +the room and gone to her own apartment, she sat down, and with the +picture in her mind, laughed in mischievous delight. + +"Help yourself," said the Major. Gid had spread his hands over the +whisky as if to warm them in this liquidized soul of the past. + +"Pour it out for me, John. And I will turn my back so as not to see how +much you pour." + +"Go ahead," the Major insisted. + +"But I am shaken with that suggested profanation, that camphor bottle, +and I'm afraid that I might spill a drop. But wait. I am also bold and +will attempt it. Gods, look at that--a shredded sunbeam." + +"Don't be afraid of it." + +"I was waiting for you to say that, John. But it is reverence, and not +fear. That I should have lived to see this day is a miracle. Shall I +pour yours? There you are." + +They stood facing each other. With one hand Gid held high his glass, and +with the other hand he pressed his heart. Their glasses clinked, and +then they touched the liquor with their lips, sipped it, and Gid +stretched his neck like a chicken. To have spoken, to have smacked his +mouth, would have been profane. There is true reverence in nothing save +silence, and in silence they stood. Gid was the first to speak, not that +he had less reverence, but that he had more to say and felt, therefore, +that he must begin earlier. "Like the old man of Israel, I am now ready +to die," he said, as he put down his glass. + +"Not until you have had another drink," suggested the Major. + +"A further evidence, John, of your cool judgment. You are a remarkable +man. Most anyone can support a sorrow, but you can restrain a joy, and +in that is shown man's completest victory over self. No, I am not quite +ready to die. But I believe that if a drop of this liquor, this +saint-essence, had been poured into a camphor bottle, I should have +dropped dead, that's all, and Peter himself would have complimented me +upon the exquisite sensitiveness of my organization. Pour me just about +two fingers--or three. That's it. If the commander of the Alabama had +taken a few drinks of his grandfather's nectar, the Confederacy would +have wanted a blockade runner." + +"You don't mean to say that it would have softened his nerve, do you?" + +"Oh, no; but his heart, attuned to sweet melody, would have turned from +frowning guns to a beautiful nook in some river's bend, there to sing +among flowers dripping with honey-dew. I gad, this would make an old man +young before it could make him drunk." + +The Major brought two pipes and an earthen jar of tobacco; and with the +smoke came musings and with the liquor came fanciful conceits. To them +it was a pride that they could drink without drunkenness; in moderation +was a continuous pleasure. When Gid arose to go, he took an oath that +never had he passed so delightful a time. The Major pressed him to stay +to supper. "Oh, no, John," he replied; "supper would spoil my spiritual +flow. And besides, I am expecting visitors to-night." + +He hummed a tune as he cantered down the road; and the Major in his +library hummed the same tune as he stretched out his feet to the fire. + +As Gid was passing the house of Wash Sanders, the endless invalid came +out upon the porch and called him: + +"Won't you 'light?" + +"No, don't believe I've got time," Gid answered, slacking the pace of +his horse. "How are you getting along?" + +"Not at all. Got no relish for victuals. Don't eat enough to keep a +chicken alive. Can't stand it much longer." + +"Want to bet on it?" Gid cried. + +"What's that?" + +"I say I'm sorry to hear it." + +"Glad to know that somebody sympathizes with me. Well, drop in some time +and we'll take a chaw of tobacco and spit the fire out." + +Nothing could have been more expressive of a welcome to Wash's house. To +invite a man to sit until the fire was extinguished with the overflow of +the quid was with him the topknot of courtesy. + +"All right," Gid shouted back; and then to himself he said: "If I was +sure that a drink of that old whisky would thrill him to death I'd steal +it for him, but I'd have to be sure; I'd take no chances." + +A horse came galloping up behind him. Dusk was falling and the old man +did not at once recognize Mayo, the labor organizer of the negroes. But +he knew the voice when the fellow spoke: "What's the weather about to +do?" + +"About to quit, I reckon," Gid answered. + +"Quit what?" + +"Quit whatever it's doing." + +"Pretty smart as you go along, ain't you?" + +"Yes, and when I stop, too." + +"Strains you to answer a civil question, I see." + +The old man turned in his saddle and jogged along facing the fellow, and +some distance was covered before either of them spoke. "Are you trying +to raise a row with me?" Gid asked. "I want to know for if you are I can +save you a good deal of time and trouble." + +"Sort of a time-saver," said Mayo. + +"Yes, when I'm not a recruiter for eternity." + +"I don't believe I follow you." + +"Wish you would, or ride on ahead. Now look here," he added, "I just +about know you when I see you, and as I don't make friends half as fast +as I do enemies--in other words, as I am able to grasp a man's bad +points quicker than I can catch his good ones--I would advise you not to +experiment with me. You haven't come back here for the benefit of the +community, and if we were not the most easy-going people in the world, +we'd hang you and then speculate leisurely as to what might have been +your aim in coming here." + +Mayo grunted. He was a tall, big, stoop-shouldered fellow. He rode with +his knees drawn up. He had a sort of "ducking" head, and his chin was +long and pointed. He grunted and replied: "I guess this is a free +country or at least it ought to be." + +"Yes," Gid rejoined, still facing him, "but it won't be altogether free +for such as you until the penitentiaries are abolished." + +"Oh, I understand you, Mr. Batts. You are trying to work up a chance to +kill me." + +"Good guess; and you are trying to help me along." + +"But I want to tell you that if you were to kill me you wouldn't live to +tell the tale. I don't want any trouble with you. I'm not here to have +trouble unless it's shoved on me. I am going to do one thing, however, +trouble or no trouble; I am going to demand that the colored people +shall have their rights." + +"And at the same time I suppose you are going to demand that the white +man shall not have his." + +"No, won't demand that he shan't have his rights, but that he shan't +have his way." + +"Not have his way with his own affairs? Good. And now let me tell you +something. Want to hear it?" + +"I'm not aching to hear it." + +"Well, I'll give it to you anyway. It's this: The first thing you know a +committee of gentlemen will call on you and offer you the opportunity to +make a few remarks, and after you have made them you will thereafter +decline all invitations to speak. At the end of a rope the most +talkative man finds a thousand years of silence. Long time for a man to +hush, eh? Well, our roads split here." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because I turn to the right." + +"But may be my business calls me over that way." + +"Don't know about that, but I'm going to turn into this lane and I don't +want you to come with me. Do you hear?" + +Mayo did not answer. Gid turned into a road leading to the right, and +looking back he saw that Mayo was riding straight ahead. "At any rate he +ain't afraid to say what he thinks," the old man mused. "Got more nerve +than I thought he had, and although it may make him more dangerous, yet +it entitles him to more respect." + +His horse's hoof struck into a patch of leaves, heaped beneath a +cottonwood, and from the rustling his ears, warmed by the old liquor, +caught the first bars of a tune he had known in his youth; and lifting +high his voice he sang it over and over again. He passed a negro cabin +whence often had proceeded at night the penetrating cry of a fiddle, and +it was night now but no fiddle sent forth its whine. A dog shoved open +the door, and by the fire light within the old man saw a negro sitting +with a gun across his lap, and beside him stood two boys, looking with +rapture upon their father's weapon. Throughout the neighborhood had +spread a report that the negroes were meeting at night to drill, and +this glance through a door gave life to what had been a shadow. + +He rode on, and his horse's hoof struck into another patch of leaves, +but no tune arose from the rustle. The old man was thinking. In a field +of furrowed clouds the moon was struggling, and down the sandy road fell +light and darkness in alternating patches. Far away he saw a figure +stepping from light into darkness and back again into light. Into the +deep shadow of a vine-entangled tree he turned his horse, and here he +waited until he heard footsteps crunching in the sand, until he saw a +man in the light that lay for a moment in the road, and then he cried: + +"Hello, there, Jim Taylor!" + +"Is that you, Uncle Gideon?" + +"Yes, Gideon's band of one. Come over here a moment." + +"I will as soon as I can find you. What are you doing hiding out in the +dark? The grand jury ain't in session." + +"No, I gad, but something else is," he replied. + +Jim came forward and put his hand on the horn of the old man's saddle, +which as an expert he did in spite of the shying of the horse; and then +he asked: "Well, what is it, Uncle Gideon?" + +"You've heard the rumor that the negroes are drilling at night." + +"Yes, what of it?" + +"It's a fact, that's what there is of it. Just now I rode quite a ways +with Mayo and he was inclined to be pretty sassy; and right back there I +looked into Gabe Little's cabin and saw him with a gun across his lap." + +"Well, what of that? Haven't the negroes had guns ever since the war, +and hasn't a man got the right to sit with his gun across his lap? Uncle +Gideon, I'm afraid you've been putting too much new wine into an old +bottle." + +"Soft, Jimmie; it was old liquor, sixty years at least. But I gad, it +strikes me that you are pretty glib to-night. You must have heard +something." + +"No, not since Mrs. Cranceford got the letter, but that was enough to +last me a good while." + +"Didn't hear about my bereavement, did you?" + +"What, you bereaved, Uncle Gideon? How did it happen?" + +"At the imperious beck and call of nature, Jimmie. My uncle died and +inflicted on me money enough to make a pretense of paying my debts, and +I've made such a stagger that even Mrs. Cranceford has admitted me into +the out-lying districts of her good opinion. But that's got nothing to +do with the business in hand. Let's go back yonder and find out why +that negro sits there suckling his gun to sleep." + +"But if he suckles it to sleep there's no harm in it, Uncle Gideon." + +"Ah, clod-head, but it may have bad dreams and wake up with a cry. Let's +go back there." + +"Are you in earnest?" + +"As earnest as a last will and testament." + +"Then let me tell you that I'll do nothing of the sort. You don't catch +me prowling about a man's house at night, and you wouldn't think of such +a thing if you were strictly sober." + +"Jimmie, you never saw me drunk." + +"No, but I've seen you soberer that you are now." + +"An unworthy insinuation, Jimmie. But having great respect for your +plodding judgment, I will not go to the negro's cabin, but will proceed +rather to my own shanty. And I want you to come with me. Tom Cranceford +and Sallie Pruitt will be there and in the shine of the fire we'll cut +many a scollop. What do you say?" + +"Uncle Gideon, don't you know how strongly opposed Mrs. Cranceford is to +Tom's----" + +"Bah, law-abiding calf. They are going to marry anyway, so what's the +difference? Jimmie, the most useless man in the world is the fellow that +keeps just within the law. But perhaps it isn't your law-abiding spirit +so much as it is your fear. In blind and stupid obedience there is a +certain sort of gallantry, and in trotting to Mrs. Cranceford's cluck +you may be wise." + +"It's not that I'm afraid of offending her," the giant said. "The girl +is too good for Tom any day, or for any of us when it comes to that, but +the distress of his mother haunts me, and I don't want that girl's +affection for Tom to haunt me too. I don't want to see them together if +I can help it. One haunt at a time is enough. But I tell you this, if it +should come to a question I would decide in favor of the girl." + +"Jimmie, you are improving. Yes, I am doing you great good. I found your +mind an insipid dish and I have sprinkled it with salt and pepper. You +are right. Always decide in favor of the young, for the old have already +had their disappointments. Well, I'll go. Lift your paw. My horse can't +move out from under its weight." + +"All right," said the giant, laughing and stepping back. "By the way," +he added, "tell Tom to be sure and meet me at the landing at two o'clock +to-morrow. We are going down to New Orleans." + +"What, alone? I ought to go along to take care of you. I could steer you +away from all the bad places and by this means you would naturally +stumble on the good ones. I'll see you when you get back." + +At home the old man had lighted his fire and was listening to its +cheerful crackle when his visitors came, laughing. With a boisterous +shout Tom kicked the door open, and when the girl remonstrated with him, +he grabbed her and kissed her. + +"That's all right," old Gid cried. "One of these days the penitentiary +doors will open for you without being kicked in. Ah, delightful to see +you, my dear," he said, bowing to the girl; "refreshing to see you, +although you come with a scamp. Sit down over there. I gad, you are a +bit of sunshine that has lost its way in the night." + +About her head she had wound a scarf of red yarn, and as she stood +taking it off, with the fire-light dancing among the kinks of her +flax-like hair, the old man stepped forward to help her. + +"Hands off," said Tom. "Don't touch her." + +"Wolfish protector of a lamb," the old man replied, "I ought to throw +you out; but it is not my mission to cast out devils." + +The girl sat down on a bench and Tom took a seat beside her; and with +many a giggle and a "quit that, now," they picked at each other. Old +Gid, in his splint-bottomed chair, leaned back against the wall and +feasted his eyes upon their antics. "Kittens," said he, "I will get you +a string and a button. Ah, Lord, I was once a delicious idiot." + +"And you've simply lost your deliciousness," Tom replied. + +"Ah, and in its place took up age. But with it came wisdom, Thomas." + +"But didn't it come too late?" + +"The wise utterance of a foolish youth," said the old man. "Yes, Thomas, +it came too late. Wisdom is not of much use to an old codger. He can't +profit by it himself and nobody wants his advice. Did I ever tell you +about the girl I loved? Ah, she was glorious. June was in her mouth and +October fell out of her hair." + +"And you didn't marry her because she was poor, eh?" + +"No, but because she was rich, Jimmie. She wanted me not; and she +married a wealthy fool and the imbecile made her happy. I could almost +forgive her for not loving me, for I was a mate on a steamboat, but to +let that fool make her happy--it was too much and I cast her out of my +mind. But when is your wedding to take place? In the sweet light of a +distant moon or within the sunshine of a few days?" + +"Hanged if I know." + +"Tom!" cried the girl, putting her hands over his mouth, "that's no way +to talk." + +"I said it to make you do that," he replied, his voice latticed by her +fingers and sounding afar off. He took her hands and pressed them to his +cheek. + +"A pretty picture, and I'll long remember you as you now sit on that +bench," said the old man. "Sallie, how old are you?" he asked. + +"I don't know, sir. Pap and mother couldn't put it down 'cause they +didn't know how to figger, and when I got so I could figger a little +they had dun forgot the year and the day of the month. Most of the time +when I'm by myself I feel old enough, but sometimes Uncle Wash calls me +foolish and then I'm awful young. But Aunt Martha never calls me foolish +'cause I help her in the kitchen." + +There came a scratching at the threshold. The old man got out of his +tilted chair and opened the door, and a dog, prancing in, lay down in +front of the fire, with his nose between his outstretched paws. + +"What a pretty dog," said the girl, and with a look out of one eye and +with a slight wag of the tail the dog acknowledged the compliment. + +"Oh, he's gallant," Gid replied, sitting down. "And he knows when a +truth has been told about him." + +"No good at hunting, is he?" Tom asked. + +"He is not a sportsman," Gid answered. "He pays his keep with +companionship. I sit here and read him to sleep nearly every night. He +tries to keep awake, but he can't. But as long as I read a lively book +he'll lie there and look up at me as if he enjoys it, and I believe he +does, but 'Benton's Thirty Years in the American Senate' will knock him +most any time. And old Whateley's logic makes him mighty drowsy. I +reckon you cubs have been to supper. If you haven't you may make +yourselves at home and cook something. Old Aunt Liza cooks for me, out +there in the other room, but she's generally away in the service of her +church and then I have to shift for myself." + +"We've been to supper," the girl spoke up, "but if you want something to +eat I'll cook it." + +"Bless your life, not a bite," the old man protested. "To eat now would +canker a memory. I took sacrament over at the Major's. Now, I'm going to +lean back here and I may talk or I may drop off to sleep, and in either +event just let me go. But if I doze off don't wake me, not even when you +get ready to leave. Just pull the door to and that's all." + +"Ain't