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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Knight of the Cumberland + +Author: John Fox Jr. + +Release Date: July 6, 2008 [EBook #324] +Last Updated: March 14, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND *** + + + + +Produced by Mike Lough, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By John Fox, Jr. + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. THE BLIGHT IN THE HILLS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. ON THE WILD DOG'S TRAIL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. THE AURICULAR TALENT OF THE HON. + SAMUEL BUDD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. CLOSE QUARTERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. BACK TO THE HILLS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. THE GREAT DAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII. AT LAST—THE TOURNAMENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII. THE KNIGHT PASSES </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. THE BLIGHT IN THE HILLS + </h2> + <p> + High noon of a crisp October day, sunshine flooding the earth with the + warmth and light of old wine and, going single-file up through the jagged + gap that the dripping of water has worn down through the Cumberland + Mountains from crest to valley-level, a gray horse and two big mules, a + man and two young girls. On the gray horse, I led the tortuous way. After + me came my small sister—and after her and like her, mule-back, rode + the Blight—dressed as she would be for a gallop in Central Park or + to ride a hunter in a horse show. + </p> + <p> + I was taking them, according to promise, where the feet of other women + than mountaineers had never trod—beyond the crest of the Big Black—to + the waters of the Cumberland—the lair of moonshiner and feudsman, + where is yet pocketed a civilization that, elsewhere, is long ago gone. + This had been a pet dream of the Blight's for a long time, and now the + dream was coming true. The Blight was in the hills. + </p> + <p> + Nobody ever went to her mother's house without asking to see her even when + she was a little thing with black hair, merry face and black eyes. Both + men and women, with children of their own, have told me that she was, + perhaps, the most fascinating child that ever lived. There be some who + claim that she has never changed—and I am among them. She began + early, regardless of age, sex or previous condition of servitude—she + continues recklessly as she began—and none makes complaint. Thus was + it in her own world—thus it was when she came to mine. On the way + down from the North, the conductor's voice changed from a command to a + request when he asked for her ticket. The jacketed lord of the dining-car + saw her from afar and advanced to show her to a seat—that she might + ride forward, sit next to a shaded window and be free from the glare of + the sun on the other side. Two porters made a rush for her bag when she + got off the car, and the proprietor of the little hotel in the little town + where we had to wait several hours for the train into the mountains gave + her the bridal chamber for an afternoon nap. From this little town to “The + Gap” is the worst sixty-mile ride, perhaps, in the world. She sat in a + dirty day-coach; the smoke rolled in at the windows and doors; the cars + shook and swayed and lumbered around curves and down and up gorges; there + were about her rough men, crying children, slatternly women, tobacco + juice, peanuts, popcorn and apple cores, but dainty, serene and as merry + as ever, she sat through that ride with a radiant smile, her keen black + eyes noting everything unlovely within and the glory of hill, tree and + chasm without. Next morning at home, where we rise early, no one was + allowed to waken her and she had breakfast in bed—for the Blight's + gentle tyranny was established on sight and varied not at the Gap. + </p> + <p> + When she went down the street that day everybody stared surreptitiously + and with perfect respect, as her dainty black plumed figure passed; the + post-office clerk could barely bring himself to say that there was no + letter for her. The soda-fountain boy nearly filled her glass with syrup + before he saw that he was not strictly minding his own business; the + clerk, when I bought chocolate for her, unblushingly added extra weight + and, as we went back, she met them both—Marston, the young engineer + from the North, crossing the street and, at the same moment, a drunken + young tough with an infuriated face reeling in a run around the corner + ahead of us as though he were being pursued. Now we have a volunteer + police guard some forty strong at the Gap—and from habit, I started + for him, but the Blight caught my arm tight. The young engineer in three + strides had reached the curb-stone and all he sternly said was: + </p> + <p> + “Here! Here!” + </p> + <p> + The drunken youth wheeled and his right hand shot toward his hip pocket. + The engineer was belted with a pistol, but with one lightning movement and + an incredibly long reach, his right fist caught the fellow's jaw so that + he pitched backward and collapsed like an empty bag. Then the engineer + caught sight of the Blight's bewildered face, flushed, gripped his hands + in front of him and simply stared. At last he saw me: + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he said, “how do you do?” and he turned to his prisoner, but the + panting sergeant and another policeman—also a volunteer—were + already lifting him to his feet. I introduced the boy and the Blight then, + and for the first time in my life I saw the Blight—shaken. + Round-eyed, she merely gazed at him. + </p> + <p> + “That was pretty well done,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he was drunk and I knew he would be slow.” Now something curious + happened. The dazed prisoner was on his feet, and his captors were + starting with him to the calaboose when he seemed suddenly to come to his + senses. + </p> + <p> + “Jes wait a minute, will ye?” he said quietly, and his captors, thinking + perhaps that he wanted to say something to me, stopped. The mountain youth + turned a strangely sobered face and fixed his blue eyes on the engineer as + though he were searing every feature of that imperturbable young man in + his brain forever. It was not a bad face, but the avenging hatred in it + was fearful. Then he, too, saw the Blight, his face calmed magically and + he, too, stared at her, and turned away with an oath checked at his lips. + We went on—the Blight thrilled, for she had heard much of our + volunteer force at the Gap and had seen something already. Presently I + looked back. Prisoner and captors were climbing the little hill toward the + calaboose and the mountain boy just then turned his head and I could swear + that his eyes sought not the engineer, whom we left at the corner, but, + like the engineer, he was looking at the Blight. Whereat I did not wonder—particularly + as to the engineer. He had been in the mountains for a long time and I + knew what this vision from home meant to him. He turned up at the house + quite early that night. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not on duty until eleven,” he said hesitantly, “and I thought I'd——” + </p> + <p> + “Come right in.” + </p> + <p> + I asked him a few questions about business and then I left him and the + Blight alone. When I came back she had a Gatling gun of eager questions + ranged on him and—happy withal—he was squirming no little. I + followed him to the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Are you really going over into those God-forsaken mountains?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I would.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are going to take HER?” + </p> + <p> + “And my sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg your pardon.” He strode away. + </p> + <p> + “Coming up by the mines?” he called back. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps will you show us around?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I will,” he said emphatically, and he went on to risk his neck on + a ten-mile ride along a mountain road in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “I LIKE a man,” said the Blight. “I like a MAN.” + </p> + <p> + Of course the Blight must see everything, so she insisted on going to the + police court next morning for the trial of the mountain boy. The boy was + in the witness chair when we got there, and the Hon. Samuel Budd was his + counsel. He had volunteered to defend the prisoner, I was soon told, and + then I understood. The November election was not far off and the Hon. + Samuel Budd was candidate for legislature. More even, the boy's father was + a warm supporter of Mr. Budd and the boy himself might perhaps render good + service in the cause when the time came—as indeed he did. On one of + the front chairs sat the young engineer and it was a question whether he + or the prisoner saw the Blight's black plumes first. The eyes of both + flashed toward her simultaneously, the engineer colored perceptibly and + the mountain boy stopped short in speech and his pallid face flushed with + unmistakable shame. Then he went on: “He had liquered up,” he said, “and + had got tight afore he knowed it and he didn't mean no harm and had never + been arrested afore in his whole life.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been drunk before?” asked the prosecuting attorney + severely. The lad looked surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Co'se I have, but I ain't goin' to agin—leastwise not in this here + town.” There was a general laugh at this and the aged mayor rapped loudly. + </p> + <p> + “That will do,” said the attorney. + </p> + <p> + The lad stepped down, hitched his chair slightly so that his back was to + the Blight, sank down in it until his head rested on the back of the chair + and crossed his legs. The Hon. Samuel Budd arose and the Blight looked at + him with wonder. His long yellow hair was parted in the middle and brushed + with plaster-like precision behind two enormous ears, he wore spectacles, + gold-rimmed and with great staring lenses, and his face was smooth and + ageless. He caressed his chin ruminatingly and rolled his lips until they + settled into a fine resultant of wisdom, patience, toleration and + firmness. His manner was profound and his voice oily and soothing. + </p> + <p> + “May it please your Honor—my young friend frankly pleads guilty.” He + paused as though the majesty of the law could ask no more. “He is a young + man of naturally high and somewhat—naturally, too, no doubt—bibulous + spirits. Homoepathically—if inversely—the result was logical. + In the untrammelled life of the liberty-breathing mountains, where the + stern spirit of law and order, of which your Honor is the august symbol, + does not prevail as it does here—thanks to your Honor's wise and + just dispensations—the lad has, I may say, naturally acquired a + certain recklessness of mood—indulgence which, however easily + condoned there, must here be sternly rebuked. At the same time, he knew + not the conditions here, he became exhilarated without malice, prepensey + or even, I may say, consciousness. He would not have done as he has, if he + had known what he knows now, and, knowing, he will not repeat the offence. + I need say no more. I plead simply that your Honor will temper the justice + that is only yours with the mercy that is yours—only.” + </p> + <p> + His Honor was visibly affected and to cover it—his methods being + informal—he said with sharp irrelevancy: + </p> + <p> + “Who bailed this young feller out last night?” The sergeant spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Marston thar”—with outstretched finger toward the young + engineer. The Blight's black eyes leaped with exultant appreciation and + the engineer turned crimson. His Honor rolled his quid around in his mouth + once, and peered over his glasses: + </p> + <p> + “I fine this young feller two dollars and costs.” The young fellow had + turned slowly in his chair and his blue eyes blazed at the engineer with + unappeasable hatred. I doubt if he had heard his Honor's voice. + </p> + <p> + “I want ye to know that I'm obleeged to ye an' I ain't a-goin' to fergit + it; but if I'd a known hit was you I'd a stayed in jail an' seen you in + hell afore I'd a been bounden to ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten dollars fer contempt of couht.” The boy was hot now. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fine and be—” The Hon. Samuel Budd had him by the shoulder, the + boy swallowed his voice and his starting tears of rage, and after a + whisper to his Honor, the Hon. Samuel led him out. Outside, the engineer + laughed to the Blight: + </p> + <p> + “Pretty peppery, isn't he?” but the Blight said nothing, and later we saw + the youth on a gray horse crossing the bridge and conducted by the Hon. + Samuel Budd, who stopped and waved him toward the mountains. The boy went + on and across the plateau, the gray Gap swallowed him. That night, at the + post-office, the Hon. Sam plucked me aside by the sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “I know Marston is agin me in this race—but I'll do him a good turn + just the same. You tell him to watch out for that young fellow. He's all + right when he's sober, but when he's drunk—well, over in Kentucky, + they call him the Wild Dog.” + </p> + <p> + Several days later we started out through that same Gap. The glum + stableman looked at the Blight's girths three times, and with my own eyes + starting and my heart in my mouth, I saw her pass behind her + sixteen-hand-high mule and give him a friendly tap on the rump as she went + by. The beast gave an appreciative flop of one ear and that was all. Had I + done that, any further benefit to me or mine would be incorporated in the + terms of an insurance policy. So, stating this, I believe I state the + limit and can now go on to say at last that it was because she seemed to + be loved by man and brute alike that a big man of her own town, whose + body, big as it was, was yet too small for his heart and from whose brain + things went off at queer angles, always christened her perversely as—“The + Blight.