you afraid to sleep here all by yourself?" the girl asked. "I'd +be afraid somebody'd slip in and grab me." + +"I could scarcely blame any one for grabbing you, my dear," the old man +replied, smiling upon her, "but as for myself, the grabber would get the +worst of it." + +A long time they sat and talked of neighborhood happenings, the death of +a burly man who it was never supposed could die before Wash Sanders was +laid away; they talked of the growing dissatisfaction among the negroes, +of the church built by Father Brennon, of the trip to be taken to New +Orleans by Jim and Tom. The fire-light died down. A chunk fell and the +dog jumped up with a sniff and a sneeze. Old Gideon took no notice, for +leaning back against the wall he was softly snoring. + +"Let us leave him just as he is," said Tom. + +"But it looks cruel," the girl replied. + +"He suffers from sleeplessness; to wake him would be more cruel. Let's +do as he told us." + +The girl put the bench out of the way, that he might not fall over it in +the dark; and out of the room they tip-toed and silently they closed the +door. By the hand he led her to the road, and with a coo and a song they +strolled homeward. The clouds were scattered and acres of light lay on +the cleared land; but the woods were dark and the shadows were black, +and he walked with his arm about her. They heard the galloping of a +horse and stepped aside to let the rider pass, and when he had passed, +with his head in the moonlight and his horse in the dark, the young man +said: "I know that fellow." + +"Why didn't you speak to him?" she asked. + +"Because it wouldn't do for me to have any words with him. He's the man +that's trying to organize the negroes." + +He left her at Wash Sanders' gate; he heard her feet upon the steps, and +looking back he caught the kiss she threw at him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +A steamboat ride to New Orleans will never lose its novelty. Romance +lies along the lower river. The land falls away and we look down upon +fields bounded by distant mist, and beyond that dim line one's fancy +gallops riotously. Not alone the passenger, but the seasoned captain of +the boat stands musing and motionless, gazing upon the scene. In his +mind he could carry the form and the rugged grandeur of a mountain; upon +a crag he could hang his recollection, but this flat endlessness is ever +an unencompassed mystery. + +The wind from the gulf was soft, and the two friends stood on the +hurricane-deck, charmed with a familiar view. + +"It is just as new to me now as it was when I was a boy, coming along +here with my father," said the giant. "And yet I don't see what makes it +interesting, no woods, nothing but a house here and there." + +"It always makes me think I'm going over the flat side of the globe, and +I catch myself wondering what's just beyond," Tom replied. "There's the +city 'way round yonder. How long do you want to stay?" + +"I don't know exactly." + +"Got any particular business down here?" + +"No," he said, hesitatingly. "None that I know of." + +"Just pleasure, is it?" + +"Well, I reckon we might call it that." + +"Might call it that? But I know why I'm here. I've come because you +wanted me to. There is nothing going on that I care to see. What is it +you're after?" + +"Oh, just want to look around a little." + +"All right, old fellow, I'm with you, but as soon as you get tired of +looking around I wish you'd let me know. It seems to me that I've been +gone a month already. You know why." + +"Yes, I know; but you've got a consolation that I never had--you know +what to expect when you get back." + +"Yes, that's true, and may be you'll know what to expect one of these +days." + +From the museful distance the giant removed his gaze and upon the boy at +his side he bent a kindly look. "I have been reading a good deal of +late," he said, "and old Gid has told me that I am improving, but I have +found no book to speak a word of comfort to me. I took the heartache +away back yonder--but we won't talk about it. We'll poke around down +here a day or two and then go home." + +"But hang it, I thought you came to enjoy yourself and not to conjure up +things to make you sad." + +"You are right, and you shan't hear any more sad talk out of me." + +It was early in the forenoon when they stepped ashore and stood upon the +old levee. The splendid life of the Mississippi steamboat is fading, but +here the glow lingers, the twilight at the close of a fervid day. No +longer are seen the gilded names of famous competitors, "The Lee," "The +Natchez," but unheralded boats are numerous, and the deck-hands' chorus +comes with a swell over the water, and the wharf is a jungle of trade. + +In the French market they drank black coffee, listening to the strange +chatter about them, and then aimlessly they strolled away. + +"What's your programme?" the boy asked. + +"Haven't any." + +"Do you want to call on any of the cotton buyers?" + +"No, don't care to see them." + +"All right; I'll walk until you say quit." + +And thus they passed the day, with strolling about, halting to look at +an old tiled roof, a broken iron gate, a wrought iron balcony, a +snail-covered garden wall; and when evening was come they went to a +hotel to rest; but no sooner had night fallen than they went out again +to resume their walk. + +"Look here," said Tom, beginning to lag, "I don't want to kick, but I'd +just like to know why I am fool enough to walk all day like a mule on a +tread-mill?" + +"You said you'd walk with me." + +"Said I would! Haven't I?" + +"Yes," the giant drawled, "in a manner." + +"If I haven't walked I don't know what you call walking. You have made a +machine of me, a corn-planter. Would you mind telling me where we are +going now?" + +"I confess I don't know," the giant answered. + +"Then let us look around and find out. Right now I'd rather be in old +Gid's house, sitting with somebody on a bench--and I'm going back +to-morrow. What fun is there in poking about this way like a couple of +gawks? You even pull me away from the supper table to tramp up and down +these streets. Hang it, I don't want to see people. Every face I see +is----" + +"A disappointment," said the giant. + +"Then why do you take the crowded side of the street? Let's go in here +and sit down a moment." + +They had halted in front of a music hall. From within proceeded the +husky song of a worn-out negro minstrel. + +"You may go in but I'll walk on," Jim replied. "It's nothing but a dive. +I'll go on down to the corner and wait for you. Don't stay long." + +Jim strode away and Tom went into the beer hall. At the far end was a +stage, and on it stood the minstrel, dimmed by intervening tobacco +smoke. The floor was covered with damp saw-dust. The place was thronged +with a motley crowd, sailors, gamblers, with here and there a sprinkle +of wayward respectability. Painted girls attended the tables and +everywhere was the slopping of beer and the stench of the cigarette. + +Tom was about to turn away when the sight of a company gathered about a +table halted him; and through the smoke his vision leaped and rested +upon--Louise. There was a rush, an over-turning of a table, the toppling +over of a tipsy man, and Tom stood confronting her. In a loud voice he +cried: "What the devil are you doing here?" + +She got up and held out her hand, but resentment entered her mind and +she drew it back. "What are _you_ doing here?" she replied. "I've as +much right here as you have." + +"I'll show you about that!" he roared, his anger lifting his voice high +above the grumble and the sharp clack of the place. "I'll drag you out!" + +Beside her sat a solemnly-respectable man, and up he got and quietly +said: "Your language is most insulting, sir." + +Tom did not wait to weigh the remark; indeed he did not hear it, for +like a bull-dog in a fury he lunged at the quiet man's throat, laid hold +of his collar, shoved him off to arm's length, and struck him, but the +blow glanced and the man jerked away. And then amid loud cries, the +over-turning of tables and the smashing of glasses, the furious +youngster felt himself seized by many hands. But he was a tiger and they +could not bear him to the floor. He broke loose and sprawled one man +upon the saw-dust. Others rushed upon him and again he was in a tangle +and a tug, but he tore himself from their hands, got a square blow at +the proprietor of the house and knocked him senseless. For a moment he +was free, and this moment was not left unimproved. From an upturned +table he wrenched a leg, and swinging it above his head he cleared his +way to a side door, and snatching it open, he sprung out into a small +court, just as the police were entering at the front of the house. In +the court a dim light was burning; at the end, but a few yards away, was +a rusty iron gate, and whether or not it was locked he never knew, for +throwing down his weapon he laid hold of a bar and with a jerk he tore +the gate from its rust-eaten hinges, threw it against a wall and was out +in the street. Now he ran, through an open space, into another street, +and then he walked, panting, looking back. It must have been difficult +to explain the cause of the disturbance for the police had not followed +him. He halted under a lamp hung above a narrow doorway. His hat was +gone, his coat was torn, and the bosom of his shirt was in shreds. The +short street was deserted, but he fancied that he heard footsteps, and +quickly he walked to a corner, and turning, saw Jim standing under a +lamp-post not far away. The giant was not looking toward him, and not +hearing his easy approach, did not turn his head until Tom was almost +within the shade-rim of the lamp. + +"Why, what the deuce have you been doing?" the giant cried, reaching him +at a stride. "You look like a drowned rat, and your neck is clawed. What +have you been doing?" + +"Row," the boy panted. + +"In that place? Come back and we'll clean it out. Come on." + +"No," said Tom, "let's get away from here. I've got something to tell +you. Let's circle round here somewhere and get a hat. I'll tell you when +we get back to the hotel, and you won't care to walk any more to-night +after I've told you." + +Jim might have been burning to know more, but he said nothing, for +dogged patience was a part of his heroism. He took the boy's arm and +led him away, to a place where a hat was bought, and thence to the +hotel; and not until they were shut in a room did Tom attempt to tell +his story. And it was even then some minutes before he could proceed. +His anger was gone and sorrow was upon him. Several times he choked. And +then he told his story. With hard steps the giant walked about the room, +saying not a word; but he drooped as he halted at the window, as he +stood looking out upon the glimmering lights, far below. + +"You said I wouldn't want to walk to-night, but I must," he spoke, and +his voice had a smothered sound. "I am going out to look for her. And +now you know why I have been walking all day, gazing at the faces in the +crowd." He had turned from the glimmering lights and was looking at Tom. +"I traced that letter she wrote, and in my mind I settled that it must +have come from this place. But I didn't tell your mother what I +suspected; I kept it to myself." + +"If you go out again I'll go with you, Jim." + +"No, I insist upon going alone." + +He went out; and when he returned, just before the dawn, he found the +boy asleep on a chair. He took him up, put him upon a bed and sat +himself down at a window; and when Tom awoke, along toward ten o'clock, +the giant was still sitting there. + +"Jim." + +"Well." + +"How long have you been in?" + +"Don't know." + +"You didn't--didn't find her?" + +"No. I went to the place where you had the fight--wish to the Lord I had +been with you--but of course couldn't learn anything. I was--was afraid +to ask about her. But I tramped around all night, and I went into all +sorts of places, looking for her, and all the time afraid that I might +find her. God, what am I talking about! Afraid of finding her! Why, she +couldn't be in a place where--where she oughtn't to be." + +"But she was!" the boy cried, bounding out upon the floor. "She was +and--Great God, I can hardly believe it, I don't realize it! I have been +so swallowed up that I haven't thought about her much lately--she's +crazy, Jim. Oh, she must be. She was the purest-minded girl----" + +The giant stopped him with an uplifting of his ponderous hand. "Don't +say any more. Don't say she _was_ pure-minded. She _is_ pure-minded. I +will find her and she shall tell me----" + +"She can't tell you anything to clear herself, Jim. She's lost--she's +crazy." + +"She's an angel," said the giant. + +"My dear Jim, she's my sister and I loved her, but angels can't go----" + +"Don't say it." + +"I won't, but don't you be foolish. Truth is truth, and we have to look +at it whether we want to or not." He walked up and down the room. "Who +would have thought that such a thing could happen?" he went on. "It's a +dream. But why did she leave home when she knew how much we all loved +her? What made her run away from you when she knew how you loved her? +Jim, I'm going home to-day. Are you coming with me?" + +"No, I'm going to stay here and look for her." + +"And when you have found her she'll treat you as she did me. She'll say +she has as much right there as you have. I don't believe it's any use. +Better come home with me." + +"No, I'm going to look for her, and if she'll marry me I'll bring her +home." + +"Jim, she is my sister, but--I won't say it. I love her, but I would +rather have seen her dead than where I saw her last night. I'm going +home." + +"Wait a moment." For a time he pondered and then he said: "You may tell +your mother, but don't tell the Major." + +"But why should it be kept from him? He ought to know it. We'll have to +tell him some time." + +"Some time, may be, but not now, and don't you even hint it to him, and +don't you tell Sallie. Don't tell any one but your mother. Do you hear?" + +"Yes, and I reckon you're right. I'll do as you tell me. Well, it's time +and I'm going." + +Jim went with him to the levee, saw him on a boat and then resumed his +search throughout the town. But he asked no questions; and three days +later when he went aboard the home-bound boat, he knew no more than he +had known the night when the boy had told his story. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +The night was rainy and a fierce wind was blowing. The Major and his +wife were by the fire in the sitting-room, when there came a heavy tread +upon the porch, but the knock that fell upon the door was gentle. They +knew who had come, and the door was opened for Jim Taylor. Quietly he +responded to their greeting, and with both hands he took off his slouch +hat, went to the fireplace and over the blaze shook it. + +"Put myself in mind of a wet dog," he said. "Didn't think to shake +outside. How are you all getting along?" + +He was looking at Mrs. Cranceford, but the Major answered him. "In the +same old way. Tilt that cat out of the rocking-chair and sit down." + +"Have you heard of the death of Mrs. Wash Sanders?" Mrs. Cranceford +asked, fearing that the Major might get ahead of her with this piece of +news, but all along determined that he should not. + +"No, I haven't," he said; but his want of surprise was not satisfying, +and Mrs. Cranceford said: "I mean Mrs. Wash Sanders." + +"Yes, I know; but this is the first I've heard of it. I came from the +boat right up here. So the poor woman's dead? She never knew anything +but hard work. How long was she sick? Shouldn't think she could take the +time to be sick long, poor soul." + +"She was not in bed more than two days. It was awful, the way she +suffered. And all the time Wash was whining that he couldn't eat +anything, as if anybody cared. I never was so provoked at a man in my +life. I'd like to know who cares whether he eats another bite or not. +Actually, I believe he thought the neighbors had come to sympathize with +him instead of to nurse his wife. And when she was dead he went about +blubbering that he couldn't live but a few days." + +"He'll outlive us all," said the Major. "He told us yesterday that he +was threatened with convulsions, and Gid swore that a convulsion was +about the last thing he ought to fear, that he was too lazy to entertain +such an exertion." + +In this talk Jim felt not even the slightest interest. He wanted to talk +about Louise. But not in Mrs. Cranceford's manner nor in her eyes when +she looked straight at him was there a hint that Tom had told her that +the girl had been seen. Perhaps the boy had decided to elect him to this +unenviable office. The Major asked him about his trip, but he answered +as if he cared not what he said; but when shortly afterward the Major +went out, Taylor's unconcern fell from him and he stood up and in +tremulous anxiousness looked at Mrs. Cranceford, expecting her to say +something. Surely Tom had told her nothing, for she quietly smiled at +him as he stood there, awkwardly and distressfully fumbling with +himself. + +"I have a letter from her," she said. + +Taylor sat down hard. "A letter from her!" + +"Yes; received it this morning." + +"But has Tom told you anything?" + +"Yes; everything." + +"And she has written to you since then?" + +"Yes; I will show you." On a corner of the mantel-piece was a work-box, +and unlocking it, she took out a letter and handed it to him. "Read it," +she said, "and if you hear the Major coming, put it away. Some +references in it would have to be explained, and so I have decided not +to let him see it." + +He took the letter, and standing where the light from the hanging lamp +fell brightest, read the following: + +"My Dear Mother:--By this time Tom must have told you of our meeting. +And what a meeting it was. He was worse than an orang-outang, but I must +say that I admire his courage, and I struggled to help him when he was +in the thick of his fight, but my friends tore me away, realizing that +flight was our only redemption. Of course you will wonder why I was in +such a place, and I don't know that I can explain in a satisfactory +manner to you, and surely not to father. I would have introduced Tom to +my friends had he given me time, but it appears that he was in too much +of a hurry to attend upon the demands of politeness. Fight was boiling +in his blood and it had to bubble out. Mother, I was with a slumming +party. Do you know what a slumming party is? It is a number of +respectable people whom curiosity leads into the resorts of crime and +vice. Society thinks that it makes one wiser, and that to know the +aspect of depravity does not make one less innocent. But I know that you +will not approve of a slumming party, and I cannot say that I do. The +Rev. H. Markham, whose sermons you must have read, was with me. As the +champion of virtue he has planned and executed an invasion of the haunts +of iniquity, and his weekly discourses here are very popular, +particularly with women. Well, he was sitting beside me, and I have +since thought that it must have been a great shock to his dignity when +Tom struck him; but his greatest solicitude was the fear that the +occurrence might be spread by the newspapers, and to keep it out was his +first care. That night on business I left the city, and I write this in +a quiet, Arcadian neighborhood. It is with pleasure that I feel myself a +success in the work which I have chosen. What work? you naturally ask. +But that is my secret, and I must hold it just a little longer." + +Here several lines were erased and a fresh start taken. "I have longed +to look upon the dear faces at home; but mingled with my love is a +pride. I am determined to make something of myself. Simply to be an +honest, patient, upright woman, in love with her home, is no longer +enough. Life demands more than this, or at least woman demands it of +life. And to be somebody calls for sacrifice as well as ability and +determination. Absence from home is my sacrifice, and what my effort is +you shall know in due time. It will surprise you, and in this to me will +lie a delight. My associates tell me that I am different from anyone +else, but this difference they put down as an individuality, and success +in my field is won only by the individual. Within two weeks from this +day I shall be with you, and then my little ant-hill of mystery will be +torn to pieces. I am going to show you all how I love you; I am going to +prove to you that what has appeared odd and unlady-like were but +leadings to my development." + +More lines were erased, and then the letter thus proceeded: + +"For some time I have had it in mind to make Sallie Pruitt a present, +but as I have no idea as to what she might like best, I enclose twenty +dollars, which you will please give to her. Do you see my hero often? I +think of him, dream of him, and my heart will never know a perfect home +until his love has built a mansion for it." + +The letter was fluttering in the giant's hand. "Who--who--what does she +mean?" + +"She means you, stupid!" Mrs. Cranceford cried. + +He looked up, dazed; he put out his hand, he grabbed his hat, he +snatched the door open and was out in the wind and the rain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +With rain-soaked sand the road was heavy, and to walk was to struggle, +but not so to the giant treading his way homeward. Coming, he had felt +the opposition of the wind, the rain and the mushy sand, but returning +he found neither in the wind nor in the sand a foe to progress. His +heart was leaping, and with it his feet were keeping pace. In his hand +he held the letter; and feeling it begin to cool in his grasp, he +realized that the rain was beating upon it; so, holding in common with +all patient men the instincts of a woman, he put the wet paper in his +bosom and tightly buttoned his coat about it. Suddenly he halted; the +pitiful howling of a dog smote his ear. At the edge of a small field +lying close to the road was a negro's cabin, and from that quarter came +the dog's distressful outcry. Jim stepped up to the fence and listened +for any human-made noise that might proceed from the cabin, but there +came none--the place was dark and deserted. "They have gone away and +left him shut up somewhere," he mused, as he began to climb the fence. +The top rail broke under his weight, and his mind flew back to the day +when he had seen Louise in the road, confronted by the burly leader of +a sheepfold, for then with climbing a fence he had broken the top rail. + +He found the dog shut in a corn-crib, and the door was locked. But with +a jerk he pulled out the staple, thinking not upon the infraction of +breaking a lock, but glad to be of service even to a hound. + +"Come out, old fellow," he called, and he heard the dog's tail thrashing +the corn husks. "Come on." + +The dog came to the door, licking at the hand of his rescuer; and Jim +was about to help him to the ground when a lantern flashed from a corner +of the crib. "What are you doing here?" a voice demanded. + +A white man stepped forward and close behind him a negro followed. "What +are you doing here?" the white man again demanded. + +"Getting a dog out of trouble." + +"Getting yourself into trouble, you'd better say. What right have you to +poke about at night, breaking people's locks?" + +"None at all, I am forced to acknowledge. I hardly thought of what I was +doing. My only aim was to help the dog." + +"That will do to tell." + +"Yes, I think so. And by the way, what right have you to ask so many +questions? You don't live here." + +"But he does," the white man replied, swinging his lantern toward the +negro. "Gabe Little lives here." + +"That you, Gabe?" Taylor asked. + +"Yas, whut de white folks has left o' me." + +"All right. You are well enough acquainted with me to know that I +wouldn't break a lock----" + +"But you have, sir," the white man insisted. + +"Not exactly; but I have drawn the staple. By the way, whose dog is +this?" The dog had jumped out and was frisking about Taylor's legs. +"It's a setter and doesn't belong to you, Gabe." + +"Dat's fur me ter say, sah," the negro sullenly replied. + +"That so? Well, I guess I'll keep him until I find out his owner." + +"That's neither here nor there!" the white man almost shouted. "The +question is, what right have you got to go to a man's house at night and +break his lock?" + +"None, I tell you; and I'm not only willing to pay all damages, but will +answer to the law." + +"The law!" and this time he shouted. "Law to protect a negro's lock? Let +us hear no more about the law. What we want is justice, and we're going +to have it, sooner or later." + +"Who are you, anyway?" the giant asked. "Oh, yes, you are Mr. Mayo, I +believe. Well, I'll bid you good-night." + +"Wait. You have invaded this man's premises and committed a violence." + +"That's a fact, and I'm sorry for it." + +"Yes, you are now, but how will you feel about it to-morrow? You'll +forget all about it, and that's the way the colored man is treated in +this infernal state. No, Gabe," he quickly added, taking hold of the +negro's arm, "Put it up. The time ain't ripe." + +The negro had drawn a knife, opening it with a spring, and with a loud +snap he closed it. "We mustn't be the first to strike, although they +break into our houses," Mayo said; and then speaking to Taylor he added: +"You may go." + +The giant threw back his head and laughed. "I may go. Why, if it wasn't +for the fact that I'm feeling particularly happy to-night, I'd mash your +mouth for that. I should think that your poor fool there would teach you +better than to talk to me that way. But I'll be a better friend to you +than you have taught him to be--I'll give you some very useful advice. +If you should ever see me coming along the road, turn back or climb the +fence, for I might not be in as good humor as I'm in now." + +He whistled and strode away, with the dog trotting at his heels; and by +the time he gained the road the occurrence had almost wholly passed out +of his mind, so fondly did his heart leap at the thought of the letter +in his bosom. + +Upon reaching a gate that opened into his meadow, he looked about and +whistled for the dog, but the setter was gone. "You were howling for +your master," the giant said, "and the greatest service I could do you +was to let you go to him. All right, old fellow, we are both happier for +having met." + +He went into the house, lighted his lamp, sat down, read the letter; he +went out and stood under the weeping-willow. "If I am foolish," he said, +"it is delicious to be a fool, and God pity the wise. But I don't know +what to do with myself. Yes, I do; I'll go over and see old Gideon." + +He considered not the increasing rain, the dreariness of the road, the +moanful wind in the tops of the trees; he felt that to be alone was to +suppress a part of his happiness, that his light and talkative heart +must seek a hearing for the babbling of its joy. So off he strode, and +as he climbed over a fence, he laughingly jolted himself upon the top +rail to see whether it would break. It did not, and he laughed to find a +stick of old timber strong enough to support his weight. He called +himself a lumbering fool and laughed again, sitting there with the rain +beating upon him. + +A short distance down the road was a wagon-maker's shop, and against the +outside wall a ladder was leaned. He thought of the ladder as he bore +to the edge of the road to avoid the deep ruts cut by the cotton-wagons, +and fearful that he might pass under it and thus invite ill luck, he +crossed to the other side. He smiled at this weakness, instilled by the +negroes, but he did not recross the road until he had passed far beyond +the shop. The old black mammy was lovable and affectionate, but she +intimidated man with many a superstition. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +In old Gid's house a light was burning, and as the giant drew near, he +caught a fragment of a flat-boatman's song. He made no noise, but a dog +inside scented his approach and announced it with a whimsical bark. Gid +opened the door. + +"Why, here's Jim Taylor, as wet as a drowned bear. Come in." + +Sitting by the fire was the Major, with his coat off and his shirt +collar unbuttoned. + +"Why, James," said he, "you are making the rounds to-night. Sit down +here and dry yourself. And look at you, mud up to your knees. Why do you +tramp about this way? Why don't you ride?" + +"Too heavy," the giant answered. + +"Then, I gad," Gid replied, dragging his bench from against the wall and +sitting down upon it, "I know I'd ride. Do men ride for their own +comfort or for the horse's? And what difference do a few extra pounds +make to a horse? Why, if you were a horse somebody would ride you. You +are not fat, Jim; you are just big. And a horse doesn't mind a +well-proportioned fellow; it's the wabbling fat man that riles him. I +owned a horse once that would have been willing to go without corn a +whole week for a chance to kick a fat man; and I put it down as an +unreasonable cruelty until I found out that he had once belonged to a +fellow that weighed three hundred pounds." + +"And you afterward owned him," said the Major, winking at Jim. + +"That's what I said, John." + +"Now, Gid, I don't want to appear captious, but are you sure you ever +owned a horse?" + +"I bought that horse, John. I confess that it was with borrowed money, +but under the law he was mine. Ah, Lord," he sighed, "self-imposed +frankness will be gone when I am taken from you. And yet I get no +credit." + +"No credit!" cried the Major. "Credit has kept you from starving." + +"Tip-toe, John; my nerves are tight-strung. Would have starved! A +befitting reproach thrown at genius. Look up there!" he shouted, waving +his hand at the shelf whereon were piled his dingy books. "They never +owned a horse and they lived on credit, but they kept the world from +starving to death. And this reminds me that those sweet potatoes must be +about done. Your name is among the coals, Jim; we've got enough for all +hands. Wish we had some milk, but I couldn't get any. Dogs couldn't +catch the cow. You hear of cows giving milk. Mine don't--I gad, I have +to grab her and take it away from her; and whenever you see milk in my +house you may know it's the record of a fight and that the cow got the +worst of it." + +Jim sat striving to think of something to say. The presence of the Major +had imposed a change in his forecast. His meeting of Mayo and the negro +suddenly recurred to him, and quietly he related the adventure. But the +Major and Gid were not quiet with hearing it. + +"You ought to have cut his throat!" Gid exclaimed. "To-morrow get your +gun and shoot him down--both of them, like dogs. Who ever heard of such +a thing, saying to a gentleman, 'now you may go!' I gad, I'll go with +you, and we'll shoot 'em down." + +"No," said the Major, and now with his hands behind him he was slowly +pacing the floor. "That won't do." + +"Why won't it do?" Gid cried. "Has the time come when a white man must +stand all sorts of abuse simply because he is white? Must he stand +flat-footed and swallow every insult that a scoundrel is pleased to +stuff into his mouth?" + +The Major sat down. "Let me remind you of something," he said. "For the +average man, under ordinary circumstances, it is enough to have simple +justice on his side, but on our side we must have more than justice. No +people in the world were ever situated as we now are, for even by our +brothers we shall be deemed wrong, no matter which way we turn." + +"Ah," Gid cried, "then what's the use of calculating our turn? If we are +to be condemned anyway, what's the----" + +"Hold on a moment," the Major struck in, "and I will tell you. Sentiment +is against us; literature, with its roots running back into the harsh +soil of politics, is against us; and----" + +"No measured oratory, John. Get down on the ground." + +"Wait, I tell you!" the Major demanded. "I must get to it in my own way. +If your advice were followed, we should never be able to elect another +president. The bloody shirt would wave from every window in the North, +and from the northern point of view, justly so; and reviewed even by the +disinterested onlooker, we have not been wholly in the right." + +"The deuce we haven't!" Gid shouted, his eyes bulging. + +"No, not wholly; we couldn't be," the Major continued. "As +self-respecting men, as Anglo-Saxons, we could not submit to the +domination of former slaves. It was asking too much. We had ruled the +nation, and though we were finally overpowered, we could not accept the +negro as a ruler." + +"John, I know all that as well as you do; we have talked it many a +time, but what I want to get at is this: Has a man the right to resent +an insult? I was never cruel to a negro. I like him in his place, like +him better than I do the average white man, to tell the plain truth, for +between him and me there is the tie of irresponsibility, of +shiftlessness; but I don't want him to insult me; don't want to stand +any more from him than I would from a white man. You spoke of not being +able to elect another president. Why should we put up with so much +merely to say that a democrat is president? It doesn't make much +difference who's president, foreign nations keep on insulting us just +the same. I'd like to see a chief magistrate with nerve enough to say to +the South, 'Boys, go over and grab off Mexico.' That's me." + +The Major laughed. "That's me, too," he replied. + +"We ought to sweeten this country with Cuba," said Jim, with his mind on +the letter in his bosom. + +"Yes," Gid replied, raising his hand, "that's what we ought to do, +and----" His hand fell, and he wheeled about and seized a poker. "I'll +bet a thousand dollars the potatoes are burned up," he said. "Just look +there," he added, raking out the charred remains of what was to be a +feast. "That's the way it goes. The devil titters when men argue. Well, +it can't be helped," he went on. "I did my part. If we had settled +upon killing that fellow Mayo, everything would have been all right. He +has not only insulted us but has robbed us as well." + +"To tell you the truth," said the Major, "I'm glad I'm relieved of the +trouble of eating." + +"John, don't say that, for when a Southern man loses his appetite for +roasted sweet potatoes, he's a degenerate." + +The Major was about to say something, but looking at his watch he jumped +up. "Gracious, Gid, you not only kill your own time but murder mine. +It's nearly two o'clock." + +"Sit down, John. Don't be snatched." + +"Snatched! Wind-bag, you counsel me to blow my life away. Hold your lamp +out here so that I can see to get on my horse." + +When Gid returned from the passage wherein he had stood to shelter the +light, he found Jim on the bench, with no apparent intention of taking +his leave; and this he construed to mean that the giant had something on +his mind. + +"Out with it, Jimmie," he said, as he put the lamp upon the +mantel-piece. "I'll sit down here as if it was only early +candle-lighting, and let you tell me all about it." + +"How do you know I've got anything to say, Uncle Gideon?" + +"How do I know when a dog itches? I see him scratch. You have been +sitting there in an itching silence and now you begin to scratch. You +are more patient than a dog, for you don't scratch until you have itched +for some time. Let the fur fly, Jimmie." + +Jim laughed, raised his leg and clasped his hands over his knee. "Uncle +Gideon, I reckon I'm the happiest man in Cranceford County." + +The old man sat leaning back against the wall. His coat was off and +under his suspenders he had hooked his thumbs. "Go on, Jimmie; I'm +listening." + +"She has written another letter--Did Tom tell you anything?" he broke +off. + +"Did Tom ever tell me anything? Did Tom ever tell anybody anything? Did +he ever know anything to tell?" + +"She has written another letter and in it she confesses--I don't know +how to say it, Uncle Gideon." + +"Well, tell me and I'll say it for you. Confesses that she can be happy +with no one but you. Go on." + +"Who told you? Did Mrs. Cranceford?" + +"My dear boy, did Mrs. Cranceford ever tell me anything except to keep +off the grass? Nobody has told me anything. Confesses that you are the +only man that can make her happy. Now shoot your dye-stuff." + +"But that's all there is. She says that her heart will never have a home +until my love builds a mansion for it." + +"Jimmie, if the highest market price for a fool was one hundred dollars, +you'd fetch two hundred." + +"Why? Because I believe her when she talks that way--when she gives me +to understand that she loves me?" + +"No; but because you didn't believe all along that she loved you." + +"How could I when she refused to marry me and married another man?" + +"That marriage is explained. You've seen the letter she wrote the night +before she went away, haven't you?" + +"Yes, her mother showed it to me." + +"I didn't read it," said Gid, "but the Major gave me the points, and I +know that she married that fellow believing that she was saving his +soul." + +"Yes, I read that," said Jim, "but I didn't know whether she meant it or +not. I reckon I was afraid to believe it." + +"Well, I know it to be a fact--know it because I know her nature. She's +just crank enough----" + +"Don't say that," Jim protested, unclasping his hands from his knee and +straightening up. "Don't call her a crank when she's an angel." + +"That's all right, my dear boy, but heaven is full of the right sort of +cranks. Who serves God deeper than the religious crank, and if he's not +to be rewarded, who is? By crank I don't mean a weak-minded person; I +come nearer meaning a genius." + +"I reckon you mean all right," the giant agreed; and after pondering in +silence he asked: "Do you reckon she would marry me?" + +"I know it. And why not? You are a gentleman and a devilish good-looking +fellow. Why, any woman interested in a fine stock show would be proud of +you." + +At this the giant rubbed his hands together and softly chuckled; but +sobering, he said that he could never hope to equal her in thought and +quickness of expression, though by reading he would make an effort to +attain that end. + +"Don't worry about that, Jimmie; and don't you fool yourself that books +are everything. They smooth knots, but they don't make timber. Oh, you +are smart enough--for a woman." + +"I'm not an idiot," said the giant. "Sometimes I can talk without any +trouble, and then again I can't say a thing. It's different with you." + +The old man's egotism awoke--it never more than dozed. "Jimmie," said +he, "it is violating no compact to tell you that I'm no common man. +Other men have a similar opinion of themselves and are afraid to spit it +out, but I'm bold as well as wise. I know that my opinion doesn't go for +much, for I'm too good-humored, too approachable. The blitheness of my +nature invites familiarity. You go to a house and make too much of the +children, and the first thing you know they'll want to wallow on you all +the time. Well, I have made too much of the children of the world, and +they wallow on me. But I pinch them sometimes and laugh to hear them +squeal. There's only one person that I'm afraid of--Mrs. Cranceford. She +chills me and keeps me on the frozen dodge. I always feel that she is +reading me, and that makes me more of a rascal--trying to give her +something that she can't read. Look here, if we expect to get any sleep +we'd better be at it." + +"You go to bed, Uncle Gideon; I'm going to sit up." + +"All right; sit there as long as you please." The old fellow got up, and +walking stiffly went to the window, drew aside the red calico curtain +and looked out. "Don't see much promise of a clear-up," he said. "Not a +star in sight. I always dread the rainy season; it makes people look +sad, and I want to see them bright--I am most agreeable to them when +they're bright. Still, I understand that nothing is more tiresome than +eternal sunshine. I wonder if I locked the smokehouse," he went on, +turning from the window. "But, come to think, I don't believe I've +locked it since about a week ago, when some rascal slipped in and stole +nearly all my hams and a bushel of meal. I gad, my old joints work like +rusty hinges. Well, I'll lie down now. Good night, Jimmie. Don't slip +off before breakfast." + +The giant did not hear him. He sat leaning forward, gazing at the +cliffs, the mountains, the valleys in the fire. The rain had ceased, but +now and then came a dashing shower, like a scouting party, a guerrilla +band sweeping through the dark. To the muser there was no time; time had +dribbled out and reverie had taken its place. The fire was dying. He saw +the red cliffs grow gray along the edges, age creeping over the rocks; +he saw a mountain fall into a whitening valley, and he looked up. It was +daylight. He went to the door and looked out, and far across the river +the brilliant morning sun was rising from a bath of steam. + +"You here yet, Jimmie?" The bed loudly creaked, and the giant, looking +about, found old Gid sitting on the edge of his couch, rubbing his eyes. +"Don't go, for we'll have breakfast now in a minute. I am always glad to +look up and find a picture of manliness and strength. It takes me back +to my own early days, when I didn't know the meaning of weakness. But I +know now--I can feel it all over me. I do think I can dream more foolish +things during three to half a dozen winks of sleep than any man that +ever lived. Now, what could have put it into my mind to dream that I +was born with one leg and was trying at a county fair to swap it off for +two? Well, I hear the old woman setting the table out there. Wait till I +jump into my clothes and I'll pour a gourd of water for you to wash your +face and hands. Had a wash-basin round here somewhere, but don't know +what became of it. Had intended to get another, but have been so busy. +But I'll tell you there's nothing like a good wash under a pouring +gourd. How's your appetite this morning?" + +"I don't know." + +"Well, you may find it when you sniff old Liza's corn cakes. Now what +the deuce became of that other suspender? We used to call them galluses +in my day. And now where is that infernal gallus? Beats anything I ever +saw in my life. Ah, there it is, over by the window. But how it could +have jumped off I don't know. Now let me shove into my old shoes and +I'll be with you." + +Out in the yard, in a fabulous net of gilded mist they stood, to bathe +under the spouting gourd, the mingling of a new day's poetry and the +shiftlessness of an old man. "Stream of silver in the gold of a +resurrected sun," he said, bareheaded and blinking. "Who'd want a +wash-pan? I gad, Jimmie, folks are forgetting how to live. They are +putting too much weight on what they can buy for money, unmindful of the +fact that the best things of this life are free. Look at that gourd, +old, with a sewed-up crack in it, and yet to my mind it serves its +purpose better than a china basin. Well, let's go in now and eat a bite. +I'm always hungry of a morning. An old fellow is nearer a boy when he +first gets up, you know; but he grows old mighty fast after he's had +breakfast." + +The giant, saying never a word, followed him, the loose boards of the +passageway between the two sections of the house creaking and groaning +as he trod upon them; and coming to the door he had to stoop, so low had +it been cut. + +"That's right, Jimmie, duck or you'll lay yourself out. I gad, the +world's full of traps set for big fellows. Now sit down there and fall +to. Don't feel very brash this morning, do you?" + +"I feel first-rate," Jim answered, sitting down. + +"Youth and love mixed," said the old man, placing himself at the head of +the board. "And ah, Lord, when we grow out of one and forget the other, +there's not much left to live for. I'd rather be a young fellow in love +than to be an emperor. Help yourself to a slab of that fried ham. She'll +bring the coffee pretty soon. Here she comes now. Waiting for you, Aunt +Liza. Have some hoe-cake, Jimmie. Yes, sir; youth and love constitute +the world, and all that follows is a mere makeshift. Thought may come, +but thought, after all, is but a dull compromise, Jimmie, a cold potato +instead of a hot roll. Love is noon, and wisdom at its best is only +evening. There are some quince preserves in that jar. Help yourself. +Thought about her all night, didn't you?" + +"I think about her all the time, Uncle Gideon." + +"And Jimmie, it wouldn't surprise me if the world should think about her +after a while. That woman's a genius." + +"I hope not," the giant replied, looking up, and in his voice was a note +of distress, and in his eyes lay the shadow of a fear. + +"And why not, Jimmie?" + +"Because if she should turn out to be a genius she won't marry me." + +"That's where your perception is broken off at the end, Jimmie. In the +matter of marriage genius is mighty skittish of genius--it seeks the +constancy of the sturdy and commonplace. I'll try a dip of those +preserves. Now let me see. After breakfast you'd better lie down on my +bed and take a nap." + +"No, I must go. The Major is going over to Brantly to-day and I want him +to bring me a box of cartridges. I forgot to tell him last night." + +"Oh, you're thinking about Mayo, eh?" + +"Well, I don't know but he did cross my mind. It occurred to me that he +might waylay me some night, and I don't want to stand out in the road +and dance while he's shooting at me." + +"That's right," said the old man. "A fellow cuts a mighty sorry figure +dancing under such circumstances. I've tried it." + +He shoved his chair back from the table and Jim got up to take his +leave. "Look out for the door, Jimmie. Duck as you go under or it will +lay you out. Traps set all through life for fellows of your size." + +Jim was not oppressed with weariness as he strode along the highway, for +in the crisp air a tonic was borne, but loss of sleep had made his +senses dreamy, and all things about him were touched with the spirit of +unreality--the dead leaves fluttering on the underbrush, the purple mist +rising from the fields, the water-mirrors flashing in the road; and so +surrendered was he to a listless brooding, forgetful even that he moved +along, that he did not notice, up the road, a man leap aside into the +woods. The man hid behind a tree, with his eye on the giant and with the +barrel of a pistol pressed hard against the bark. Jim passed on, with +his hands in his pockets, looking down; and when a clump of bushes, red +with frost-dyed leaves, hid him from view, Mayo came out from behind the +tree and resumed his journey down the road. + +The Major had mounted his horse at the gate and was on the point of +riding forth when Jim came up. "Why, good-morning, James," the old +gentleman heartily greeted him. "Have you just crawled out of that old +man's kennel? I see that the old owl must have kept you up all night. +Why, sir, if I were to listen to him I'd never get another wink of +sleep." + +"I kept myself up," said the giant; and then he added: "I wanted to see +you this morning, not very bad, but just to ask you to get me a box of +forty-fours when you go to Brantly to-day." + +"I'm glad to find you so thoughtful," said the Major. "And I want to +tell you right now that you've got to look out for yourself. But staying +up all night is no way to begin. Go on into Tom's room and take a nap." + +The Major whistled as he rode along, not for want of serious reflection, +for he could easily have reached out and drawn in trouble, but because +the sharp air stirred his spirits. Nowhere was there a cloud--a +speckless day in the middle of a week that had threatened to keep the +sky besmirched. Roving bands of negro boys were hunting rabbits in the +fields, with dogs that leaped high in low places where dead weeds stood +brittle. The pop-eyed hare was startled from his bed among brambly +vines, and fierce shouts arose like the remembered yell of a Confederate +troop. The holidays were near, the crops were gathered, the winter's +wood was up, the hunting season open, but no negro fired a gun. At this +time of the year steamboatmen and tavern-keepers in the villages were +wont to look to Titus, Eli, Pompey, Sam, Caesar and Bill for their game, +and it was not an unusual sight to see them come loaded down with +rabbits and quails caught in traps, but now they sat sullen over the +fire by day, but were often met prowling about at night. This crossed +the Major's mind and drove away his cheerful whistling; and he was +deeply thinking when someone riding in haste reined in a horse abreast +of him. Looking up he recognized the priest. + +"Why, good morning, Mr. Brennon; how are you?" + +"Well, I thank you. How far do you go?" + +"To Brantly." + +"That's fortunate," said the priest, "for I am selfish enough to let you +shorten the journey for me." + +"I can't do that," the Major laughed, "but we can divide it. I remember +overtaking a man one miserable day out in the Indian Territory. He was +ignorant, but he was quaint; he couldn't argue, but he could amuse, and +he did until he called me a liar, and there our roads split. Don't +think, from my telling you this, that I am in the least doubt as to the +desirability of your company on the road to Brantly. Been some time +since I've seen you, Mr. Brennon." + +"Yes; I have been very busy." + +"And successfully so, I suppose." + +"I am not in a position to complain," said the priest. + +"By the way, will you answer a few questions?" + +"Gladly, if they're answerable." + +"I think they are. Now, the negroes that come into your communion tell +you many things, drop idle gossip that may mean much. Did any of them +ever drop a hint of preparations which their brethren may or may not be +making to demand some unreasonable concession from the white people of +this community?" + +"What I have seen I am free to relate to you," the priest answered, "but +as to what has been told--well, that is quite another matter. I have +seen no preparations, but you doubtless remember a conversation we had +some time ago, and on that occasion I think we agreed that we might have +trouble sooner or later." + +"Yes, we were agreed upon that point," the Major replied, "but neither +of us professed to see trouble close at hand. For some time I have heard +it rumored that the negroes are meeting at night to drill, but I have +paid but little attention, giving them credit for more sense than to +believe that their uprising could be more than a short, and, to +themselves, a disastrous, struggle; but there is one aspect that +impresses me, the fact that they are taking no notice of the coming of +Christmas; for when this is the case you must know that the negro's +nature must have undergone a complete change. I don't quite understand +it. Why, sir, at present they can find no possible excuse for revolt. +The crops are gathered and they can make no demand for higher wages; no +election is near and they can't claim a political cause for +disaffection. If they want better pay for their labor, why didn't they +strike in the midst of the cotton-picking? That would have been their +time for trouble, if that's what they want." + +"Perhaps they hadn't money enough to buy equipment, guns and +ammunition," the priest suggested. "Perhaps they needed the money that +the gathering of the crops would bring them." + +The Major looked at him. "I hadn't thought of that," he said. "But +surely the negroes have sense enough to know that the whites would +exterminate them within a week." + +It was some time before Father Brennon replied. His deliberation led the +Major to believe that he would speak from his abundant resources; and +the planter listened eagerly with his head turned to one side and with +his hand behind his ear. "It is possible," the priest began, "that the +negro had been harangued to the conviction that he is to begin a +general revolt against capital, that labor organizations everywhere will +rise up when they hear that he has been bold enough to fire his gun." + +The Major's shoulders stiffened. "Sir, if you have known this, why +haven't you as a white man and a Southern gentleman told us of it? Why +haven't you warned us?" + +The priest smiled. "Your resentment is just," said he. "But the truth +is, it was not formulated as an opinion until late last night. I called +at your house this morning and was told that you had set out for the +county-seat. And I have overtaken you." + +The Major reined up his horse. Both horses stopped. "Mr. Brennon, you +are a gentleman, sir. My hand." + +They shook hands and rode on. The Major was deep in thought. "It has all +been brought about by that scoundrel Mayo," he said at last. "He has +instilled a most deadly poison into the minds of those people. I will +telegraph the governor and request him to send the state militia into +this community. The presence of the soldiers will dissolve this +threatened outbreak; and by the blood, sir, Mayo shall be convicted of +treason against the state and hanged on the public square in Brantly. +And that will be an end of it." + +The priest said nothing, and after a time the Major asked: "How are you +getting on with your work?" + +"I am greatly encouraged, and I wish I had more time." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I have told you that the church can save the negro. Do you know a negro +named Bob Hackett?" + +"Yes; he was a worthless politician, but they tell me that he has +withdrawn from active politics and gone to work. What about him?" + +"He is now a communicant of the church," the priest answered. "He +acknowledges a moral authority; and I make bold to say that should +trouble come, he will take no part in it. And I make still bolder to say +that the church, the foster mother of the soul of man, can in time +smooth all differences and establish peace and brotherly regard between +the white man and the negro. The Ethiopian cannot change his skin, but +true religion whitens his soul and makes him our brother." + +"Your sentiment is good," replied the Major, "but religion must +recognize an impossibility. The white man and the negro can never hold +each other in brotherly regard. Never." + +"Don't say never, Major. Men pass from fixed prejudices; the church is +eternal in its purpose. Don't say never." + +"Well, then, sir," cried the Major, standing in his stirrups, "I will +not say never; I will fix a time, and it shall be when the pyramids, +moldered to dust, are blown up and down the valley of the Nile." + +He let himself down with a jolt, and onward in silence they rode. And +now from a rise of ground the village of Brantly was in sight. The +priest halted. "I turn back here," he said. + +"Mr. Brennon," the Major replied, "between you and me the question of +creed should not arise. You are a white man and a gentleman. My hand, +sir." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +Brantly long ago was a completed town. For the most part it was built of +wood, and its appearance of decay was so general and so even as to +invite the suspicion that nearly all its building had been erected on +the same day. In the center of the town was the public square, and about +it were ranged the business houses, and in the midst of it stood the +court house with its paint blistered and its boards warping. It was +square, with a hall and offices below. Above was the court room, and +herein was still heard the dying echo of true oratory. On the top of +this building, once the pride of the county, was a frail tower, and in +it was a clock, always slow. It was never known to record an hour until +that hour had long since been due. Sometimes it would save up its +strokes upon the bell until fifty or more were accumulated, and then, in +the midst of an intense jury trial, it would slowly turn them loose. A +mathematician, a man who kept the dates of late and early frosts, had it +in his record that the hammer struck the bell sixty-eight times on the +afternoon when John Maffy was sentenced to be hanged, and that the +judge had to withhold his awful words until this flood of gathered time +was poured out. Once or twice the county court had appropriated money to +have the clock brought back within the bounds of reason, but a more +pressing need had always served to swallow up the sum thus set aside. + +A stone planted at one corner of the public square marked the site of a +bit of bloody history. Away back in the fifties a man named Antrem, from +New England, came to Brantly and, standing where the stone now stands, +made an abolition speech. It was so bold an impudence that the citizens +stood agape, scarcely able to believe their ears. At last the passive +astonishment was broken by a slave-owner named Peel. He drew two +pistols, handed one to the speaker, stepped off and told him to defend +himself. The New Englander had nerve. He did defend himself, and with +deadly effect. Both men were buried on the public square. + +A railway had skipped Brantly by ten long and sandy miles, and a new +town springing up about a station on the line--an up-start of yesterday, +four-fifths of it being a mere paper town, and the other fifth +consisting of cheap and hastily built stores, saloons, boarding houses, +a livery stable, a blacksmith shop, and a few roughly constructed +dwellings--clamored for the county seat; and until this question was +finally settled old Brantly could not look with confidence toward any +improvement. Indeed, some of her business men stood ready to desert her +in the event that she should be beaten by the new town, and while all +were bravely willing to continue the fight against the up-start, every +one was slow to hazard his money to improve his home or his place of +business. Whenever a young man left Brantly it was predicted that he +would come to no good, and always there came a report that he was +gambling, or drinking himself to death. The mere fact that he desired to +leave the old town was fit proof of his general unworthiness to succeed +in life. + +The Major rode into town, nodding at the loungers whom he saw on the +corners of the streets, and tying his horse to the rack on the square, +went straightway to the shop of the only hardware dealer and asked for +cartridges. + +"My stock is running pretty low," said the dealer, wrapping up the +paste-board box. "I've sold more lately than I ever sold in any one +season before, and yet there's no game in the market." + +The Major whistled. "Who has been buying them?" he asked. + +"Come to think of it I have sold the most to a Frenchman named +Larnage--lives over on the Potter place, I believe. And that reminds me +that I'll have a new lot in to-day, ordered for him." + +"Do you know anything about that fellow?" the Major asked. + +"Not very much." + +"Well, don't let him have another cartridge. Keep all you get. We'll +need them to protect life and property." + +"What! I don't understand." + +"I haven't time to explain now, for I'm reminded that I must go at once +to the telegraph office. Come over to the court-house." + +The Major sent a dispatch to the governor and then went to the county +clerk's office where he found the hardware dealer and a number of men +waiting for him. The report that he was charged with serious news was +already spread about; and when he entered, the clerk of the county +court, an old fellow with an ink-blot on his bald head, came forward +with an inquiry as to what had been meant when the Major spoke of the +cartridges. The Major explained his cause for alarm. Then followed a +brief silence, and then the old fellow who kept the records of the +frosts and the clock, spoke up with the assertion that for some time he +had expected it. "Billy," he said, speaking to the clerk, "I told you +the other day that we were going to have trouble mighty soon. Don't you +recollect?" + +"Don't believe I do, Uncle Parker." + +"But I said so as sure as you are standing there this minute. Let me try +a little of your tobacco." The clerk handed him a plug, and biting off a +chew, the old man continued: "Yes, sir, I've had it in mind for a long +time." + +"Everybody has talked more or less about it," said the clerk. + +"Oh, I know they have, Billy, but not p'intedly, as I have. Yes, sir, +bound to come." + +"The thing to do is to over-awe them," said the Major. "I have just +telegraphed the governor to send the militia down here. And by the way, +that fellow Mayo ought to be arrested without delay. Billy, is the +sheriff in his office?" + +"No, Major, he's gone down to Sassafras to break up a gang of negro +toughs that have opened a gambling den. He'll be back this evening and +I'll have the warrant ready for him by the time he gets back. Any of us +can swear it out--reckon all our names better go to it." + +"Yes," the Major agreed, "we'd better observe the formalities of the +law. The militia will undo all that has been done, and as for the fellow +that brought about the inquietude, we'll see him hanged in front of this +door." + +Old man Parker, who kept the records, nudged his neighbor and said: +"Inquietude is the word. I told my wife last night, says I, 'Nancy, +whenever you want the right word, go to John Cranceford.' That's what I +said. Major; and I might have said go to your father if he was alive, +for he stood 'way up among the pictures, I tell you; and I reckon I +knowd him as well as any man in the county. I ricollect his duel with +Dabney." + +"He was to have fought a man named Anderson Green," replied the Major, +"but a compromise was effected." + +"Yes," said Parker, "Green's the man I was tryin' to think of. It was +Shelton that fought Dabney." + +"Shelton fought Whitesides," said the Major. + +The men began to titter, "Well, then, who was it fought Dabney?" + +"Never heard of Dabney," the Major answered. + +"Well, I have, and somebody fought him, but it makes no difference. So, +in your father's case a compromise was effected. The right word again; +and that's what makes me say to my wife, 'Nancy, whenever you want the +right word go to John Cranceford;' and, as I said a while ago, your +father either, for I knowd him as well as any man, and was present at +the time he bought a flat-boat nigger named Pratt Boyce." + +"My father was once forced to sell, but he never bought a negro," the +Major replied. + +"That so? Well, now, who was it bought Pratt Boyce? You fellers shut up +your snortin'. I reckon I know what I'm talkin' about." + +The county judge and several other men came in and the talk concerning +the threatened negro outbreak was again taken up. "It seems rather +singular," said the Judge, "that we should worry through a storm of +politics and escape any very serious bloodshed and reach a climax after +all these years. Of course when two races of people, wholly at variance +in morals and social standing, inhabit the same community, there is +always more or less danger, still I don't think that the negroes have so +little sense----" + +"Ah, the point I made," the Major broke in. "But you see a labor plank +has been added to their platform of grievance." + +Parker nudged his neighbor. "I says, says I, 'Nancy, John Cranceford for +the right word.'" + +"There's something in that," the Judge replied. "Nothing can be madder +than misled labor. We have been singularly free from that sort of +disturbances, but I suppose our time must come sooner or later. But I +think the militia will have a good effect so far as the negroes +themselves are concerned. But of course if the soldiers come and the +trouble blows over without any demonstration whatever, there will be +considerable dissatisfaction among the people as to why such a step +should have been taken. Uncle Parker," he added, turning to the +record-keeper, "think we'll have much cold weather this winter?" + +Parker did not answer at once. He knew that glibness would argue against +due meditation. "I see a good many signs," he slowly answered. "Hornets +hung their nests on the low limbs of the trees, and there are other +indications, still it largely depends on the condition of the wind. +Sometimes a change of wind knocks out all calculations, still, I feel +assured in saying that we are goin' to have a good deal of frost first +and last; but if the militia don't get here in time we are mighty apt to +have it hotter before we have it colder. Last night while I sat at home +by the fire a smokin' of my pipe, and Nancy a-settin' there a-nittin' a +pair of socks for a preacher, I looks up and I says, 'there's goin' to +be trouble in this community before many changes of the moon,' I says, +and I want at all surprised to-day when the Major here come a-ridin' in +with his news. Don't reckon any of you ricollect the time we come mighty +nigh havin' a nigger uprisin' before the war. But we nipped it in the +bud; and I know they hung a yaller feller that cost me fifteen hundred +dollars in gold." + +The old man was so pleased to find himself listened to by so large a +company that he squared himself for a longer discourse upon happenings +antedating the memory of any one present, but attention split off and +left him talking to a neighbor, who long ago was weary of the sage's +recollections. Wisdom lends its conceit to the aged, and Parker was +very old; and when his neighbor gave him but a tired ear, he turned from +him and boldly demanded the Major's attention, but at this moment the +telegraph operator came in with a dispatch. And now all interests were +centered. The Major tore open the envelope and read aloud the following +from the governor: + +"Troops are at competitive drill in Mississippi. Have ordered them +home." + +The Major stood leaning with his elbow on the top of the clerk's tall +desk. He looked again at the dispatch, reading it to himself, and about +him was the sound of shuffling feet. + +"Well, it won't take them more than twenty-four hours to get home," he +said, "and that will be time enough. But Billy, we'd better not swear +out that warrant till they come." + +"That's wise," said the Judge, a cautious man. "His followers would not +stand to see him taken in by the civil authorities; it's not showy +enough." + +And Parker, speaking up, declared the Judge was right. "I ricollect the +militia come down here once durin' the days of the carpet-baggers, +and----" + +"But let no one speak of the dispatch having been sent to the governor," +said the Judge. "Billy, when the sheriff comes back you'd better tell +him to appoint forthwith at least a hundred deputies." + +"In fact," the Major replied, "every law-abiding man in the county might +be declared a deputy." + +Old Parker found his neighbor and nudged him. "I says to my wife, +'Nancy,' says I, 'whenever you want the right idee, go to John +Cranceford and you'll get it.'" + +"That's all right, Uncle Parker," the irritated man replied. "I don't +give a continental and you needn't keep on coming to me with it." + +"You don't? Then what sort of a man are you?" + +"You boys quit your mowling over there," the county clerk commanded. + +"Major," said the Judge, "the troops will doubtless come by boat and +land near your place. Don't you think it would be a good idea for you to +come over with them? The truth is you know our people are always more or +less prejudiced against militia, and it is therefore best to have a +well-known citizen come along with them." + +"I don't know but that you are right," said the Major. "Yes, I will come +with them." + +He bade the men good day and turned to go, and out into the hall the +Judge came following him. "By the way, Major," said he, "you are of +course willing to take all responsibility; and I'd a little rather you +wouldn't mention my name in connection with the militia's coming down +here, for the ordering out of troops is always looked upon as a sort of +snap judgment." + +"I thought you said that you were not going to run for office again," +the Major bluntly replied. + +The Judge stammered and though the hall was but dimly lighted, the Major +saw that his face was growing red. + +"I have reconsidered that," confessed the politician, "and next season I +shall be a candidate for re-election." + +"And I will oppose you, sir." + +"Oppose me? And why so?" + +"Because you've got no nerve. I believe, sir, that in your smooth way +you once took occasion to say that Gideon Batts was a loud-mouth and +most imprudent man. But, sir, there is more merit in the loud bark of a +dog than in the soft tread of a cat. I will oppose you when the time +comes, but I will shoulder the responsibility of martial law in this +community. Good day, sir." + +"Major----" + +"I said good day, sir." + +The old gentleman strode hotly out to the rack where his horse was tied, +and thereabout was gathered a number of boys, discussing the coming +danger which in their shrewdness they had keenly sniffed. Among them he +distributed pieces of money, wherewith to buy picture books, he said, +but they replied that they were going to buy powder and he smiled upon +them as he mounted his horse to ride away. + +In the road not far distant from the town he met Larnage, the Frenchman. +The day before he would have passed him merely with a nod, as he +scarcely knew him by sight and had forgotten his name; but the hardware +dealer had recalled it and upon it had put an emphasis; so, reining up +his horse, he motioned the man to stop. + +"How long have you been in this neighborhood?" the Major asked. At this +abruptness the Frenchman was astonished. + +"I do not understand," he replied. + +"Yes you do. How long have you been here?" + +"Oh, I understand that, but I do not understand why you should ask." + +"But can't you tell me?" + +"I can be so obliging. I have lived here two years." + +"And how long in the United States?" + +"Ten years. And now will you have the goodness to tell me why you wish +to know? Will you be so kind as I have been?" + +"Well, to be frank, I don't hear a very good report of you." + +"But who is appointed to make a report of me? I attend to my own +business, and is this a bad report to make of a citizen of the country? +If you will have the goodness to pardon me I will ride on." + +"Wait a moment. Why are you buying so many cartridges?" + +The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. "Has not the citizen of the +country a right to spend his money? I have heard that the Major is +polite. He must not be well to-day. Shall I ride on now? Ah, I thank +you." + +Onward the Frenchman rode, and gazing back at him the Major mused: "The +frog-eater gave me the worst of it. But I believe he's a scoundrel all +the same. I didn't get at him in the right way. Sorry I said anything to +him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +Upon reaching home shortly after nightfall the Major found visitors +waiting for him in the library--Wash Sanders, old Gid, Jim Taylor, Low, +and a red bewhiskered neighbor named Perdue. A bright fire was crackling +in the great fire-place; and with stories of early steamboat days upon +the Mississippi, Gid was regaling the company when the hero of the yarn +opened the door and looked in. Getting to their feet with a scuffle and +a clatter of shovel and tongs (which some one knocked down) they cried +him a welcome to his own house. + +"Gentlemen," said the Major, "just wait till I eat a bite and I'll be +with you. Have you all been to supper?" + +"We have all been stuffed," Gid took the liberty to answer, "all but +Wash Sanders and he----" + +"Don't eat enough to keep a chicken alive," Sanders struck in. "Wish I +could eat with you, Major, but I ain't got no relish for vidults. But +I'm glad to know that other folks ain't that bad off. Jest go on and +take your time like we want here waitin' for you." + +While the Major was in the dining-room, Gid came out and told him that +the priest had said to him and to others that it might be well to call +at the Major's house immediately upon his return from Brantly. + +"He's all right," said the Major, getting up and taking the lead toward +the library. And when he had sat down in his chair, bottomed with +sheep-skin, he told his friends of his fears of a negro insurrection, of +the dispatch and of the answer from the governor; and he related his +talk with the Frenchman, whereupon Low, the Englishman, spoke up: + +"I know that chap. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that he put some +rascally black up to the trick of punching that hole in my bath. For a +time he came about my place quite a bit, you know, but I gave him to +understand one day that I vastly preferred to choose my own associates. +And you may rest with the assurance that he will be against the whites. +Ah, with a Frenchman it is never a question as to which side he shall +take. By jove, he always finds out which side the Englishman is on and +then takes the other. I have brought with me a bit of Scotch whisky and +I shall be pleased to have you gentlemen join me." + +"Wait a minute," said the Major. "I have some liquor that was distilled +sixty years ago by the grandfather of the commander of the Alabama. +We'll try that first." + +"Good!" cried the Briton. "I can't deny the Alabama claim, you know." +And then he added: "Most extraordinary, I assure you." + +"Just wait till you smack your mouth on it," said Gid. "Why, sir, +there's the smile of a goddess in each drop and a 'Paradise Regained' in +a swallow. Sit down, Wash Sanders--a swig of it would shoot you into the +air like a rocket." + +"But really, Mr. Gid, I think a little of it would help my appetite," +Sanders replied, looking anxiously toward the Major. + +"Appetite!" Gid cried. "You can eat the hind leg of a rhinoceros right +now." + +"Do you mean to insult me, sir?" Sanders retorted, weakly bristling up; +and the Major turning from the sideboard, with the odd-shaped bottle and +several glasses in his hands, looked at Batts and said: "Don't, Gid." + +"All right, but I was joking," the old rascal declared. "Wash and I +always prank with each other. You can take a joke, can't you, Wash?" + +"With the best of them," Sanders answered. "Yes, sir, and before the +doctors proved to me that I couldn't get well I was joking all the +time." He raised his hand and with his long finger nail scratched his +chin. "But they showed me that I couldn't get well and if that ain't +enough to sadden a man's life I don't know what is." + +"Now, gentlemen," said the Major, "I want you to help yourselves, and +not be afraid, for the glasses are shallow and the bottle is deep." + +The red bewhiskered man Perdue, who had said nothing, took out his quid +of tobacco and with a loud "spat," threw it against the chimney-back. +"I'll join you," he said, grinning. "Never saw any liquor too old for +me." + +They stood and touched glasses. Gid walled his eyes like a steer, and +with a rub of his breast and an "ah-hah," he nodded at Low. "What do you +think of that?" he cried. "Isn't it a miracle?" + +"Ah, it is very smooth," Low answered, sipping. "Most uncommon I should +think." + +"Smooth," said Gid. "Did you say smooth? It is as silk woven in the loom +of a dream. Wash, how does it strike you?" + +"I think it will help me," Sanders answered. + +"Help you!" And under his breath Gid added: "Ought to kill you." + +"What did you say?" Sanders asked. + +"Said it wouldn't kill you." + +"Oh, I think not. Really, after a while I might be tempted to go out and +eat something. How are you gettin' along, Perdue?" + +"Shakin' hands with my grandfather in the speret," Perdue declared, and +running his fingers through his fiery whiskers he laughed with a hack +that cut like the bleat of a sheep. + +"Jim," said the Major, turning to Taylor, who had not left his seat, +"you'd better try a little. It won't hurt you." + +"No, thank you, Major, I'm afraid of it." + +"Let him alone," Gid spoke. "One drink of this and he'd carry off the +gate, posts and all and leave them on the hill. Don't tempt him." + +"Gentlemen," said Perdue, "I have always made it a rule never to repeat +anything that my children say, for I know how such a thing bores folks, +but I will tell you what my son Ab said the other night. His mother was +gettin' him ready for bed--just a little more, Major. There, that's a +plenty. Mother was gettin' him ready for bed and he looked up----" + +"I feel the blood of youth mounting from the feet of the past to the +head of the present," Gid broke in. "I can jump a ten rail fence, staked +and ridered." + +"And I'm pretty jumpy myself," the Major declared. "But what were you +going to say, Perdue?" + +"I was goin' to say that I always make it a rule never to repeat +anything that my children say, for I have often had fellers bore me with +the smart sayin's of their children--and I know that most every man +thinks that his children are the brightest in the country and all +that--but the other night as my wife was gettin' Ab ready for bed he +looked up----" + +"We never had any children at our house," said Wash Sanders, scratching +his chin with his polished finger-nail, "but I jest as good as raised +one nephew. You remember Dan, don't you, Major?" + +"Mighty well. Went to Texas, didn't he?" + +"Yes, and got to cowboyin' around and was killed." + +"I recall that he was a very bright young man," said the Major. "But +what were you going to say, Perdue?" + +"I was goin' to say that I always make it a rule never to tell anything +that my children say, knowin' how it seems to pester folks, for I have +been nearly bored to death by fellers breakin' in and tellin' what they +of course thought was a powerful smart thing, said by one of their +children--so I am mighty keerful about such things, makin' it a rule +never to repeat anything said by my children, but the other night as my +wife was gettin' Ab ready for bed----" + +"Somebody's hollering helloa at the gate," said Jim. "Hush a minute. +There it is again." + +The Major went out and presently returned, bringing with him a large +blue envelope. "It's from the county clerk," he said, sitting down and +breaking the seal. "Brought by a deputy sheriff, and he said that he had +ridden hard all the way and was in a great hurry to get back. Let's see +what old Billy has to say." And now having put on his spectacles, he +read aloud the following: + + "Marcus T. Berry, sheriff of this the county of Cranceford, in the + State of Arkansas, did on this day seek to break up a den of negro + gamblers at Sassafras, in the before mentioned county of + Cranceford, and State as above set forth, and while in the + discharge of his duty, was then and there fired upon and so + desperately wounded that in his home in the town of Brantly, seat + of the said county of Cranceford, State as before mentioned, he now + lies at the point of death. The negroes claimed that they were not + gambling, but engaged in lawful merchandise; but be that as it may, + the sheriff and his posse were there and then fired upon, and + besides the wounding of the sheriff, two men were killed outright, + to-wit, one James Mattox and one Leon Smyers, and the same were + left there. The sheriff managed to make his escape, albeit he was + followed and repeatedly fired upon. And be it known that the report + now reaches here that the atrocity did not cease with the firing on + of the sheriff's posse, but that a sharp fight afterward took place + between negroes and white men near by; and we are now informed that + a strong force of negroes, at the instance of one Mayo, is now + gathering in the southwestern part of the county, preparatory to a + march upon this, the seat of the county of Cranceford. Therefore, + it behooves all good citizens to meet in the before mentioned town + for the defense of life and property, as it is here that the blow + is to fall. + + William N. Haines, + + Clerk of the County of Cranceford, in the State of Arkansas." + +Scarcely observing a pause the Major had read the letter, and no word of +surprise had been spoken by his listeners; and now in silence they +looked at one another, Gid with his mouth open, Sanders with an +expression of pain. + +"Well," said the Major, "that settles it." + +"By jove," the Englishman burst out, "I should rather say unsettles it. +I can't conceive of a settlement on that basis, you know. Those blacks +are positively annoying. First they punch a hole in my bath and then +they fire on a sheriff's party. I should call it a most extraordinary +approach toward the settlement of a difficult problem. But now, +gentlemen, if you'll join me we'll take a bit of Scotch whisky." + +Old Gid looked hard at him. "What?" said he, "insult old Semmes' liquid +music with a hot breath of peat smoke! Never, sir. And consequently I'll +take another glimpse at this mountain sunrise." + +The Englishman laughed. "You have a most extraordinary way of boasting, +you know. You may take your sunrise on the mountain, but I prefer this +moonlight in the heather. A glass about half full of water, please. +Thank you, very kind I assure you." The Briton sat and sipped his Scotch +while the Major paced up and down the room, hands behind him, deep in +thought. But soon he took his chair again, a proof that what now was to +come was not a speculation but the outline of a plan of action. + +"Where's Tom?" he asked, nodding at Gid, but with an eye upon Wash +Sanders. + +"Over at my house," Wash Sanders answered. + +"Well, when you go home, take this message to him. Say that I said go at +once to the neighbors for five miles below your house, along the county +road, and tell them that trouble of a serious nature has come--tell them +to meet, men, women and children, at my house by daylight in the +morning. Have him remind them that his house, on account of its +situation high above the river, is the easiest to defend, and that it +will accommodate more people than any other house in the neighborhood. +Tell the men, of course, to bring their arms and all the ammunition they +have. Explain that a sufficient number of men will be left here to +protect the women and children, while the large majority of us will make +all possible haste to the county seat. Tell the men to come mounted. Now +is it clear to you?" + +"Major," Wash Sanders spoke up with more than his usual show of spirit, +"the doctors have condemned my body but they hain't condemned my mind. +It is clear to me, sir, and I will go now." + +"All right," said the Major. "And Jim," he added, "you do the same with +the upper end of the road." + +The giant was smoking. He stood his pipe against a corner of the +fire-place, got up and without saying a word, strode away. Wash Sanders +was soon gone, after halting at the door to say that he might not be +able to eat enough to keep a setting hen alive, but that he reckoned he +could pull a trigger with any man that ever came over the pike. And now +the Major, old Gid and the Englishman sat looking into the fire. + +"War time, Gid," said the Major. + +"Yes, without banners and without glory," the old fellow replied. + +"You are right. In the opinion of the majority of Americans, bravery on +our part will be set down as a cruelty and a disgrace. The newspaper +press of the north will condemn us. But we can't help that, for a man +must protect his home. Mr. Low, there is nothing so unjust as politics." + +"We have had many examples of it in England, sir." + +"Yes," said the Major, "there have been examples of it everywhere. In +this country political influences have narrowed some of the broadest +minds." + +"In England political prejudices have killed poets," the Englishman +said. + +"And now," Gid put in, "while you are discussing the evil I will try a +little more of the good. John, have another peep at the blue dome +above?" + +"No, I must go and give Mrs. Cranceford old Billy's letter." + +"Won't it alarm her?" the Englishman asked. + +"Oh, not in the least," the Major answered, and old Gid smiled. "You +couldn't scare her with a bell-mouth blunderbuss," he declared. + +The Major now had reached the door, but turning back he said: "You +gentlemen better sleep here to-night." + +In a state of apparent alarm the Englishman sprang to his feet. "My +bath," he cried. "No, I can't stop. I must have my bath." + +"But you can bathe here." + +"Oh, no, I must have my own tub, you know. But I shall be here early at +morning. I must go now. Good night," he added, reaching the door. "You +are very kind, I assure you." And when thus he had taken his leave, the +Major, pointing at a lamp, said to Gid: "End room down the porch. Go to +bed." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Early at morning, just as the dawn began to pale the sandy bluffs along +the shore, and while the cypress bottoms still lay under the blackness +of night, there came the trampling of horses, the low tones of men, the +sharp, nervous voices of women, and the cries of children untimely +gathered from their trundle-beds. The Major and his wife were ready to +receive this overflow of company. A spliced table was stretched nearly +the full length of the long hall, and a great kettle of coffee was +blubbering on the fire. There were but three negroes on the place, one +man and two women--the others had answered a call at midnight and had +gone away. But the remaining ones were faithful; at a drowsy hour they +left their beds and with no word of complaint took it upon themselves to +execute a new and hurried task. "Bill," said the Major, "I want you and +your wife and Polly to understand that I never forget such faithfulness +as you are now showing, and when I come back--but now is the best time. +Here are ten dollars apiece for you and you must remember that as long +as I live you shall never want for anything." + +Fifty men arrived before the east was flushed with the sun. It was +decided that ten of these, including Wash Sanders, should be left to +protect the women and children. The least active were chosen. All but +the younger ones had followed Lee through the dark days of his last +campaign. The Major took command and martial law prevailed. He buckled +on no sword but he looked like a soldier; and short, sharp sentences +that he had forgotten at the close of the war now came back to him. + +"Make ready, men. Time passes. Mount." + +There were pale faces in the hall and at the gate where the men sat +their horses, ready to ride, but there was bravery and no tears. The +command was drawn up; the Major, not yet mounted, stood talking to Wash +Sanders, when suddenly down the road a chant arose. All eyes were turned +that way, and strange to them was the sight they beheld--the Catholic +priest, with slow and solemn pace, treading the middle of the road, +holding high aloft a black crucifix; and behind him followed the negro +members of his church, men, women and children. He was leading his +people to the hills--out of danger. As the head of this weird procession +came opposite the gate, where now the Major stood with folded arms, the +priest gravely smiled and higher held his crucifix. And then, silently, +and looking neither to the right nor to the left, came out the three +negroes who had remained at home; and taking up the chant they joined +their brothers and sisters. They marched solemnly onward, turned into a +road that led to the hills, the wind hushing their chant, but the black +cross still seen high above their dusky, upturned faces. For full five +minutes the Major stood in silence, gazing, and then hastily mounting, +he shouted: "Forward!" and his troop swept down the road. He chose the +nearest course and it lay by the old house wherein Louise had lived; and +again he heard the wind moaning in the ragged plum thicket. + +Along the road the scattered houses were deserted, and in many a cabin +the fire-place was cold, and many a door stood open. Not a negro was +seen--yes, one, an old man drawn with rheumatism, sitting on a bench, +waiting for the sun to warm his joints. + +When the Major and his troop rode into the town they found it +quiet--under the weight of a heavy dread. They were looked upon from +windows, where men were posted, waiting; and obeying a shouted +instruction, the Major led his men to a long, low shed not far from the +scene of expected blood-flow, to stable their horses. Following them +came old Billy, the county clerk; and when the horses had been put away, +he came up and thus addressed the Major: + +"You are to take command." + +"All right. What has been done?" + +"Not much of anything. Nothing could be done except to wait." + +"How many men have we?" + +"It is surprising how few," old Billy answered. "We didn't realize how +weak the white population was until danger came. We have about three +hundred, and more than a thousand negroes are marching on the town. We +held a sort of council this morning and agreed that we'd better post as +many as we can in the court-house. It commands all the streets and +besides we must save the records." + +They were now marching toward the court-house. "Where are the women and +children?" the Major inquired. + +"In the brick warehouse with a force of men near." + +"Well, I suppose you've done all you can. It would be nonsense to engage +them in the open, but with our men posted about the square not more than +two-thirds of them can get action at once. Those poor devils are as well +armed as we and are wrought upon by fanaticism. It is going to be +desperate for a time. At first they'll be furious. Has any one heard of +Mayo?" + +"He's at their head and the Frenchman is with him." + +"How is the sheriff?" + +"Dead." + +They filed into the court-house, where a number of men were already +gathered, posted above and below. "Bring an axe and cut loop-holes," the +Major commanded. "When the fight begins you can't very well fire from +the windows. How are you, Uncle Parker?" + +"Able to be about, Major. You wan't old enough for the Mexican War, was +you? No, of course not. But I was there and this here fightin' agin such +odds puts me in mind of it." + +"Good morning, Major." It was the voice of the County Judge. + +"Good morning, sir. I see you have a gun. Don't you think it impolitic? +But pardon me. This is no time for ill-humored banter." + +The Judge bowed. "Now I recall John Cranceford, the soldier," said he. +"This is a great pity that has come upon us, Major," he added. + +"Worse than that," the Major replied. "It is a curse. The first man who +landed a slave in America ought to have been hanged." + +"And what about the men who freed them?" + +"They were American soldiers, sir, as brave a body of men as ever trod +the face of the earth. Captain Batts, what are you trying to do there?" + +"Thought I'd take a nap," old Gid answered. "You can wake me up when the +fight begins--don't want to miss it." + +"If you go to sleep I will court-martial you, sir. Superintend the +cutting of the loop-holes." + +"All right, don't believe I'm very sleepy anyway;" and as he shuffled +away the Englishman turned to the Major and asked: + +"And is he game, sir?" + +"As a lion," the Major answered. + +"But he blows, you know," said the Englishman. + +"And so does a lion roar, sir," the Major rejoined. + +The Major inspected the other posts, to the right and left of the +square, and then took active command of the lower floor of the +court-house; and when the holes had been cut Gid was told to command the +floor above. Tom Cranceford was ordered to serve on the floor above. At +this he began to grumble, pouting that he couldn't be in the rush if one +should come; but the Major stormed at him. "It is more dangerous up +there if that's what you want, and I'll be with you now and then to see +that you are kept busy. March this instant or I'll drive you to home +duty under Wash Sanders." + +From the windows and the loop-holes guns could be seen bristling +everywhere, and the minutes that passed were slow and weary with +waiting. Directly across from the court-house was a broad and low brick +store house, with but a single window above, facing the square; and the +Major looking at it for a time, turned to the old clerk and said: "That +building is the strongest one in town, but no men appear to be posted in +it. Why so?" + +"The rear wall is torn out and the men would be unprotected from +behind," the clerk answered. "The wall was pulled down about a month +ago. Evans was going to have the house built deeper into the lot so he +could use it as a cotton shed, but hasn't." + +"Bad that it was left that way. How long since the last scout came in?" + +"About an hour and a half." + +"And where was the enemy then?" + +"In the neighborhood of Gum Springs." + +"That's bad. The militia won't have time to get here." + +The Major went above, where he found Gid's men posted at the windows and +the loop-holes. "How is everything?" he asked. + +"Lovely, John." + +"Don't call me John." + +"All is well, Major." + +"Good." And after a time he added: "The south road is so crooked that we +don't command it very far, therefore look sharp. Back to your post!" he +stormed as Perdue looked up from his loop-hole. "This is no time for +idleness." + +"I wonder what time we eat," said Gid. + +"You may never eat another bite," the Major answered. + +"Then I don't reckon there's any use to worry about it, John, or Major, +I mean." + +The Major returned to the floor below. "This is getting to be quite a +lark," said the Englishman. "It's beastly cruel to fight, but after all +it is rather jolly, you know." + +"I'm glad you think so, sir; I can't," the Major replied. "I regard it +as one of the worst calamities that ever befell this country." + +"Do you think there will be much pillage by the blacks--much burning of +houses?" + +"Possibly, but to sustain their cause their commander will hold them in +some sort of check. He is looking out for the opinion of labor unions, +the scoundrel. He is too sharp to give his war a political cast." + +"Ah, but to butcher is a beastly way to look after good opinion. What's +that?" the Englishman cried. + +From afar, through the stillness that lay along the south road, came the +popping of rifles; and then all was still. Then came the sounds of +hoofs, and then a riderless horse dashed across the square. + +"Steady, men, they are upon us!" the Major shouted, and then all again +was still. From the windows nothing could be seen down the road, and yet +the advance guard must be near, for a gun was fired much closer than +before. Now upon the square a rider dashed, and waving his hat he +cried: "They are coming through the fields!" He dismounted, struck his +horse with his hat to drive him out of danger and ran into the +court-house. The Major met him. "They will be here in no time," the man +said. "But how they got so close without my seeing them is a mystery to +me. But of course I expected to see them in the road and didn't look for +them in the fields. And that ain't all. They've got a cannon." + +"What!" the Major exclaimed, and the men at the loop-holes looked back +at him. + +"Yes," the scout went on, "and I know all about it. Just before the war +ended an enormous gun was spiked, dismantled and thrown into a well way +down on the Dinkler place. It was got out a good while afterward and the +spike drilled out, and since then it has been used for a Christmas gun. +Well, they've got that thing on an ox wagon, but they've got no way to +fire it for----" + +The guns to the right and left of the square blurted out, then came a +roar and a yell, and in an instant the opposite side of the square was +black with negroes pouring out from behind the low brick building. With +a howl and a rush they came, but from three sides volley after volley +was poured into them, the white men using their shot guns. The effect +was terrible, and soon the square was cleared of all but the dead and +the wounded. A cessation fell, and Mayo's voice could be heard, +shouting at his men. He saw that to attempt to take the house by storm +was certain death, so to comparative safety behind the house and into a +deep-cut road a little farther back he withdrew his men. He had not +expected so early to find such opposition, and his aim was to crush with +the senseless weight of force, but the shot-guns were too deadly. Now he +was cool and cautious. The fire from the whites was straggling. Suddenly +out from behind the brick building rushed three black giants, torches in +hand, making desperately for the court-house. It was indeed a forlorn +hope, for one by one they fell, the last, so death-defying was he, that +he fell upon the steps and his torch flew from his hand into the hallway +and crackled on the floor. A man reached out to grasp it, but a +shattered arm was drawn back. "Not you, Major!" cried old Parker. +Outward he leaned, grabbing at the torch, but Mayo's guns swept the +hall. And when they drew the old man back, he brought the snapping pine, +but left his life. They laid him out upon the floor, stood for a moment +sadly to view him; and through a hole a bullet zipped and beside him +fell a neighbor. + +"Back to your places!" the Major commanded. Now the guns on the opposite +side of the square were silent. "They are lying low and our men can't +reach them," said the Major. "What are they up to now? Preparing for +another charge?" + +"Worse than that," said the man who had seen them in the fields. "They +have hoisted that cannon up into the brick building and are going to +poke it through the window. See there! See that big log up-ended? That's +to brace it. From where I lay I saw them just now breaking up an old +stove out in the lot and they are going to load with the fragments. I +killed two of them, but they got the stove away. Listen, don't you hear +them pounding it up?" + +"And this house will afford no more protection that so much paper," said +the Major, speaking low. "We have badly planned our defense. We are ill +protected from bullets, and a cannon will blow us into the air." And +then, moving from one to another, he looked through the loop-holes. +"Train every gun on that window," he commanded, "and shoot if a finger +is seen." Up the stairs he bounded. Old Gid was walking up and down the +room, softly whistling. "Pretty peppery, Major," he said, pointing to +three bodies stretched upon the floor. + +"Yes," the Major replied, "and it will be worse. We are doomed." + +"How so? Keep on rushing till they wear us out? I reckon not. It would +take five thousand men. God, but look at them lying out there. They were +desperate, but they are toned down." + +"They've got a cannon loaded with the fragments of a stove and will +fire it from that window," said the Major. + +Gid whistled and resumed his walk. The firing about the square was slow +and steady. From across the way there came no gun shot. "Got a cannon, +eh?" old Gid mused. "I wondered why they were so still," and then to the +Major he said: "They'll shell us out and mow us down at their leisure. +Who built this infernal court-house?" + +"I don't remember," the Major answered, "but he ought to be in here now. +Train your guns on that window." + +The Major went below. Just as he reached the bottom of the stairway he +leaped forward with a cry. He saw Jim Taylor jump from a window out upon +the square. The Major ran to a loop-hole, pushed a man aside and looked +out. And now there was a belching of guns on the other side. Jim Taylor +caught up a child in his arms, and with bullets pecking up the dirt +about him and zipping against the wall, he dodged behind a corner of the +house. Then he ran across the protected side of the square. Near by, in +the door of a warehouse, a woman stood, shrieking. When she saw the +giant with her little boy in his arms she ran out to meet him, breaking +loose from the hands that strove to hold her, and snatching the little +fellow, she cried: "God bless you for this. I have so many little ones +to see to that he got out and went to look for his grandpa Parker. God +bless you, sir." + +The giant had seen old Parker lying dead on the floor, but he said +nothing; he turned about, and entering the court-house from the +protected side, was soon at his post. The Major stormed at him. "You've +lost all your sense," he cried. "You are a bull-calf, sir. Now see that +you don't leave your post again. Did they hit you?" he anxiously asked. + +"Don't believe they did," the giant grimly answered. + +"Well, they will in a minute. Look there!" + +The mouth of the cannon showed above the window, shoved through and now +rested on the ledge; and behind it arose an enormous log. From the +loop-holes in the court-house the gun was raked with buck-shot, but all +the work was done from below and no one stood exposed. Once a hand, like +a black bat, was seen upon the gun, but instantly it flew away, leaving +a blotch of blood. And now the old bell, so quiet all the morning, began +to strike--one, two, ten, thirty--slowly, with dread and solemn pauses. + +"Look!" the Major cried. A red-hot poker glowed above the cannon. +Buckshot hailed from a hundred guns, and the poker fell, but soon it +came again and this time flat upon the gun. The hand that held it was +nervous and fumbling. Suddenly the breech of the gun slipped lower down +the upright log. Up went the muzzle, and then came a deafening boom. +There was a crash over-head. The cupola of the court-house was +shattered, and down came the bell upon the roof, and off it rolled and +fell upon the ground with a clang. Out surged Mayo's men, but a fearful +volley met them, and amid loud cries and with stumbling over the dead +and the dying, torn and bleeding, they were driven back. But they set up +a yell when they saw the damage their gun had wrought. They could +foresee the havoc of a better managed fire. Now the yells were hushed. +The Major's men could hear a black Vulcan hammering his iron; then a +lesser noise--they were driving the scraps into the gun. + +"It will be worse this time," said the Major. "They have cut a deeper +niche in the log to hold the breech and there'll be no chance of its +slipping. These walls will be shattered like an eggshell. Steady, they +are at it." + +Again the gun lay across the window ledge. The red-hot poker bobbed up, +glowing in the dim light, but there was a crash and a rain of shot and +it flew back out of sight; and it must have been hurled through the rear +opening of the wall, for they were a long time in getting it. But it +came again, this time sparkling with white heat. The guns about the +square kept up an incessant fire, but over the powder the poker bobbed, +and then--the whole town shook with the terrific jar, and windows +showered their glass upon the street, and through the smoke a thrilling +sight was seen--the roof of the brick building was blown into splinters +and in the air flew boots, hats and the fragments of men--the gun had +exploded. + +"Out and charge!" the Major shouted. "Forward, Captain Batts!" he cried +at the foot of the stairs, and the men came leaping down. The cry was +taken up, and from every building about the square the men were pouring. +Mayo had no time to rally his force; indeed, it was beyond his power, +for his men were panic-smitten. Into the fields and toward the woods +they ran for their lives. It was now a chase. Bang, to right and the +left, and in the fields the fleeing blacks were falling, one by one. +Once or twice they strove to make a stand, but hell snorted in their +faces--and death barked at their heels. In their terror they were swift, +but from afar the rifles sucked their blood. The woods were gained and +now they were better protected in their flight, dodging from tree to +tree; some of them faced about and white men fell, and thus was caution +forced upon the pursuers. So much time was gained that Mayo rallied the +most of his men, but not to stand and fight. He had another plan. In a +small open space, once a cotton patch, stood a large church, built of +logs, and thither he hastened his men, and therein they found a +fortress. The Major called in his scattered forces. They gathered in the +woods about the church. + +"Are you going to charge them?" old Gideon asked. + +"No, sir, that would be certain death to many of us. Hemmed in as they +now are they'll be deadly desperate. We'll have to manage it some other +way." A shower of buck-shot flew from the church. + +"I gad, Major, they've got buck-shot," said Gid. "And they could mow us +down before we could cross that place. They still outnumber us two to +one--packed in there like sardines. Don't you think we'd better scatter +about and peck at 'em when they show an eye? I'd like to know who built +that church. Confound him, he cut out too many windows to suit me." + +"Dodge down, men!" cried the Major. "Mr. Low, get back there, sir!" + +"Be so kind as to oblige me with the time," said Low. "The rascals have +smashed my watch. Punch a hole in my bath and then ruin my watch, you +know. Most extraordinary impudence, I assure you." + +"It is half-past three," said the Major. "And what a day it has been and +it is not done yet." + +Jim Taylor came forward. "Look out," said the Major. "They'll get you +the first thing you know. Why don't you pick up a few grains of sense +as you go along?" + +"Why don't some one scatter a few grains?" + +"Hush, sir. I want no back talk from you." + +"But I've got an idea," said the giant, with a broad grin. + +"Out with it." + +"Why, right over yonder is the Nelson plantation store-house," said Jim, +"and at the front end is the biggest door I ever saw, double oak and so +thickly studded with wrought-iron nails that their broad heads touch. +And my idea is this: Take that door, cut a round hole in the center with +a cold-chisel, cut down a good-sized cypress tree, round off one end, +fit it in the hole, with about five feet sticking through; let a lot of +us strong fellows gather up the tree and, protected by the door, use it +for a battering ram and punch that house down. Then we can work them +freely, as the fellow says." + +"Jim," the Major cried, "you are learning something. This day has +developed you. I believe that can be done. At least it is worth trying. +But, men, if it should be effective, let there be as little unnecessary +slaughter as possible. We are compelled to kill--well, we can't help it. +However, take Mayo alive if you possibly can. I want to see him hanged +on the public square. Now get the door. Here, Tom, you and Low cut down +a cypress tree. Here, Lacy, you help. Low doesn't know how to handle an +ax. We'd better begin operations over there on the left. There are fewer +windows on that side. We can batter down the door. No, there is a high +window above the door and they could shoot down upon us. That won't do. +We'll take the left side. See, there are but two windows, both close +together near the end. Look out, boys. Keep behind the trees. I wonder +how solid those logs are. When was that church built, Captain Batts?" + +"Don't remember the exact time, but not so very long ago. I recollect +that there was talk of a probable extension, the time that new +revivalist was having the house built, and that must account for the few +windows toward this end on the left. They've got a first-rate place to +shoot from, but what astonishes me is that Mayo should want to make a +stand when he must know that we'll get him sooner or later." + +"That's easily explained," said the scout who had dashed upon the public +square. "They are looking for a large body of reinforcements from the +south, and Mayo knows what to expect if he should run, panic-stricken, +into them. His only hope was in making a stand." + +"Where is Perdue?" the Major asked, looking about, from one tree to +another. + +"He fell back yonder in the field," old Gid answered. "I ran to him, +but he must have been dead by the time he hit the ground." + +The Major said nothing. He stood leaning against a tree looking toward +Jim and four other men coming with the heavy door. + +"And old Billy," said Gid, "is----" + +The Major turned about. "Well," he broke in. + +"You know," said Gid, "we used to say that he always had a blot of ink +on his head. But now he's lying back yonder with a spot of blood where +the ink was." + +The Major called to Jim: "Put it down there." And then speaking to Gid +he added: "That scoundrel must pay for this. Don't shoot him--don't even +break his legs--I want to see them dangle in front of the court-house +door." + +With a chisel and a hammer the giant worked, on his knees, and it was +almost like cutting through solid iron. The echo of his heavy blows +rumbled afar off throughout the timber-land. + +The detail of men came with the log, the body of a cypress tree, one end +smoothly rounded. Jim took his measurements and proceeded with his work. +Once he had to drag the door to a better-sheltered spot. Bullets from +the church were pecking up the dirt about him. Three times the piece of +timber was tried, to find that the hole in the door was not quite large +enough, but at last it went through and the giant smiled at the neatness +of the work. And now the ram was ready. The firing from the church had +fallen and all was silent. + +"It will take about eight men, four on a side--all strong young +fellows," said Taylor. "You old men stand back. Major, order Captain +Batts to let go the log." + +"Captain Batts, turn loose," the Major commanded. "You are too old for +such work." + +With a sigh old Gid stepped back, and sadly he looked upon the young men +as they took their places. "Yes, I'm getting old, John, but you needn't +keep telling me of it." + +"Sir, didn't I tell you not to call me John?" + +"Yes, but I thought you'd forgotten it." + +Taylor and the Englishman were side by side, the log between them. Auger +holes had been bored in the shaft and strong oak pins had been driven in +to serve for handles. + +"Remember to keep a tight grip on your handle," said Jim. + +"I warrant that," the Briton replied. "Are we all ready? Really quite a +lark, you know." + +A stable had stood at the left boundary of the field, and one wall, cut +down, was now a part of the fence. Circling about to avoid the +undergrowth and at the same time to keep out of Mayo's range, the men +with the ram came up behind the old wall; and here they were halted to +wait until the Major properly placed his marksmen. He made the circuit +of the field, and coming back, announced that all was ready. A score of +shot-guns were trained upon the two windows that looked out upon the +space between the stable wall and the church. Over the wall the door was +lifted, and the shot-guns roared, for the negroes had opened fire from +the windows, but necessary caution marred the effect of their aim. +Without a mishap the ram was lowered into the field. And now forward it +went, slowly at first, but faster and faster, the men on a run, the +lower edge of the door sweeping the old cotton stalks. Faster, with a +yell, and the men about the field stood ready to charge. Shot-guns +blazed from the windows, and shot like sharp sleet rattled off the heavy +nail-heads in the door. Faster, and with a stunning _bim_ the ram was +driven against the house. But the logs lay firm. Back again, thirty +feet, another run and a ram, but the logs were firm. From the windows, +almost directly in front, the buck-shot poured, and glancing about, +plucked up the dirt like raindrops in a dusty road. Once more, back +still further, and again they drove with head-long force. The house +shook, the roof trembled, but the logs were sound and stubbornly lay in +place. Back again, but this time not to stop. "To the fence," Jim +ordered. A shout came from the church. The Major stamped the ground. +"Keep your places and wait for me," said Jim to his men. He leaped the +stable wall. "Here, young fellow," he called, "run over to that +store-house and bring a can of coal-oil. I was a fool not to think of +this before. Why, even if we were to batter down the house they would +kill us before our men could get there. Where is that axe?" + +He seized the axe and began to split a dry pine log. Every one +understood his plan; no one spoke. He split his kindling fine, whittled +off shavings with his knife, and gathering up his faggots waited for the +oil. The young fellow returned, running. Jim snatched the can and sprang +over the fence. The Englishman smiled when he took his place. "Really +you have quite an odd fancy, you know," he said. + +"Once more and easy," Jim commanded. "And may the Lord have mercy on +them. But it has to be done." + +Onward they went, leaning inward, treading slowly, and shot was sleeted +at them from the windows. But there was no quickening step as the house +was neared--it was a dead march. At a corner of the church they halted, +and Jim, putting down his oil can, close to the wall, piled his faggots +about it, and then, striking a match, set fire to the shavings. + +"Back!" he commanded. + +They reached the stable wall and stood there. The guns were silent. +Eagerly every one was gazing. Was the fire dying down? One long minute, +and then a dull explosion. A column of flame shot high into the air, a +rain of fire spattered down upon the church, and the roof was ablaze. +The white men, ready with their guns, heard a trampling and the +smothered cries of horror; and then the church door flew open and out +poured Mayo and his men. Three times they charged an opening in the line +about the fence, but unseen foes sprang up and mowed them down. But at +the last, fighting, desperate, yelling, they broke out of the +slaughter-pen and once more were in the woods. And now it was not even a +chase. It was a still-hunt. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI.--CONCLUSION. + + +Late in the afternoon, the news of the rout and the slaughter was +received at the Cranceford home. All day Wash Sanders and his men had +been sitting about, speculating, with but one stir of excitement, the +boom of Mayo's cannon. But this soon died away and they sat about, +swapping lies that were white with the mildew of time. But when news +came they sprang astir for now they knew that each man must look after +his own home, to protect it from fire. Some of them offered to remain, +but Mrs. Cranceford dismissed them, assuring them that her house, being +so public, was in no danger. So she was left, not alone, but with a +score of women and children. + +Afar off the guns could be heard, not in volleys, but the slow and fatal +firing of men taking aim. The sun was nearly down when a man climbed +over the fence and cautiously walked toward the house. In his hand he +held a pine torch. Mrs. Cranceford grabbed a gun and ran out upon the +porch. + +"What are you doing there?" she demanded. + +Larnage, the Frenchman, looked up at her and politely bowed. + +"What are you doing there?" she repeated. + +"Ah, is it possible that Madam does not suspect?" he replied, slowly +turning his fire-brand, looking at the blaze as it licked the stewing +turpentine. + +"Yes, I do suspect, you villain, and if you don't throw down that torch +this instant I'll blow your head off." + +She brought the gun to her shoulder. He saw her close one eye, taking +aim, and he stepped back and let his torch fall to the ground. "It shall +be as Madam wishes," he said. + +"Now you get out of this yard." + +"Madam has but to command." + +He passed through the gate and turned down the road; and upon him she +kept a steady eye. She saw him leave the road and go into the woods. + +Not far away was a potato-house, built over a cellar. To this frail +structure he set fire. The dry timbers soon fell into the pit, and he +stood there as if to warm himself. Night was his time for real work and +he would wait. The sun was almost down. He turned away, and looking +along the road that wound through the woods, he saw old Gideon coming. +Quickly he hastened to the road-side and stood behind a tree, with a +knife in his hand. Gid came slowly along. And just as he came abreast +of the tree, his pop-eyes saw the fellow. He threw up his arm and caught +the knife on the barrel of his gun; then leaping, with the gun clubbed, +he struck at the Frenchman, but the fellow was too quick for him. "Oh, +if I only had a cartridge!" the old man said with a groan, running after +him. "I'd rather have a load of shot right now than a mortgage on +Jerusalem. But I'll follow you--I'll get you." + +Larnage was running, looking back, expecting to be shot; and stubbing +his toe he fell--head-long into the potato-cellar, into the pit of +red-hot coals. Ashes and a black smoke arose, and with frightful cries +he scrambled out, and with his charred clothes falling off him, he ran +to the bayou and plunged headforemost into the water. Gid saw him sink +and rise; saw him sink again; and long he waited, but the man did not +rise again. + + * * * * * + +Down along the bayou where negro cabins were thickly set, fires were +springing up; and there, running from place to place, following white +men who bore torches, was Father Brennon. + +"Don't burn this house!" he cried. "It belongs to the church." + +"Damn the church!" a man replied. + +"But this house belongs to an innocent man--he would not seek to kill +the whites--he's gone to the hills." + +"I reckon you are right," said the man, and onward he ran, waving his +torch, the priest keeping close behind him. + + * * * * * + +From the woods the men were coming, and as Gid drew near to the +Cranceford house he saw Jim Taylor passing through the gate; and a few +moments later, turning a corner of the porch, he found the giant +standing there with his arm about--Louise. + +"Ho, the young rabbit!" the old man cried. + +"Frog," she laughed, running forward and giving him both her hands. + +"Why, how did you get here?" he asked. + +"I heard that the militia had been ordered home and I got here as soon +as I could. I have been home about two hours and mother and I--but where +is father?" + +"Hasn't he come yet? Why, I thought he was here. We've all been +scattered since the last stand." + +"I will go and look for him," said the giant, taking up his gun from +against the wall. + +"I'm going with you," Louise declared. "Go on in the house, Uncle +Gideon, and don't tell mother where I'm gone. Now, you needn't say a +word--I'm going." + +Down the road they went, and out into the woods. Far away they saw the +cabins blazing, on the banks of the bayou, and occasionally a gun was +heard, a dull bark, deep in the woods. + +"You'd better go back," said Jim. + +"No, I'm going with you. Oh, but this must have been an awful day--but +let us not talk about it now." And after a time she said: "And you +didn't suspect that I was doing newspaper work. They tell me that I did +it well, too." + +"I read a story in a newspaper that reminded me of you," he said. "It +was called 'The Wing of a Bird.' It was beautiful." + +"I didn't think so," she replied. + +"Probably you didn't read it carefully," said he. + +"I didn't read it carefully enough before I handed it in, I'm afraid," +she replied. + +"Oh, and did you write it?" He looked down at her and she nodded her +head. "Yes, and I find that I do better with stories than at anything +else," she said. "I have three accepted in the North and I have a book +under way. That was the trouble with me, Jim; I wanted to write and I +didn't know what ailed me, I was a crank." + +"You are an angel." + +He was leading her by the hand, and she looked up at him, but said +nothing. + +Just in front of them they saw the dying glow of a cabin in coals. A +long clump of bushes hid the spot from view. They passed the bushes, +looking to the left, and suddenly the girl screamed. Not more than +twenty yards away stood the Major, with his back against a +tree--gripping the bent barrel of a gun; and ten feet from him stood +Mayo, slowly raising a pistol. She screamed and snatched the giant's gun +and fired it. Mayo wheeled about, dropped his pistol, clutched his bare +arm, and with the blood spouting up between his fingers he turned to +flee. Two white men sprang out in from of him, and the Major shouted: +"Don't kill him--he is to be hanged on the public square. I was trying +to take him alive--and had to knock down two of his men. Tie him." + +He held out his arms to Louise, and with her head on his breast and with +mischief in her eyes, she looked up and said: "I have more than a +daughter's claim on you. I have the claim of gallantry and upon this I +base my plea." + +He rebuked her with a hug and a kiss, saying not a word; but big Jim, +standing there, turned about, laughing. + +"What are you snorting at, Goliath? Has a David at last sunk a joke into +your head? Come, let us go to the house." + +"Father," said Louise, "I am going to show you how much I love you. And +oh, how I longed to rest in your arms the time you held them out to me, +in that desolate hall, the night of death; but I knew that if I yielded +I would go back to the nest with my wings untried. I had to go away. I +will tell you all about it, and I know that you will not be ashamed of +me." + +Silently they took their way homeward, choosing a shorter route; and +coming upon an oozy place in the woods, Jim said to Louise: "I'm going +to carry you in my arms." He did not wait for her to protest, but +gathered her in his arms, and her head lay upon his shoulder. + +"Do you want my love to build a mansion for your heart?" he whispered. + +She put her arm about his neck. + +They came out into the hard road, and still he carried her, with her +arms tight about his neck. The Major looked on with a sad smile, for the +sights of the day were still red before his eyes. But banteringly, he +said: "First time I ever saw this hard road so muddy." + +Louise laughed, whispered to Jim and he eased her to the ground. + +"Why, they've burnt Wash Sanders' house!" the Major cried. "See, over +there?" + +They came opposite the place where the house had stood, and the Major +suddenly drawing back, said to Jim: "Lead her around that way. She +mustn't see this and she mustn't ask what it is." + +Jim led her away, and the Major looked at Wash Sanders. Across a low +rail fence his body lay, his hands drooping to the ground, and in front +of him lay a gun that had fallen from his grasp; and a short distance +away the Major found a mulatto, lying dead beside the road. + +At the Major's house the women were preparing supper. The hungry men, +some of them bleeding, had assembled in the yard. Darkness had fallen. + +"Father," said Tom, coming forward, leading Sallie Pruitt by the hand, +"mother says that this girl shall live with us." + +"Yes," said the old man, putting his hands on Sallie's cheeks and +kissing her. "Yes, my dear, you shall live with us." And turning to Low, +he said: "You are a brave man. My hand, sir." And Low, grasping the old +man's hand, replied: "I am an Englishman, and my father is a gentleman." + +"Gid," said the Major, "my name is John, God bless you." + +Down the road arose sharp words of command, and the burning top of a +tall pine snag threw its light upon bayonets in the highway. The +soldiers were come. + +"I wonder what is to be the end of this day's beginning," said the +Englishman. + +"God only knows," the Major replied. + + + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's An Arkansas Planter, by Opie Percival Read + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ARKANSAS PLANTER *** + +***** This file should be named 19107.txt or 19107.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/1/0/19107/ + +Produced by David Garcia, Stacy Brown and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +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 +http://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 http://www.pglaf.org. + + +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. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. 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 http://pglaf.org + +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 http://pglaf.org + +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 checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is 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: + + http://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/19107.zip b/19107.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b18ed10 --- /dev/null +++ b/19107.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..5b22981 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #19107 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19107) |