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. ON THE WILD DOG'S TRAIL + </h2> + <p> + So up we went past Bee Rock, Preacher's Creek and Little Looney, past the + mines where high on a “tipple” stood the young engineer looking down at + us, and looking after the Blight as we passed on into a dim rocky avenue + walled on each side with rhododendrons. I waved at him and shook my head—we + would see him coming back. Beyond a deserted log-cabin we turned up a spur + of the mountain. Around a clump of bushes we came on a gray-bearded + mountaineer holding his horse by the bridle and from a covert high above + two more men appeared with Winchesters. The Blight breathed forth an awed + whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Are they moonshiners?” + </p> + <p> + I nodded sagely, “Most likely,” and the Blight was thrilled. They might + have been squirrel-hunters most innocent, but the Blight had heard much + talk of moonshine stills and mountain feuds and the men who run them and I + took the risk of denying her nothing. Up and up we went, those two mules + swaying from side to side with a motion little short of elephantine and, + by and by, the Blight called out: + </p> + <p> + “You ride ahead and don't you DARE look back.” + </p> + <p> + Accustomed to obeying the Blight's orders, I rode ahead with eyes to the + front. Presently, a shriek made me turn suddenly. It was nothing—my + little sister's mule had gone near a steep cliff—perilously near, as + its rider thought, but I saw why I must not look back; those two little + girls were riding astride on side-saddles, the booted little right foot of + each dangling stirrupless—a posture quite decorous but ludicrous. + </p> + <p> + “Let us know if anybody comes,” they cried. A mountaineer descended into + sight around a loop of the path above. + </p> + <p> + “Change cars,” I shouted. + </p> + <p> + They changed and, passing, were grave, demure—then they changed + again, and thus we climbed. + </p> + <p> + Such a glory as was below, around and above us; the air like champagne; + the sunlight rich and pouring like a flood on the gold that the beeches + had strewn in the path, on the gold that the poplars still shook high + above and shimmering on the royal scarlet of the maple and the sombre + russet of the oak. From far below us to far above us a deep curving ravine + was slashed into the mountain side as by one stroke of a gigantic + scimitar. The darkness deep down was lighted up with cool green, + interfused with liquid gold. Russet and yellow splashed the mountain sides + beyond and high up the maples were in a shaking blaze. The Blight's swift + eyes took all in and with indrawn breath she drank it all deep down. + </p> + <p> + An hour by sun we were near the top, which was bared of trees and turned + into rich farm-land covered with blue-grass. Along these upland pastures, + dotted with grazing cattle, and across them we rode toward the mountain + wildernesses on the other side, down into which a zigzag path wriggles + along the steep front of Benham's spur. At the edge of the steep was a + cabin and a bushy-bearded mountaineer, who looked like a brigand, answered + my hail. He “mought” keep us all night, but he'd “ruther not, as we could + git a place to stay down the spur.” Could we get down before dark? The + mountaineer lifted his eyes to where the sun was breaking the horizon of + the west into streaks and splashes of yellow and crimson. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you can git thar afore dark.” + </p> + <p> + Now I knew that the mountaineer's idea of distance is vague—but he + knows how long it takes to get from one place to another. So we started + down—dropping at once into thick dark woods, and as we went looping + down, the deeper was the gloom. That sun had suddenly severed all + connection with the laws of gravity and sunk, and it was all the darker + because the stars were not out. The path was steep and coiled downward + like a wounded snake. In one place a tree had fallen across it, and to + reach the next coil of the path below was dangerous. So I had the girls + dismount and I led the gray horse down on his haunches. The mules refused + to follow, which was rather unusual. I went back and from a safe distance + in the rear I belabored them down. They cared neither for gray horse nor + crooked path, but turned of their own devilish wills along the bushy + mountain side. As I ran after them the gray horse started calmly on down + and those two girls shrieked with laughter—they knew no better. + First one way and then the other down the mountain went those mules, with + me after them, through thick bushes, over logs, stumps and bowlders and + holes—crossing the path a dozen times. What that path was there for + never occurred to those long-eared half asses, whole fools, and by and by, + when the girls tried to shoo them down they clambered around and above + them and struck the path back up the mountain. The horse had gone down one + way, the mules up the other, and there was no health in anything. The + girls could not go up—so there was nothing to do but go down, which, + hard as it was, was easier than going up. The path was not visible now. + Once in a while I would stumble from it and crash through the bushes to + the next coil below. Finally I went down, sliding one foot ahead all the + time—knowing that when leaves rustled under that foot I was on the + point of going astray. Sometimes I had to light a match to make sure of + the way, and thus the ridiculous descent was made with those girls in high + spirits behind. Indeed, the darker, rockier, steeper it got, the more they + shrieked from pure joy—but I was anything than happy. It was + dangerous. I didn't know the cliffs and high rocks we might skirt and an + unlucky guidance might land us in the creek-bed far down. But the blessed + stars came out, the moon peered over a farther mountain and on the last + spur there was the gray horse browsing in the path—and the sound of + running water not far below. Fortunately on the gray horse were the + saddle-bags of the chattering infants who thought the whole thing a mighty + lark. We reached the running water, struck a flock of geese and knew, in + consequence, that humanity was somewhere near. A few turns of the creek + and a beacon light shone below. The pales of a picket fence, the cheering + outlines of a log-cabin came in view and at a peaked gate I shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” + </p> + <p> + You enter no mountaineer's yard without that announcing cry. It was + mediaeval, the Blight said, positively—two lorn damsels, a benighted + knight partially stripped of his armor by bush and sharp-edged rock, a + gray palfrey (she didn't mention the impatient asses that had turned + homeward) and she wished I had a horn to wind. I wanted a “horn” badly + enough—but it was not the kind men wind. By and by we got a + response: + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” was the answer, as an opened door let out into the yard a broad + band of light. Could we stay all night? The voice replied that the owner + would see “Pap.” “Pap” seemed willing, and the boy opened the gate and + into the house went the Blight and the little sister. Shortly, I followed. + </p> + <p> + There, all in one room, lighted by a huge wood-fire, rafters above, + puncheon floor beneath—cane-bottomed chairs and two beds the only + furniture-“pap,” barefooted, the old mother in the chimney-corner with a + pipe, strings of red pepper-pods, beans and herbs hanging around and + above, a married daughter with a child at her breast, two or three + children with yellow hair and bare feet all looking with all their eyes at + the two visitors who had dropped upon them from another world. The + Blight's eyes were brighter than usual—that was the only sign she + gave that she was not in her own drawing-room. Apparently she saw nothing + strange or unusual even, but there was really nothing that she did not see + or hear and absorb, as few others than the Blight can. + </p> + <p> + Straightway, the old woman knocked the ashes out of her pipe. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you hain't had nothin' to eat,” she said and disappeared. The + old man asked questions, the young mother rocked her baby on her knees, + the children got less shy and drew near the fireplace, the Blight and the + little sister exchanged a furtive smile and the contrast of the extremes + in American civilization, as shown in that little cabin, interested me + mightily. + </p> + <p> + “Yer snack's ready,” said the old woman. The old man carried the chairs + into the kitchen, and when I followed the girls were seated. The chairs + were so low that their chins came barely over their plates, and demure and + serious as they were they surely looked most comical. There was the usual + bacon and corn-bread and potatoes and sour milk, and the two girls + struggled with the rude fare nobly. + </p> + <p> + After supper I joined the old man and the old woman with a pipe—exchanging + my tobacco for their long green with more satisfaction probably to me than + to them, for the long green was good, and strong and fragrant. + </p> + <p> + The old woman asked the Blight and the little sister many questions and + they, in turn, showed great interest in the baby in arms, whereat the + eighteen-year-old mother blushed and looked greatly pleased. + </p> + <p> + “You got mighty purty black eyes,” said the old woman to the Blight, and + not to slight the little sister she added, “An' you got mighty purty + teeth.” + </p> + <p> + The Blight showed hers in a radiant smile and the old woman turned back to + her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you've got both,” she said and she shook her head, as though she were + thinking of the damage they had done. It was my time now—to ask + questions. + </p> + <p> + They didn't have many amusements on that creek, I discovered—and no + dances. Sometimes the boys went coon-hunting and there were + corn-shuckings, house-raisings and quilting-parties. + </p> + <p> + “Does anybody round here play the banjo?” + </p> + <p> + “None o' my boys,” said the old woman, “but Tom Green's son down the creek—he + follers pickin' the banjo a leetle.” “Follows pickin' “—the Blight + did not miss that phrase. + </p> + <p> + “What do you foller fer a livin'?” the old man asked me suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I write for a living.” He thought a while. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it must be purty fine to have a good handwrite.” This nearly + dissolved the Blight and the little sister, but they held on heroically. + </p> + <p> + “Is there much fighting around here?” I asked presently. + </p> + <p> + “Not much 'cept when one young feller up the river gets to tearin' up + things. I heerd as how he was over to the Gap last week—raisin' + hell. He comes by here on his way home.” The Blight's eyes opened wide—apparently + we were on his trail. It is not wise for a member of the police guard at + the Gap to show too much curiosity about the lawless ones of the hills, + and I asked no questions. + </p> + <p> + “They calls him the Wild Dog over here,” he added, and then he yawned + cavernously. + </p> + <p> + I looked around with divining eye for the sleeping arrangements soon to + come, which sometimes are embarrassing to “furriners” who are unable to + grasp at once the primitive unconsciousness of the mountaineers and, in + consequence, accept a point of view natural to them because enforced by + architectural limitations and a hospitality that turns no one seeking + shelter from any door. They were, however, better prepared than I had + hoped for. They had a spare room on the porch and just outside the door, + and when the old woman led the two girls to it, I followed with their + saddle-bags. The room was about seven feet by six and was windowless. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better leave your door open a little,” I said, “or you'll smother + in there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the old woman, “hit's all right to leave the door open. + Nothin's goin' ter bother ye, but one o' my sons is out a coon-huntin' and + he mought come in, not knowin' you're thar. But you jes' holler an' he'll + move on.” She meant precisely what she said and saw no humor at all in + such a possibility—but when the door closed, I could hear those + girls stifling shrieks of laughter. + </p> + <p> + Literally, that night, I was a member of the family. I had a bed to myself + (the following night I was not so fortunate)—in one corner; behind + the head of mine the old woman, the daughter-in-law and the baby had + another in the other corner, and the old man with the two boys spread a + pallet on the floor. That is the invariable rule of courtesy with the + mountaineer, to give his bed to the stranger and take to the floor + himself, and, in passing, let me say that never, in a long experience, + have I seen the slightest consciousness—much less immodesty—in + a mountain cabin in my life. The same attitude on the part of the visitors + is taken for granted—any other indeed holds mortal possibilities of + offence—so that if the visitor has common sense, all embarrassment + passes at once. The door was closed, the fire blazed on uncovered, the + smothered talk and laughter of the two girls ceased, the coon-hunter came + not and the night passed in peace. + </p> + <p> + It must have been near daybreak that I was aroused by the old man leaving + the cabin and I heard voices and the sound of horses' feet outside. When + he came back he was grinning. + </p> + <p> + “Hit's your mules.” + </p> + <p> + “Who found them?” + </p> + <p> + “The Wild Dog had 'em,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. THE AURICULAR TALENT OF THE HON. SAMUEL BUDD + </h2> + <p> + Behind us came the Hon. Samuel Budd. Just when the sun was slitting the + east with a long streak of fire, the Hon. Samuel was, with the jocund day, + standing tiptoe in his stirrups on the misty mountain top and peering into + the ravine down which we had slid the night before, and he grumbled no + little when he saw that he, too, must get off his horse and slide down. + The Hon. Samuel was ambitious, Southern, and a lawyer. Without saying, it + goes that he was also a politician. He was not a native of the mountains, + but he had cast his fortunes in the highlands, and he was taking the first + step that he hoped would, before many years, land him in the National + Capitol. He really knew little about the mountaineers, even now, and he + had never been among his constituents on Devil's Fork, where he was bound + now. The campaign had so far been full of humor and full of trials—not + the least of which sprang from the fact that it was sorghum time. + Everybody through the mountains was making sorghum, and every mountain + child was eating molasses. + </p> + <p> + Now, as the world knows, the straightest way to the heart of the honest + voter is through the women of the land, and the straightest way to the + heart of the women is through the children of the land; and one method of + winning both, with rural politicians, is to kiss the babies wide and far. + So as each infant, at sorghum time, has a circle of green-brown stickiness + about his chubby lips, and as the Hon. Sam was averse to “long sweetenin'” + even in his coffee, this particular political device just now was no small + trial to the Hon. Samuel Budd. But in the language of one of his firmest + supporters Uncle Tommie Hendricks: + </p> + <p> + “The Hon. Sam done his duty, and he done it damn well.” + </p> + <p> + The issue at stake was the site of the new Court-House—two + localities claiming the right undisputed, because they were the only two + places in the county where there was enough level land for the Court-House + to stand on. Let no man think this a trivial issue. There had been a + similar one over on the Virginia side once, and the opposing factions + agreed to decide the question by the ancient wager of battle, fist and + skull—two hundred men on each side—and the women of the county + with difficulty prevented the fight. Just now, Mr. Budd was on his way to + “The Pocket”—the voting place of one faction—where he had + never been, where the hostility against him was most bitter, and, that + day, he knew he was “up against” Waterloo, the crossing of the Rubicon, + holding the pass at Thermopylae, or any other historical crisis in the + history of man. I was saddling the mules when the cackling of geese in the + creek announced the coming of the Hon. Samuel Budd, coming with his chin + on his breast-deep in thought. Still his eyes beamed cheerily, he lifted + his slouched hat gallantly to the Blight and the little sister, and he + would wait for us to jog along with him. I told him of our troubles, + meanwhile. The Wild Dog had restored our mules and the Hon. Sam beamed: + </p> + <p> + “He's a wonder—where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He never waited—even for thanks.” + </p> + <p> + Again the Hon. Sam beamed: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! just like him. He's gone ahead to help me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, how did he happen to be here?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He's everywhere,” said the Hon. Sam. + </p> + <p> + “How did he know the mules were ours?” + </p> + <p> + “Easy. That boy knows everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why did he bring them back and then leave so mysteriously?” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Sam silently pointed a finger at the laughing Blight ahead, and I + looked incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “Just the same, that's another reason I told you to warn Marston. He's + already got it in his head that Marston is his rival.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” I said—for it was too ridiculous. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the Hon. Sam placidly. + </p> + <p> + “Then why doesn't he want to see her?” “How do you know he ain't watchin' + her now, for all we know? Mark me,” he added, “you won't see him at the + speakin', but I'll bet fruit cake agin gingerbread he'll be somewhere + around.” + </p> + <p> + So we went on, the two girls leading the way and the Hon. Sam now telling + his political troubles to me. Half a mile down the road, a solitary + horseman stood waiting, and Mr. Budd gave a low whistle. + </p> + <p> + “One o' my rivals,” he said, from the corner of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin',” said the horseman; “lemme see you a minute.” + </p> + <p> + He made a movement to draw aside, but the Hon. Samuel made a + counter-gesture of dissent. + </p> + <p> + “This gentleman is a friend of mine,” he said firmly, but with great + courtesy, “and he can hear what you have to say to me.” + </p> + <p> + The mountaineer rubbed one huge hand over his stubbly chin, threw one of + his long legs over the pommel of his saddle, and dangled a heavy cowhide + shoe to and fro. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind tellin' me whut pay a member of the House of Legislatur' + gits a day?” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Sam looked surprised. + </p> + <p> + “I think about two dollars and a half.” + </p> + <p> + “An' his meals?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” laughed Mr. Budd. + </p> + <p> + “Well, look-ee here, stranger. I'm a pore man an' I've got a mortgage on + my farm. That money don't mean nothin' to you—but if you'll draw out + now an' I win, I'll tell ye whut I'll do.” He paused as though to make + sure that the sacrifice was possible. “I'll just give ye half of that two + dollars and a half a day, as shore as you're a-settin' on that hoss, and + you won't hav' to hit a durn lick to earn it.” + </p> + <p> + I had not the heart to smile—nor did the Hon. Samuel—so + artless and simple was the man and so pathetic his appeal. + </p> + <p> + “You see—you'll divide my vote, an' ef we both run, ole Josh + Barton'll git it shore. Ef you git out o' the way, I can lick him easy.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Budd's answer was kind, instructive, and uplifted. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” said he, “I'm sorry, but I cannot possibly accede to your + request for the following reasons: First, it would not be fair to my + constituents; secondly, it would hardly be seeming to barter the noble + gift of the people to which we both aspire; thirdly, you might lose with + me out of the way; and fourthly, I'm going to win whether you are in the + way or not.” + </p> + <p> + The horseman slowly collapsed while the Hon. Samuel was talking, and now + he threw the leg back, kicked for his stirrup twice, spat once, and turned + his horse's head. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you will, stranger,” he said sadly, “with that gift o' gab o' + yourn.” He turned without another word or nod of good-by and started back + up the creek whence he had come. + </p> + <p> + “One gone,” said the Hon. Samuel Budd grimly, “and I swear I'm right sorry + for him.” And so was I. + </p> + <p> + An hour later we struck the river, and another hour upstream brought us to + where the contest of tongues was to come about. No sylvan dell in Arcady + could have been lovelier than the spot. Above the road, a big spring + poured a clear little stream over shining pebbles into the river; above it + the bushes hung thick with autumn leaves, and above them stood yellow + beeches like pillars of pale fire. On both sides of the road sat and + squatted the honest voters, sour-looking, disgruntled—a distinctly + hostile crowd. The Blight and my little sister drew great and curious + attention as they sat on a bowlder above the spring while I went with the + Hon. Samuel Budd under the guidance of Uncle Tommie Hendricks, who + introduced him right and left. The Hon. Samuel was cheery, but he was + plainly nervous. There were two lanky youths whose names, oddly enough, + were Budd. As they gave him their huge paws in lifeless fashion, the Hon. + Samuel slapped one on the shoulder, with the true democracy of the + politician, and said jocosely: + </p> + <p> + “Well, we Budds may not be what you call great people, but, thank God, + none of us have ever been in the penitentiary,” and he laughed loudly, + thinking that he had scored a great and jolly point. The two young men + looked exceedingly grave and Uncle Tommie panic-stricken. He plucked the + Hon. Sam by the sleeve and led him aside: + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you made a leetle mistake thar. Them two fellers' daddy died in + the penitentiary last spring.” The Hon. Sam whistled mournfully, but he + looked game enough when his opponent rose to speak—Uncle Josh + Barton, who had short, thick, upright hair, little sharp eyes, and a + rasping voice. Uncle Josh wasted no time: + </p> + <p> + “Feller-citizens,” he shouted, “this man is a lawyer—he's a + corporation lawyer”; the fearful name—pronounced “lie-yer”—rang + through the crowd like a trumpet, and like lightning the Hon. Sam was on + his feet. + </p> + <p> + “The man who says that is a liar,” he said calmly, “and I demand your + authority for the statement. If you won't give it—I shall hold you + personally responsible, sir.” + </p> + <p> + It was a strike home, and under the flashing eyes that stared + unwaveringly, through the big goggles, Uncle Josh halted and stammered and + admitted that he might have been misinformed. + </p> + <p> + “Then I advise you to be more careful,” cautioned the Hon. Samuel sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Feller-citizens,” said Uncle Josh, “if he ain't a corporation lawyer—who + is this man? Where did he come from? I have been born and raised among + you. You all know me—do you know him? Whut's he a-doin' now? He's a + fine-haired furriner, an' he's come down hyeh from the settlemints to tell + ye that you hain't got no man in yo' own deestrict that's fittin' to + represent ye in the legislatur'. Look at him—look at him! He's got + FOUR eyes! Look at his hair—hit's PARTED IN THE MIDDLE!” There was a + storm of laughter—Uncle Josh had made good—and if the Hon. + Samuel could straightway have turned bald-headed and sightless, he would + have been a happy man. He looked sick with hopelessness, but Uncle Tommie + Hendricks, his mentor, was vigorously whispering something in his ear, and + gradually his face cleared. Indeed, the Hon. Samuel was smilingly + confident when he rose. + </p> + <p> + Like his rival, he stood in the open road, and the sun beat down on his + parted yellow hair, so that the eyes of all could see, and the laughter + was still running round. + </p> + <p> + “Who is your Uncle Josh?” he asked with threatening mildness. “I know I + was not born here, but, my friends, I couldn't help that. And just as soon + as I could get away from where I was born, I came here and,” he paused + with lips parted and long finger outstretched, “and—I—came—because—I + WANTED—to come—and NOT because I HAD TO.” + </p> + <p> + Now it seems that Uncle Josh, too, was not a native and that he had left + home early in life for his State's good and for his own. Uncle Tommie had + whispered this, and the Hon. Samuel raised himself high on both toes while + the expectant crowd, on the verge of a roar, waited—as did Uncle + Joshua, with a sickly smile. + </p> + <p> + “Why did your Uncle Josh come among you? Because he was hoop-poled away + from home.” Then came the roar—and the Hon. Samuel had to quell it + with uplifted hand. + </p> + <p> + “And did your Uncle Joshua marry a mountain wife? No I He didn't think any + of your mountain women were good enough for him, so he slips down into the + settlemints and STEALS one. And now, fellow-citizens, that is just what + I'm here for—I'm looking for a nice mountain girl, and I'm going to + have her.” Again the Hon. Samuel had to still the roar, and then he went + on quietly to show how they must lose the Court-House site if they did not + send him to the legislature, and how, while they might not get it if they + did send him, it was their only hope to send only him. The crowd had grown + somewhat hostile again, and it was after one telling period, when the Hon. + Samuel stopped to mop his brow, that a gigantic mountaineer rose in the + rear of the crowd: + </p> + <p> + “Talk on, stranger; you're talking sense. I'll trust ye. You've got big + ears!” + </p> + <p> + Now the Hon. Samuel possessed a primordial talent that is rather rare in + these physically degenerate days. He said nothing, but stood quietly in + the middle of the road. The eyes of the crowd on either side of the road + began to bulge, the lips of all opened with wonder, and a simultaneous + burst of laughter rose around the Hon. Samuel Budd. A dozen men sprang to + their feet and rushed up to him—looking at those remarkable ears, as + they gravely wagged to and fro. That settled things, and as we left, the + Hon. Sam was having things his own way, and on the edge of the crowd Uncle + Tommie Hendricks was shaking his head: + </p> + <p> + “I tell ye, boys, he ain't no jackass even if he can flop his ears.” + </p> + <p> + At the river we started upstream, and some impulse made me turn in my + saddle and look back. All the time I had had an eye open for the young + mountaineer whose interest in us seemed to be so keen. And now I saw, + standing at the head of a gray horse, on the edge of the crowd, a tall + figure with his hands on his hips and looking after us. I couldn't be + sure, but it looked like the Wild Dog. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. CLOSE QUARTERS + </h2> + <p> + Two hours up the river we struck Buck. Buck was sitting on the fence by + the roadside, barefooted and hatless. + </p> + <p> + “How-dye-do?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Purty well,” said Buck. + </p> + <p> + “Any fish in this river?” + </p> + <p> + “Several,” said Buck. Now in mountain speech, “several” means simply “a + good many.” + </p> + <p> + “Any minnows in these branches?” + </p> + <p> + “I seed several in the branch back o' our house.” + </p> + <p> + “How far away do you live?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, 'bout one whoop an' a holler.” If he had spoken Greek the Blight + could not have been more puzzled. He meant he lived as far as a man's + voice would carry with one yell and a holla. + </p> + <p> + “Will you help me catch some?” Buck nodded. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” I said, turning my horse up to the fence. “Get on behind.” + The horse shied his hind quarters away, and I pulled him back. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you can get on, if you'll be quick.” Buck sat still. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said imperturbably; “but I ain't quick.” The two girls laughed + aloud, and Buck looked surprised. + </p> + <p> + Around a curving cornfield we went, and through a meadow which Buck said + was a “nigh cut.” From the limb of a tree that we passed hung a piece of + wire with an iron ring swinging at its upturned end. A little farther was + another tree and another ring, and farther on another and another. + </p> + <p> + “For heaven's sake, Buck, what are these things?” + </p> + <p> + “Mart's a-gittin' ready fer a tourneyment.” + </p> + <p> + “A what?” + </p> + <p> + “That's whut Mart calls hit. He was over to the Gap last Fourth o' July, + an' he says fellers over thar fix up like Kuklux and go a-chargin' on + hosses and takin' off them rings with a ash-stick—'spear,' Mart + calls hit. He come back an' he says he's a-goin' to win that ar + tourneyment next Fourth o' July. He's got the best hoss up this river, and + on Sundays him an' Dave Branham goes a-chargin' along here a-picking off + these rings jus' a-flyin'; an' Mart can do hit, I'm tellin' ye. Dave's + mighty good hisself, but he ain't nowhar 'longside o' Mart.” + </p> + <p> + This was strange. I had told the Blight about our Fourth of July, and how + on the Virginia side the ancient custom of the tournament still survived. + It was on the last Fourth of July that she had meant to come to the Gap. + Truly civilization was spreading throughout the hills. + </p> + <p> + “Who's Mart?” + </p> + <p> + “Mart's my brother,” said little Buck. + </p> + <p> + “He was over to the Gap not long ago, an' he come back mad as hops—” + He stopped suddenly, and in such a way that I turned my head, knowing that + caution had caught Buck. + </p> + <p> + “What about?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothin',” said Buck carelessly; “only he's been quar ever since. My + sisters says he's got a gal over thar, an' he's a-pickin' off these rings + more'n ever now. He's going to win or bust a belly-band.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, who's Dave Branham?” + </p> + <p> + Buck grinned. “You jes axe my sister Mollie. Thar she is.” + </p> + <p> + Before us was a white-framed house of logs in the porch of which stood two + stalwart, good-looking girls. Could we stay all night? We could—there + was no hesitation—and straight in we rode. + </p> + <p> + “Where's your father?” Both girls giggled, and one said, with frank + unembarrassment: + </p> + <p> + “Pap's tight!” That did not look promising, but we had to stay just the + same. Buck helped me to unhitch the mules, helped me also to catch + minnows, and in half an hour we started down the river to try fishing + before dark came. Buck trotted along. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got a wagon, Buck?” + </p> + <p> + “What fer?” + </p> + <p> + “To bring the fish back.” Buck was not to be caught napping. + </p> + <p> + “We got that sled thar, but hit won't be big enough,” he said gravely. + “An' our two-hoss wagon's out in the cornfield. We'll have to string the + fish, leave 'em in the river and go fer 'em in the mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Buck.” The Blight was greatly amused at Buck. + </p> + <p> + Two hundred yards down the road stood his sisters over the figure of a man + outstretched in the road. Unashamed, they smiled at us. The man in the + road was “pap”—tight—and they were trying to get him home. + </p> + <p> + We cast into a dark pool farther down and fished most patiently; not a + bite—not a nibble. + </p> + <p> + “Are there any fish in here, Buck?” + </p> + <p> + “Dunno—used ter be.” The shadows deepened; we must go back to the + house. + </p> + <p> + “Is there a dam below here, Buck?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thar's a dam about a half-mile down the river.” + </p> + <p> + I was disgusted. No wonder there were no bass in that pool. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you tell me that before?” + </p> + <p> + “You never axed me,” said Buck placidly. + </p> + <p> + I began winding in my line. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't no bottom to that pool,” said Buck. + </p> + <p> + Now I never saw any rural community where there was not a bottomless pool, + and I suddenly determined to shake one tradition in at least one + community. So I took an extra fish-line, tied a stone to it, and climbed + into a canoe, Buck watching me, but not asking a word. + </p> + <p> + “Get in, Buck.” + </p> + <p> + Silently he got in and I pushed off—to the centre. + </p> + <p> + “This the deepest part, Buck?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon so.” + </p> + <p> + I dropped in the stone and the line reeled out some fifty feet and began + to coil on the surface of the water. + </p> + <p> + “I guess that's on the bottom, isn't it, Buck?” + </p> + <p> + Buck looked genuinely distressed; but presently he brightened. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “ef hit ain't on a turtle's back.” + </p> + <p> + Literally I threw up both hands and back we trailed—fishless. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you won't need that two-hoss wagon,” said Buck. “No, Buck, I think + not.” Buck looked at the Blight and gave himself the pleasure of his first + chuckle. A big crackling, cheerful fire awaited us. Through the door I + could see, outstretched on a bed in the next room, the limp figure of + “pap” in alcoholic sleep. The old mother, big, kind-faced, explained—and + there was a heaven of kindness and charity in her drawling voice. + </p> + <p> + “Dad didn' often git that a-way,” she said; “but he'd been out a-huntin' + hawgs that mornin' and had met up with some teamsters and gone to a + political speakin' and had tuk a dram or two of their mean whiskey, and + not havin' nothin' on his stummick, hit had all gone to his head. No, + 'pap' didn't git that a-way often, and he'd be all right jes' as soon as + he slept it off a while.” The old woman moved about with a cane and the + sympathetic Blight merely looked a question at her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she'd fell down a year ago—and had sort o' hurt herself—didn't + do nothin', though, 'cept break one hip,” she added, in her kind, patient + old voice. Did many people stop there? Oh, yes, sometimes fifteen at a + time—they “never turned nobody away.” And she had a big family, + little Cindy and the two big girls and Buck and Mart—who was out + somewhere—and the hired man, and yes—“Thar was another boy, + but he was fitified,” said one of the big sisters. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the wondering Blight, but she knew that phrase + wouldn't do, so she added politely: + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Fitified—Tom has fits. He's in a asylum in the settlements.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom come back once an' he was all right,” said the old mother; “but he + worried so much over them gals workin' so hard that it plum' throwed him + off ag'in, and we had to send him back.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you work pretty hard?” I asked presently. Then a story came that was + full of unconscious pathos, because there was no hint of complaint—simply + a plain statement of daily life. They got up before the men, in order to + get breakfast ready; then they went with the men into the fields—those + two girls—and worked like men. At dark they got supper ready, and + after the men went to bed they worked on—washing dishes and clearing + up the kitchen. They took it turn about getting supper, and sometimes, one + said, she was “so plumb tuckered out that she'd drap on the bed and go to + sleep ruther than eat her own supper.” No wonder poor Tom had to go back + to the asylum. All the while the two girls stood by the fire looking, + politely but minutely, at the two strange girls and their curious clothes + and their boots, and the way they dressed their hair. Their hard life + seemed to have hurt them none—for both were the pictures of health—whatever + that phrase means. + </p> + <p> + After supper “pap” came in, perfectly sober, with a big ruddy face, giant + frame, and twinkling gray eyes. He was the man who had risen to speak his + faith in the Hon. Samuel Budd that day on the size of the Hon. Samuel's + ears. He, too, was unashamed and, as he explained his plight again, he did + it with little apology. + </p> + <p> + “I seed ye at the speakin' to-day. That man Budd is a good man. He done + somethin' fer a boy o' mine over at the Gap.” Like little Buck, he, too, + stopped short. “He's a good man an' I'm a-goin' to help him.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, he repeated, quite irrelevantly, it was hunting hogs all day with + nothing to eat and only mean whiskey to drink. Mart had not come in yet—he + was “workin' out” now. + </p> + <p> + “He's the best worker in these mountains,” said the old woman; “Mart works + too hard.” + </p> + <p> + The hired man appeared and joined us at the fire. Bedtime came, and I + whispered jokingly to the Blight: + </p> + <p> + “I believe I'll ask that good-looking one to 'set up' with me.” “Settin' + up” is what courting is called in the hills. The couple sit up in front of + the fire after everybody else has gone to bed. The man puts his arm around + the girl's neck and whispers; then she puts her arm around his neck and + whispers—so that the rest may not hear. This I had related to the + Blight, and now she withered me. + </p> + <p> + “You just do, now!” + </p> + <p> + I turned to the girl in question, whose name was Mollie. “Buck told me to + ask you who Dave Branham was.” Mollie wheeled, blushing and angry, but + Buck had darted cackling out the door. “Oh,” I said, and I changed the + subject. “What time do you get up?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, 'bout crack o' day.” I was tired, and that was discouraging. + </p> + <p> + “Do you get up that early every morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” was the quick answer; “a mornin' later.” + </p> + <p> + A morning later, Mollie got up, each morning. The Blight laughed. + </p> + <p> + Pretty soon the two girls were taken into the next room, which was a long + one, with one bed in one dark corner, one in the other, and a third bed in + the middle. The feminine members of the family all followed them out on + the porch and watched them brush their teeth, for they had never seen + tooth-brushes before. They watched them prepare for bed—and I could + hear much giggling and comment and many questions, all of which + culminated, by and by, in a chorus of shrieking laughter. That climax, as + I learned next morning, was over the Blight's hot-water bag. Never had + their eyes rested on an article of more wonder and humor than that water + bag. + </p> + <p> + By and by, the feminine members came back and we sat around the fire. + Still Mart did not appear, though somebody stepped into the kitchen, and + from the warning glance that Mollie gave Buck when she left the room I + guessed that the newcomer was her lover Dave. Pretty soon the old man + yawned. + </p> + <p> + “Well, mammy, I reckon this stranger's about ready to lay down, if you've + got a place fer him.” + </p> + <p> + “Git a light, Buck,” said the old woman. Buck got a light—a + chimneyless, smoking oil-lamp—and led me into the same room where + the Blight and my little sister were. Their heads were covered up, but the + bed in the gloom of one corner was shaking with their smothered laughter. + Buck pointed to the middle bed. + </p> + <p> + “I can get along without that light, Buck,” I said, and I must have been + rather haughty and abrupt, for a stifled shriek came from under the + bedclothes in the corner and Buck disappeared swiftly. Preparations for + bed are simple in the mountains—they were primitively simple for me + that night. Being in knickerbockers, I merely took off my coat and shoes. + Presently somebody else stepped into the room and the bed in the other + corner creaked. Silence for a while. Then the door opened, and the head of + the old woman was thrust in. + </p> + <p> + “Mart!” she said coaxingly; “git up thar now an' climb over inter bed with + that ar stranger.” + </p> + <p> + That was Mart at last, over in the corner. Mart turned, grumbled, and, to + my great pleasure, swore that he wouldn't. The old woman waited a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Mart,” she said again with gentle imperiousness, “git up thar now, I tell + ye—you've got to sleep with that thar stranger.” + </p> + <p> + She closed the door and with a snort Mart piled into bed with me. I gave + him plenty of room and did not introduce myself. A little more dark + silence—the shaking of the bed under the hilarity of those + astonished, bethrilled, but thoroughly unfrightened young women in the + dark corner on my left ceased, and again the door opened. This time it was + the hired man, and I saw that the trouble was either that neither Mart nor + Buck wanted to sleep with the hired man or that neither wanted to sleep + with me. A long silence and then the boy Buck slipped in. The hired man + delivered himself with the intonation somewhat of a circuit rider. + </p> + <p> + “I've been a-watchin' that star thar, through the winder. Sometimes hit + moves, then hit stands plum' still, an' ag'in hit gits to pitchin'.” The + hired man must have been touching up mean whiskey himself. Meanwhile, Mart + seemed to be having spells of troubled slumber. He would snore gently, + accentuate said snore with a sudden quiver of his body and then wake up + with a climacteric snort and start that would shake the bed. This was + repeated several times, and I began to think of the unfortunate Tom who + was “fitified.” Mart seemed on the verge of a fit himself, and I waited + apprehensively for each snorting climax to see if fits were a family + failing. They were not. Peace overcame Mart and he slept deeply, but not + I. The hired man began to show symptoms. He would roll and groan, dreaming + of feuds, <i>quorum pars magna fuit</i>, it seemed, and of religious + conversion, in which he feared he was not so great. Twice he said aloud: + </p> + <p> + “An' I tell you thar wouldn't a one of 'em have said a word if I'd been + killed stone-dead.” Twice he said it almost weepingly, and now and then he + would groan appealingly: + </p> + <p> + “O Lawd, have mercy on my pore soul!” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately those two tired girls slept—I could hear their breathing—but + sleep there was little for me. Once the troubled soul with the hoe got up + and stumbled out to the water-bucket on the porch to soothe the fever or + whatever it was that was burning him, and after that he was quiet. I awoke + before day. The dim light at the window showed an empty bed—Buck and + the hired man were gone. Mart was slipping out of the side of my bed, but + the girls still slept on. I watched Mart, for I guessed I might now see + what, perhaps, is the distinguishing trait of American civilization down + to its bed-rock, as you find it through the West and in the Southern hills—a + chivalrous respect for women. Mart thought I was asleep. Over in the + corner were two creatures the like of which I supposed he had never seen + and would not see, since he came in too late the night before, and was + going away too early now—and two angels straight from heaven could + not have stirred my curiosity any more than they already must have stirred + his. But not once did Mart turn his eyes, much less his face, toward the + corner where they were—not once, for I watched him closely. And when + he went out he sent his little sister back for his shoes, which the + night-walking hired man had accidentally kicked toward the foot of the + strangers' bed. In a minute I was out after him, but he was gone. Behind + me the two girls opened their eyes on a room that was empty save for them. + Then the Blight spoke (this I was told later). + </p> + <p> + “Dear,” she said, “have our room-mates gone?” + </p> + <p> + Breakfast at dawn. The mountain girls were ready to go to work. All looked + sorry to have us leave. They asked us to come back again, and they meant + it. We said we would like to come back—and we meant it—to see + them—the kind old mother, the pioneer-like old man, sturdy little + Buck, shy little Cindy, the elusive, hard-working, unconsciously shivery + Mart, and the two big sisters. As we started back up the river the sisters + started for the fields, and I thought of their stricken brother in the + settlements, who must have been much like Mart. + </p> + <p> + Back up the Big Black Mountain we toiled, and late in the afternoon we + were on the State line that runs the crest of the Big Black. Right on top + and bisected by that State line sat a dingy little shack, and there, with + one leg thrown over the pommel of his saddle, sat Marston, drinking water + from a gourd. + </p> + <p> + “I was coming over to meet you,” he said, smiling at the Blight, who, + greatly pleased, smiled back at him. The shack was a “blind Tiger” where + whiskey could be sold to Kentuckians on the Virginia side and to + Virginians on the Kentucky side. Hanging around were the slouching figures + of several moonshiners and the villainous fellow who ran it. + </p> + <p> + “They are real ones all right,” said Marston. “One of them killed a + revenue officer at that front door last week, and was killed by the posse + as he was trying to escape out of the back window. That house will be in + ashes soon,” he added. And it was. + </p> + <p> + As we rode down the mountain we told him about our trip and the people + with whom we had spent the night—and all the time he was smiling + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Buck,” he said. “Oh, yes, I know that little chap. Mart had him posted + down there on the river to toll you to his house—to toll YOU,” he + added to the Blight. He pulled in his horse suddenly, turned and looked up + toward the top of the mountain. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I thought so.” We all looked back. On the edge of the cliff, far + upward, on which the “blind Tiger” sat was a gray horse, and on it was a + man who, motionless, was looking down at us. + </p> + <p> + “He's been following you all the way,” said the engineer. + </p> + <p> + “Who's been following us?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “That's Mart up there—my friend and yours,” said Marston to the + Blight. “I'm rather glad I didn't meet you on the other side of the + mountain—that's 'the Wild Dog.'” The Blight looked incredulous, but + Marston knew the man and knew the horse. + </p> + <p> + So Mart—hard-working Mart—was the Wild Dog, and he was content + to do the Blight all service without thanks, merely for the privilege of + secretly seeing her face now and then; and yet he would not look upon that + face when she was a guest under his roof and asleep. + </p> + <p> + Still, when we dropped behind the two girls I gave Marston the Hon. Sam's + warning, and for a moment he looked rather grave. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, smiling, “if I'm found in the road some day, you'll know + who did it.” + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. “Oh, no; he isn't that bad.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Marston. + </p> + <p> + The smoke of the young engineer's coke ovens lay far below us and the + Blight had never seen a coke-plant before. It looked like Hades even in + the early dusk—the snake-like coil of fiery ovens stretching up the + long, deep ravine, and the smoke-streaked clouds of fire, trailing like a + yellow mist over them, with a fierce white blast shooting up here and + there when the lid of an oven was raised, as though to add fresh + temperature to some particular male-factor in some particular chamber of + torment. Humanity about was joyous, however. Laughter and banter and song + came from the cabins that lined the big ravine and the little ravines + opening into it. A banjo tinkled at the entrance of “Possum Trot,” sacred + to the darkies. We moved toward it. On the stoop sat an ecstatic picker + and in the dust shuffled three pickaninnies—one boy and two girls—the + youngest not five years old. The crowd that was gathered about them gave + way respectfully as we drew near; the little darkies showed their white + teeth in jolly grins, and their feet shook the dust in happy competition. + I showered a few coins for the Blight and on we went—into the mouth + of the many-peaked Gap. The night train was coming in and everybody had a + smile of welcome for the Blight—post-office assistant, drug clerk, + soda-water boy, telegraph operator, hostler, who came for the mules—and + when tired, but happy, she slipped from her saddle to the ground, she then + and there gave me what she usually reserves for Christmas morning, and + that, too, while Marston was looking on. Over her shoulder I smiled at + him. + </p> + <p> + That night Marston and the Blight sat under the vines on the porch until + the late moon rose over Wallens Ridge, and, when bedtime came, the Blight + said impatiently that she did not want to go home. She had to go, however, + next day, but on the next Fourth of July she would surely come again; and, + as the young engineer mounted his horse and set his face toward Black + Mountain, I knew that until that day, for him, a blight would still be in + the hills. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. BACK TO THE HILLS + </h2> + <p> + Winter drew a gray veil over the mountains, wove into it tiny jewels of + frost and turned it many times into a mask of snow, before spring broke + again among them and in Marston's impatient heart. No spring had ever been + like that to him. The coming of young leaves and flowers and bird-song + meant but one joy for the hills to him—the Blight was coming back to + them. All those weary waiting months he had clung grimly to his work. He + must have heard from her sometimes, else I think he would have gone to + her; but I knew the Blight's pen was reluctant and casual for anybody, + and, moreover, she was having a strenuous winter at home. That he knew as + well, for he took one paper, at least, that he might simply read her name. + He saw accounts of her many social doings as well, and ate his heart out + as lovers have done for all time gone and will do for all time to come. + </p> + <p> + I, too, was away all winter, but I got back a month before the Blight, to + learn much of interest that had come about. The Hon. Samuel Budd had + ear-wagged himself into the legislature, had moved that Court-House, and + was going to be State Senator. The Wild Dog had confined his reckless + career to his own hills through the winter, but when spring came, + migratory-like, he began to take frequent wing to the Gap. So far, he and + Marston had never come into personal conflict, though Marston kept ever + ready for him, and several times they had met in the road, eyed each other + in passing and made no hipward gesture at all. But then Marston had never + met him when the Wild Dog was drunk—and when sober, I took it that + the one act of kindness from the engineer always stayed his hand. But the + Police Guard at the Gap saw him quite often—and to it he was a + fearful and elusive nuisance. He seemed to be staying somewhere within a + radius of ten miles, for every night or two he would circle about the + town, yelling and firing his pistol, and when we chased him, escaping + through the Gap or up the valley or down in Lee. Many plans were laid to + catch him, but all failed, and finally he came in one day and gave himself + up and paid his fines. Afterward I recalled that the time of this gracious + surrender to law and order was but little subsequent to one morning when a + woman who brought butter and eggs to my little sister casually asked when + that “purty slim little gal with the snappin' black eyes was a-comin' + back.” And the little sister, pleased with the remembrance, had said + cordially that she was coming soon. + </p> + <p> + Thereafter the Wild Dog was in town every day, and he behaved well until + one Saturday he got drunk again, and this time, by a peculiar chance, it + was Marston again who leaped on him, wrenched his pistol away, and put him + in the calaboose. Again he paid his fine, promptly visited a “blind + Tiger,” came back to town, emptied another pistol at Marston on sight and + fled for the hills. + </p> + <p> + The enraged guard chased him for two days and from that day the Wild Dog + was a marked man. The Guard wanted many men, but if they could have had + their choice they would have picked out of the world of malefactors that + same Wild Dog. + </p> + <p> + Why all this should have thrown the Hon. Samuel Budd into such gloom I + could not understand—except that the Wild Dog had been so loyal a + henchman to him in politics, but later I learned a better reason, that + threatened to cost the Hon. Sam much more than the fines that, as I later + learned, he had been paying for his mountain friend. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the Blight was coming from her Northern home through the green + lowlands of Jersey, the fat pastures of Maryland, and, as the white + dresses of schoolgirls and the shining faces of darkies thickened at the + stations, she knew that she was getting southward. All the way she was + known and welcomed, and next morning she awoke with the keen air of the + distant mountains in her nostrils and an expectant light in her happy + eyes. At least the light was there when she stepped daintily from the + dusty train and it leaped a little, I fancied, when Marston, bronzed and + flushed, held out his sunburnt hand. Like a convent girl she babbled + questions to the little sister as the dummy puffed along and she bubbled + like wine over the midsummer glory of the hills. And well she might, for + the glory of the mountains, full-leafed, shrouded in evening shadows, + blue-veiled in the distance, was unspeakable, and through the Gap the sun + was sending his last rays as though he, too, meant to take a peep at her + before he started around the world to welcome her next day. And she must + know everything at once. The anniversary of the Great Day on which all men + were pronounced free and equal was only ten days distant and preparations + were going on. There would be a big crowd of mountaineers and there would + be sports of all kinds, and games, but the tournament was to be the + feature of the day. + </p> + <p> + “A tournament?” “Yes, a tournament,” repeated the little sister, and + Marston was going to ride and the mean thing would not tell what mediaeval + name he meant to take. And the Hon. Sam Budd—did the Blight remember + him? (Indeed, she did)—had a “dark horse,” and he had bet heavily + that his dark horse would win the tournament—whereat the little + sister looked at Marston and at the Blight and smiled disdainfully. And + the Wild Dog—DID she remember him? I checked the sister here with a + glance, for Marston looked uncomfortable and the Blight saw me do it, and + on the point of saying something she checked herself, and her face, I + thought, paled a little. + </p> + <p> + That night I learned why—when she came in from the porch after + Marston was gone. I saw she had wormed enough of the story out of him to + worry her, for her face this time was distinctly pale. I would tell her no + more than she knew, however, and then she said she was sure she had seen + the Wild Dog herself that afternoon, sitting on his horse in the bushes + near a station in Wildcat Valley. She was sure that he saw her, and his + face had frightened her. I knew her fright was for Marston and not for + herself, so I laughed at her fears. She was mistaken—Wild Dog was an + outlaw now and he would not dare appear at the Gap, and there was no + chance that he could harm her or Marston. And yet I was uneasy. + </p> + <p> + It must have been a happy ten days for those two young people. Every + afternoon Marston would come in from the mines and they would go off + horseback together, over ground that I well knew—for I had been all + over it myself—up through the gray-peaked rhododendron-bordered Gap + with the swirling water below them and the gray rock high above where + another such foolish lover lost his life, climbing to get a flower for his + sweetheart, or down the winding dirt road into Lee, or up through the + beech woods behind Imboden Hill, or climbing the spur of Morris's Farm to + watch the sunset over the majestic Big Black Mountains, where the Wild Dog + lived, and back through the fragrant, cool, moonlit woods. He was doing + his best, Marston was, and he was having trouble—as every man + should. And that trouble I knew even better than he, for I had once known + a Southern girl who was so tender of heart that she could refuse no man + who really loved her she accepted him and sent him to her father, who did + all of her refusing for her. And I knew no man would know that he had won + the Blight until he had her at the altar and the priestly hand of + benediction was above her head. + </p> + <p> + Of such kind was the Blight. Every night when they came in I could read + the story of the day, always in his face and sometimes in hers; and it was + a series of ups and downs that must have wrung the boy's heart bloodless. + Still I was in good hope for him, until the crisis came on the night + before the Fourth. The quarrel was as plain as though typewritten on the + face of each. Marston would not come in that night and the Blight went + dinnerless to bed and cried herself to sleep. She told the little sister + that she had seen the Wild Dog again peering through the bushes, and that + she was frightened. That was her explanation—but I guessed a better + one. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. THE GREAT DAY + </h2> + <p> + It was a day to make glad the heart of slave or freeman. The earth was + cool from a night-long rain, and a gentle breeze fanned coolness from the + north all day long. The clouds were snow-white, tumbling, ever-moving, and + between them the sky showed blue and deep. Grass, leaf, weed and flower + were in the richness that comes to the green things of the earth just + before that full tide of summer whose foam is drifting thistle down. The + air was clear and the mountains seemed to have brushed the haze from their + faces and drawn nearer that they, too, might better see the doings of that + day. + </p> + <p> + From the four winds of heaven, that morning, came the brave and the free. + Up from Lee, down from Little Stone Gap, and from over in Scott, came the + valley-farmers—horseback, in buggies, hacks, two-horse wagons, with + wives, mothers, sisters, sweethearts, in white dresses, flowered hats, and + many ribbons, and with dinner-baskets stuffed with good things to eat—old + ham, young chicken, angel-cake and blackberry wine—to be spread in + the sunless shade of great poplar and oak. From Bum Hollow and Wildcat + Valley and from up the slopes that lead to Cracker's Neck came smaller + tillers of the soil—as yet but faintly marked by the gewgaw + trappings of the outer world; while from beyond High Knob, whose crown is + in cloud-land, and through the Gap, came the mountaineer in the primitive + simplicity of home spun and cowhide, wide-brimmed hat and poke-bonnet, + quaint speech, and slouching gait. Through the Gap he came in two streams—the + Virginians from Crab Orchard and Wise and Dickinson, the Kentuckians from + Letcher and feudal Harlan, beyond the Big Black—and not a man + carried a weapon in sight, for the stern spirit of that Police Guard at + the Gap was respected wide and far. Into the town, which sits on a plateau + some twenty feet above the level of the two rivers that all but encircle + it, they poured, hitching their horses in the strip of woods that runs + through the heart of the place, and broad ens into a primeval park that, + fan-like, opens on the oval level field where all things happen on the + Fourth of July. About the street they loitered—lovers hand in hand—eating + fruit and candy and drinking soda-water, or sat on the curb-stone, mothers + with babies at their breasts and toddling children clinging close—all + waiting for the celebration to begin. + </p> + <p> + It was a great day for the Hon. Samuel Budd. With a cheery smile and + beaming goggles, he moved among his constituents, joking with yokels, + saying nice things to mothers, paying gallantries to girls, and chucking + babies under the chin. He felt popular and he was—so popular that he + had begun to see himself with prophetic eye in a congressional seat at no + distant day; and yet, withal, he was not wholly happy. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” he said, “them fellers I made bets with in the tournament + got together this morning and decided, all of 'em, that they wouldn't let + me off? Jerusalem, it's most five hundred dollars!” And, looking the + picture of dismay, he told me his dilemma. It seems that his “dark horse” + was none other than the Wild Dog, who had been practising at home for this + tournament for nearly a year; and now that the Wild Dog was an outlaw, he, + of course, wouldn't and couldn't come to the Gap. And said the Hon. Sam + Budd: + </p> + <p> + “Them fellers says I bet I'd BRING IN a dark horse who would win this + tournament, and if I don't BRING him in, I lose just the same as though I + had brought him in and he hadn't won. An' I reckon they've got me.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess they have.” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been like pickin' money off a blackberry-bush, for I was + goin' to let the Wild Dog have that black horse o' mine—the + steadiest and fastest runner in this country—and my, how that fellow + can pick off the rings! He's been a-practising for a year, and I believe + he could run the point o' that spear of his through a lady's finger-ring.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better get somebody else.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah—that's it. The Wild Dog sent word he'd send over another feller, + named Dave Branham, who has been practising with him, who's just as good, + he says, as he is. I'm looking for him at twelve o'clock, an' I'm goin' to + take him down an' see what he can do on that black horse o' mine. But if + he's no good, I lose five hundred, all right,” and he sloped away to his + duties. For it was the Hon. Sam who was master of ceremonies that day. He + was due now to read the Declaration of Independence in a poplar grove to + all who would listen; he was to act as umpire at the championship + base-ball game in the afternoon, and he was to give the “Charge” to the + assembled knights before the tournament. + </p> + <p> + At ten o'clock the games began—and I took the Blight and the little + sister down to the “grandstand”—several tiers of backless benches + with leaves for a canopy and the river singing through rhododendrons + behind. There was jumping broad and high, and a 100-yard dash and hurdling + and throwing the hammer, which the Blight said were not interesting—they + were too much like college sports—and she wanted to see the + base-ball game and the tournament. And yet Marston was in them all—dogged + and resistless—his teeth set and his eyes anywhere but lifted toward + the Blight, who secretly proud, as I believed, but openly defiant, + mentioned not his name even when he lost, which was twice only. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty good, isn't he?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” she said indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nobody,” I said, turning to smile, but not turning quickly enough. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you?” asked the Blight sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, nothing at all,” I said, and straightway the Blight thought she + wanted to go home. The thunder of the Declaration was still rumbling in + the poplar grove. + </p> + <p> + “That's the Hon. Sam Budd,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you want to hear him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care who it is and I don't want to hear him and I think you are + hateful.” + </p> + <p> + Ah, dear me, it was more serious than I thought. There were tears in her + eyes, and I led the Blight and the little sister home—conscience-stricken + and humbled. Still I would find that young jackanapes of an engineer and + let him know that anybody who made the Blight unhappy must deal with me. I + would take him by the neck and pound some sense into him. I found him + lofty, uncommunicative, perfectly alien to any consciousness that I could + have any knowledge of what was going or any right to poke my nose into + anybody's business—and I did nothing except go back to lunch—to + find the Blight upstairs and the little sister indignant with me. + </p> + <p> + “You just let them alone,” she said severely. + </p> + <p> + “Let who alone?” I said, lapsing into the speech of childhood. + </p> + <p> + “You—just—let—them—alone,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “I've already made up my mind to that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then!” she said, with an air of satisfaction, but why I don't know. + </p> + <p> + I went back to the poplar grove. The Declaration was over and the crowd + was gone, but there was the Hon. Samuel Budd, mopping his brow with one + hand, slapping his thigh with the other, and all but executing a + pigeon-wing on the turf. He turned goggles on me that literally shone + triumph. + </p> + <p> + “He's come—Dave Branham's come!” he said. “He's better than the Wild + Dog. I've been trying him on the black horse and, Lord, how he can take + them rings off! Ha, won't I get into them fellows who wouldn't let me off + this morning! Oh, yes, I agreed to bring in a dark horse, and I'll bring + him in all right. That five hundred is in my clothes now. You see that + point yonder? Well, there's a hollow there and bushes all around. That's + where I'm going to dress him. I've got his clothes all right and a name + for him. This thing is a-goin' to come off accordin' to Hoyle, Ivanhoe, + Four-Quarters-of-Beef, and all them mediaeval fellows. Just watch me!” + </p> + <p> + I began to get newly interested, for that knight's name I suddenly + recalled. Little Buck, the Wild Dog's brother, had mentioned him, when we + were over in the Kentucky hills, as practising with the Wild Dog—as + being “mighty good, but nowhar 'longside o' Mart.” So the Hon. Sam might + have a good substitute, after all, and being a devoted disciple of Sir + Walter, I knew his knight would rival, in splendor, at least, any that + rode with King Arthur in days of old. + </p> + <p> + The Blight was very quiet at lunch, as was the little sister, and my + effort to be jocose was a lamentable failure. So I gave news. + </p> + <p> + “The Hon. Sam has a substitute.” No curiosity and no question. + </p> + <p> + “Who—did you say? Why, Dave Branham, a friend of the Wild Dog. Don't + you remember Buck telling us about him?” No answer. “Well, I do—and, + by the way, I saw Buck and one of the big sisters just a while ago. Her + name is Mollie. Dave Branham, you will recall, is her sweetheart. The + other big sister had to stay at home with her mother and little Cindy, + who's sick. Of course, I didn't ask them about Mart—the Wild Dog. + They knew I knew and they wouldn't have liked it. The Wild Dog's around, I + understand, but he won't dare show his face. Every policeman in town is on + the lookout for him.” I thought the Blight's face showed a signal of + relief. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to play short-stop,” I added. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the Blight, with a smile, but the little sister said with some + scorn: + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you,” I said, and I told the Blight about base-ball at the Gap. + We had introduced base-ball into the region and the valley boys and + mountain boys, being swift runners, throwing like a rifle shot from + constant practice with stones, and being hard as nails, caught the game + quickly and with great ease. We beat them all the time at first, but now + they were beginning to beat us. We had a league now, and this was the + championship game for the pennant. + </p> + <p> + “It was right funny the first time we beat a native team. Of course, we + got together and cheered 'em. They thought we were cheering ourselves, so + they got red in the face, rushed together and whooped it up for themselves + for about half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + The Blight almost laughed. + </p> + <p> + “We used to have to carry our guns around with us at first when we went to + other places, and we came near having several fights.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the Blight excitedly. “Do you think there might be a fight this + afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know,” I said, shaking my head. “It's pretty hard for eighteen + people to fight when nine of them are policemen and there are forty more + around. Still the crowd might take a hand.” + </p> + <p> + This, I saw, quite thrilled the Blight and she was in good spirits when we + started out. + </p> + <p> + “Marston doesn't pitch this afternoon,” I said to the little sister. “He + plays first base. He's saving himself for the tournament. He's done too + much already.” The Blight merely turned her head while I was speaking. + “And the Hon. Sam will not act as umpire. He wants to save his voice—and + his head.” + </p> + <p> + The seats in the “grandstand” were in the sun now, so I left the girls in + a deserted band-stand that stood on stilts under trees on the southern + side of the field, and on a line midway between third base and the + position of short-stop. Now there is no enthusiasm in any sport that + equals the excitement aroused by a rural base-ball game and I never saw + the enthusiasm of that game outdone except by the excitement of the + tournament that followed that afternoon. The game was close and Marston + and I assuredly were stars—Marston one of the first magnitude. + “Goose-egg” on one side matched “goose-egg” on the other until the end of + the fifth inning, when the engineer knocked a home-run. Spectators threw + their hats into the trees, yelled themselves hoarse, and I saw several old + mountaineers who understood no more of base-ball than of the lost <i>digamma</i> + in Greek going wild with the general contagion. During these innings I had + “assisted” in two doubles and had fired in three “daisy cutters” to first + myself in spite of the guying I got from the opposing rooters. + </p> + <p> + “Four-eyes” they called me on account of my spectacles until a new + nickname came at the last half of the ninth inning, when we were in the + field with the score four to three in our favor. It was then that a small, + fat boy with a paper megaphone longer than he was waddled out almost to + first base and levelling his trumpet at me, thundered out in a sudden + silence: + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Foxy Grandpa!” That was too much. I got rattled, and when there + were three men on bases and two out, a swift grounder came to me, I fell—catching + it—and threw wildly to first from my knees. I heard shouts of + horror, anger, and distress from everywhere and my own heart stopped + beating—I had lost the game—and then Marston leaped in the air—surely + it must have been four feet—caught the ball with his left hand and + dropped back on the bag. The sound of his foot on it and the runner's was + almost simultaneous, but the umpire said Marston's was there first. Then + bedlam! One of my brothers was umpire and the captain of the other team + walked threateningly out toward him, followed by two of his men with + base-ball bats. As I started off myself towards them I saw, with the + corner of my eye, another brother of mine start in a run from the left + field, and I wondered why a third, who was scoring, sat perfectly still in + his chair, particularly as a well-known, red-headed tough from one of the + mines who had been officiously antagonistic ran toward the pitcher's box + directly in front of him. Instantly a dozen of the guard sprang toward it, + some man pulled his pistol, a billy cracked straightway on his head, and + in a few minutes order was restored. And still the brother scoring hadn't + moved from his chair, and I spoke to him hotly. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your shirt on,” he said easily, lifting his score-card with his left + hand and showing his right clinched about his pistol under it. + </p> + <p> + “I was just waiting for that red-head to make a move. I guess I'd have got + him first.” + </p> + <p> + I walked back to the Blight and the little sister and both of them looked + very serious and frightened. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I want to see a real fight, after all,” said the Blight. + “Not this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + It was a little singular and prophetic, but just as the words left her + lips one of the Police Guard handed me a piece of paper. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody in the crowd must have dropped it in my pocket,” he said. On the + paper were scrawled these words: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Look out for the Wild Dog!</i>” + </p> + <p> + I sent the paper to Marston. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. AT LAST—THE TOURNAMENT + </h2> + <p> + At last—the tournament! Ever afterward the Hon. Samuel Budd called + it “The Gentle and Joyous Passage of Arms—not of Ashby—but of + the Gap, by-suh!” The Hon. Samuel had arranged it as nearly after Sir + Walter as possible. And a sudden leap it was from the most modern of games + to a game most ancient. + </p> + <p> + No knights of old ever jousted on a lovelier field than the green little + valley toward which the Hon. Sam waved one big hand. It was level, shorn + of weeds, elliptical in shape, and bound in by trees that ran in a + semicircle around the bank of the river, shut in the southern border, and + ran back to the northern extremity in a primeval little forest that + wood-thrushes, even then, were making musical—all of it shut in by a + wall of living green, save for one narrow space through which the knights + were to enter. In front waved Wallens' leafy ridge and behind rose the + Cumberland Range shouldering itself spur by spur, into the coming sunset + and crashing eastward into the mighty bulk of Powell's Mountain, which + loomed southward from the head of the valley—all nodding sunny + plumes of chestnut. + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Sam had seen us coming from afar apparently, had come forward to + meet us, and he was in high spirits. + </p> + <p> + “I am Prince John and Waldemar and all the rest of 'em this day,” he said, + “and 'it is thus,'” quoting Sir Walter, “that we set the dutiful example + of loyalty to the Queen of Love and Beauty, and are ourselves her guide to + the throne which she must this day occupy.” And so saying, the Hon. Sam + marshalled the Blight to a seat of honor next his own. + </p> + <p> + “And how do you know she is going to be the Queen of Love and Beauty?” + asked the little sister. The Hon. Sam winked at me. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this tournament lies between two gallant knights. One will make her + the Queen of his own accord, if he wins, and if the other wins, he's got + to, or I'll break his head. I've given orders.” And the Hon. Sam looked + about right and left on the people who were his that day. + </p> + <p> + “Observe the nobles and ladies,” he said, still following Sir Walter, and + waving at the towns-people and visitors in the rude grandstand. “Observe + the yeomanry and spectators of a better degree than the mere vulgar”—waving + at the crowd on either side of the stand—“and the promiscuous + multitude down the river banks and over the woods and clinging to the + tree-tops and to yon telegraph-pole. And there is my herald”—pointing + to the cornetist of the local band—“and wait—by my halidom—please + just wait until you see my knight on that black charger o' mine.” + </p> + <p> + The Blight and the little sister were convulsed and the Hon. Sam went on: + </p> + <p> + “Look at my men-at-arms”—the volunteer policemen with bulging + hip-pockets, dangling billies and gleaming shields of office—“and at + my refreshment tents behind”—where peanuts and pink lemonade were + keeping the multitude busy—“and my attendants”—colored + gentlemen with sponges and water-buckets—“the armorers and farriers + haven't come yet. But my knight—I got his clothes in New York—just + wait—Love of Ladies and Glory to the Brave!” Just then there was a + commotion on the free seats on one side of the grandstand. A darky + starting, in all ignorance, to mount them was stopped and jostled none too + good-naturedly back to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “And see,” mused the Hon. Sam, “in lieu of the dog of an unbeliever we + have a dark analogy in that son of Ham.” + </p> + <p> + The little sister plucked me by the sleeve and pointed toward the + entrance. Outside and leaning on the fence were Mollie, the big sister, + and little Buck. Straightway I got up and started for them. They hung + back, but I persuaded them to come, and I led them to seats two tiers + below the Blight—who, with my little sister, rose smiling to greet + them and shake hands—much to the wonder of the nobles and ladies + close about, for Mollie was in brave and dazzling array, blushing + fiercely, and little Buck looked as though he would die of such + conspicuousness. No embarrassing questions were asked about Mart or Dave + Branham, but I noticed that Mollie had purple and crimson ribbons clinched + in one brown hand. The purpose of them was plain, and I whispered to the + Blight: + </p> + <p> + “She's going to pin them on Dave's lance.” The Hon. Sam heard me. + </p> + <p> + “Not on your life,” he said emphatically. “I ain't takin' chances,” and he + nodded toward the Blight. “She's got to win, no matter who loses.” He rose + to his feet suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Glory to the Brave—they're comin'! Toot that horn, son,” he said; + “they're comin',” and the band burst into discordant sounds that would + have made the “wild barbaric music” on the field of Ashby sound like a + lullaby. The Blight stifled her laughter over that amazing music with her + handkerchief, and even the Hon. Sam scowled. + </p> + <p> + “Gee!” he said; “it is pretty bad, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Here they come!” + </p> + <p> + The nobles and ladies on the grandstand, the yeomanry and spectators of + better degree, and the promiscuous multitude began to sway expectantly and + over the hill came the knights, single file, gorgeous in velvets and in + caps, with waving plumes and with polished spears, vertical, resting on + the right stirrup foot and gleaming in the sun. + </p> + <p> + “A goodly array!” murmured the Hon. Sam. + </p> + <p> + A crowd of small boys gathered at the fence below, and I observed the Hon. + Sam's pockets bulging with peanuts. + </p> + <p> + “Largesse!” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” he said, and rising he shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Largessy! largessy!” scattering peanuts by the handful among the + scrambling urchins. + </p> + <p> + Down wound the knights behind the back stand of the base-ball field, and + then, single file, in front of the nobles and ladies, before whom they + drew up and faced, saluting with inverted spears. + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Sam arose—his truncheon a hickory stick—and in a + stentorian voice asked the names of the doughty knights who were there to + win glory for themselves and the favor of fair women. + </p> + <p> + Not all will be mentioned, but among them was the Knight of the Holston—Athelstanic + in build—in black stockings, white negligee shirt, with Byronic + collar, and a broad crimson sash tied with a bow at his right side. There + was the Knight of the Green Valley, in green and gold, a green hat with a + long white plume, lace ruffles at his sleeves, and buckles on + dancing-pumps; a bonny fat knight of Maxwelton Braes, in Highland kilts + and a plaid; and the Knight at Large. + </p> + <p> + “He ought to be caged,” murmured the Hon. Sam; for the Knight at Large + wore plum-colored velvet, red base-ball stockings, held in place with + safety-pins, white tennis shoes, and a very small hat with a very long + plume, and the dye was already streaking his face. Marston was the last—sitting + easily on his iron gray. + </p> + <p> + “And your name, Sir Knight?” + </p> + <p> + “The Discarded,” said Marston, with steady eyes. I felt the Blight start + at my side and sidewise I saw that her face was crimson. + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Sam sat down, muttering, for he did not like Marston: + </p> + <p> + “Wenchless springal!” + </p> + <p> + Just then my attention was riveted on Mollie and little Buck. Both had + been staring silently at the knights as though they were apparitions, but + when Marston faced them I saw Buck clutch his sister's arm suddenly and + say something excitedly in her ear. Then the mouths of both tightened + fiercely and their eyes seemed to be darting lightning at the unconscious + knight, who suddenly saw them, recognized them, and smiled past them at + me. Again Buck whispered, and from his lips I could make out what he said: + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whar's Dave?” but Mollie did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Which is yours, Mr. Budd?” asked the little sister. The Hon. Sam had + leaned back with his thumbs in the arm-holes of his white waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + “He ain't come yet. I told him to come last.” + </p> + <p> + The crowd waited and the knights waited—so long that the Mayor rose + in his seat some twenty feet away and called out: + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, Budd.” + </p> + <p> + “You jus' wait a minute—my man ain't come yet,” he said easily, but + from various places in the crowd came jeering shouts from the men with + whom he had wagered and the Hon. Sam began to look anxious. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what is the matter?” he added in a lower tone. “I dressed him + myself more than an hour ago and I told him to come last, but I didn't + mean for him to wait till Christmas—ah!” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Sam sank back in his seat again. From somewhere had come suddenly + the blare of a solitary trumpet that rang in echoes around the + amphitheatre of the hills and, a moment later, a dazzling something shot + into sight above the mound that looked like a ball of fire, coming in + mid-air. The new knight wore a shining helmet and the Hon. Sam chuckled at + the murmur that rose and then he sat up suddenly. There was no face under + that helmet—the Hon. Sam's knight was MASKED and the Hon. Sam + slapped his thigh with delight. + </p> + <p> + “Bully—bully! I never thought of it—I never thought of it—bully!” + </p> + <p> + This was thrilling, indeed—but there was more; the strange knight's + body was cased in a flexible suit of glistening mail, his spear point, + when he raised it on high, shone like silver, and he came on like a + radiant star—on the Hon. Sam's charger, white-bridled, with long + mane and tail and black from tip of nose to tip of that tail as midnight. + The Hon. Sam was certainly doing it well. At a slow walk the stranger drew + alongside of Marston and turned his spear point downward. + </p> + <p> + “Gawd!” said an old darky. “Ku-klux done come again.” And, indeed, it + looked like a Ku-klux mask, white, dropping below the chin, and with + eye-holes through which gleamed two bright fires. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of Buck and Mollie were turned from Marston at last, and + open-mouthed they stared. + </p> + <p> + “Hit's the same hoss—hit's Dave!” said Buck aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my Lord!” said Mollie simply. + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Sam rose again. + </p> + <p> + “And who is Sir Tardy Knight that hither comes with masked face?” he asked + courteously. He got no answer. + </p> + <p> + “What's your name, son?” + </p> + <p> + The white mask puffed at the wearer's lips. + </p> + <p> + “The Knight of the Cumberland,” was the low, muffled reply. + </p> + <p> + “Make him take that thing off!” shouted some one. + </p> + <p> + “What's he got it on fer?” shouted another. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, friend,” said the Hon. Sam; “but it is not my business nor + prithee thine; since by the laws of the tournament a knight may ride + masked for a specified time or until a particular purpose is achieved, + that purpose being, I wot, victory for himself and for me a handful of + byzants from thee.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, go ahead, Budd,” called the Mayor again. “Are you going crazy?” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Sam stretched out his arms once to loosen them for gesture, + thrust his chest out, and uplifted his chin: “Fair ladies, nobles of the + realm, and good knights,” he said sonorously, and he raised one hand to + his mouth and behind it spoke aside to me: + </p> + <p> + “How's my voice—how's my voice?” + </p> + <p> + “Great!” His question was genuine, for the mask of humor had dropped and + the man was transformed. I knew his inner seriousness, his oratorical + command of good English, and I knew the habit, not uncommon among + stump-speakers in the South, of falling, through humor, carelessness, or + for the effect of flattering comradeship, into all the lingual sins of + rural speech; but I was hardly prepared for the soaring flight the Hon. + Sam took now. He started with one finger pointed heavenward: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The knights are dust + And their good swords are rast; + Their souls are with the saints, we trust.” + </pre> + <p> + “Scepticism is but a harmless phantom in these mighty hills. We BELIEVE + that with the saints is the GOOD knight's soul, and if, in the radiant + unknown, the eyes of those who have gone before can pierce the little + shadow that lies between, we know that the good knights of old look gladly + down on these good knights of to-day. For it is good to be remembered. The + tireless struggle for name and fame since the sunrise of history attests + it; and the ancestry worship in the East and the world-wide hope of + immortality show the fierce hunger in the human soul that the memory of it + not only shall not perish from this earth, but that, across the Great + Divide, it shall live on—neither forgetting nor forgotten. You are + here in memory of those good knights to prove that the age of chivalry is + not gone; that though their good swords are rust, the stainless soul of + them still illumines every harmless spear point before me and makes it a + torch that shall reveal, in your own hearts still aflame, their courage, + their chivalry, their sense of protection for the weak, and the honor in + which they held pure women, brave men, and almighty God. + </p> + <p> + “The tournament, some say, goes back to the walls of Troy. The form of it + passed with the windmills that Don Quixote charged. It is with you to keep + the high spirit of it an ever-burning vestal fire. It was a deadly play of + old—it is a harmless play to you this day. But the prowess of the + game is unchanged; for the skill to strike those pendent rings is no less + than was the skill to strike armor-joint, visor, or plumed crest. It was + of old an exercise for deadly combat on the field of battle; it is no less + an exercise now to you for the field of life—for the quick eye, the + steady nerve, and the deft hand which shall help you strike the mark at + which, outside these lists, you aim. And the crowning triumph is still + just what it was of old—that to the victor the Rose of his world—made + by him the Queen of Love and Beauty for us all—shall give her smile + and with her own hands place on his brow a thornless crown.” + </p> + <p> + Perfect silence honored the Hon. Samuel Budd. The Mayor was nodding + vigorous approval, the jeering ones kept still, and when after the last + deep-toned word passed like music from his lips the silence held sway for + a little while before the burst of applause came. Every knight had + straightened in his saddle and was looking very grave. Marston's eyes + never left the speaker's face, except once, when they turned with an + unconscious appeal, I thought, to the downcast face of Blight—whereat + the sympathetic little sister seemed close to tears. The Knight of the + Cumberland shifted in his saddle as though he did not quite understand + what was going on, and once Mollie, seeing the eyes through the mask-holes + fixed on her, blushed furiously, and little Buck grinned back a delighted + recognition. The Hon. Sam sat down, visibly affected by his own eloquence; + slowly he wiped his face and then he rose again. + </p> + <p> + “Your colors, Sir Knights,” he said, with a commanding wave of his + truncheon, and one by one the knights spurred forward and each held his + lance into the grandstand that some fair one might tie thereon the colors + he was to wear. Marston, without looking at the Blight, held his up to the + little sister and the Blight carelessly turned her face while the demure + sister was busy with her ribbons, but I noticed that the little ear next + to me was tingling red for all her brave look of unconcern. Only the + Knight of the Cumberland sat still. + </p> + <p> + “What!” said the Hon. Sam, rising to his feet, his eyes twinkling and his + mask of humor on again; “sees this masked springal”—the Hon. Sam + seemed much enamored of that ancient word—“no maid so fair that he + will not beg from her the boon of colors gay that he may carry them to + victory and receive from her hands a wreath therefor?” Again the Knight of + the Cumberland seemed not to know that the Hon. Sam's winged words were + meant for him, so the statesman translated them into a mutual vernacular. + </p> + <p> + “Remember what I told you, son,” he said. “Hold up yo' spear here to some + one of these gals jes' like the other fellows are doin',” and as he sat + down he tried surreptitiously to indicate the Blight with his index + finger, but the knight failed to see and the Blight's face was so + indignant and she rebuked him with such a knife-like whisper that, + humbled, the Hon. Sam collapsed in his seat, muttering: + </p> + <p> + “The fool don't know you—he don't know you.” + </p> + <p> + For the Knight of the Cumberland had turned the black horse's head and was + riding, like Ivanhoe, in front of the nobles and ladies, his eyes burning + up at them through the holes in his white mask. Again he turned, his mask + still uplifted, and the behavior of the beauties there, as on the field of + Ashby, was no whit changed: “Some blushed, some assumed an air of pride + and dignity, some looked straight forward and essayed to seem utterly + unconscious of what was going on, some drew back in alarm which was + perhaps affected, some endeavored to forbear smiling and there were two or + three who laughed outright.” Only none “dropped a veil over her charms” + and thus none incurred the suspicion, as on that field of Ashby, that she + was “a beauty of ten years' standing” whose motive, gallant Sir Walter + supposes in defence, however, was doubtless “a surfeit of such vanities + and a willingness to give a fair chance to the rising beauties of the + age.” But the most conscious of the fair was Mollie below, whose face was + flushed and whose brown fingers were nervously twisting the ribbons in her + lap, and I saw Buck nudge her and heard him whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Dave ain't going to pick YOU out, I tell ye. I heered Mr. Budd thar + myself tell him he HAD to pick out some other gal.” + </p> + <p> + “You hush!” said Mollie indignantly. + </p> + <p> + It looked as though the Knight of the Cumberland had grown rebellious and + meant to choose whom he pleased, but on his way back the Hon. Sam must + have given more surreptitious signs, for the Knight of the Cumberland + reined in before the Blight and held up his lance to her. Straightway the + colors that were meant for Marston fluttered from the Knight of the + Cumberland's spear. I saw Marston bite his lips and I saw Mollie's face + aflame with fury and her eyes darting lightning—no longer at Marston + now, but at the Blight. The mountain girl held nothing against the city + girl because of the Wild Dog's infatuation, but that her own lover, no + matter what the Hon. Sam said, should give his homage also to the Blight, + in her own presence, was too much. Mollie looked around no more. Again the + Hon. Sam rose. + </p> + <p> + “Love of ladies,” he shouted, “splintering of lances! Stand forth, gallant + knights. Fair eyes look upon your deeds! Toot again, son!” + </p> + <p> + Now just opposite the grandstand was a post some ten feet high, with a + small beam projecting from the top toward the spectators. From the end of + this hung a wire, the end of which was slightly upturned in line with the + course, and on the tip of this wire a steel ring about an inch in diameter + hung lightly. Nearly forty yards below this was a similar ring similarly + arranged; and at a similar distance below that was still another, and at + the blast from the Hon. Sam's herald, the gallant knights rode slowly, two + by two, down the lists to the western extremity—the Discarded Knight + and the Knight of the Cumberland, stirrup to stirrup, riding last—where + they all drew up in line, some fifty yards beyond the westernmost post. + This distance they took that full speed might be attained before jousting + at the first ring, since the course—much over one hundred yards long—must + be covered in seven seconds or less, which was no slow rate of speed. The + Hon. Sam arose again: + </p> + <p> + “The Knight of the Holston!” + </p> + <p> + Farther down the lists a herald took up the same cry and the good knight + of Athelstanic build backed his steed from the line and took his place at + the head of the course. + </p> + <p> + With his hickory truncheon the Hon. Sam signed to his trumpeter to sound + the onset. + </p> + <p> + “Now, son!” he said. + </p> + <p> + With the blare of the trumpet Athelstane sprang from his place and came up + the course, his lance at rest; a tinkling sound and the first ring slipped + down the knight's spear and when he swept past the last post there was a + clapping of hands, for he held three rings triumphantly aloft. And thus + they came, one by one, until each had run the course three times, the + Discarded jousting next to the last and the Knight of the Cumberland, + riding with a reckless Cave, Adsum air, the very last. At the second joust + it was quite evident that the victory lay between these two, as they only + had not lost a single ring, and when the black horse thundered by, the + Hon. Sam shouted “Brave lance!” and jollied his betting enemies, while + Buck hugged himself triumphantly and Mollie seemed temporarily to lose her + chagrin and anger in pride of her lover, Dave. On the third running the + Knight of the Cumberland excited a sensation by sitting upright, waving + his lance up and down between the posts and lowering it only when the ring + was within a few feet of its point. His recklessness cost him one ring, + but as the Discarded had lost one, they were still tied, with eight rings + to the credit of each, for the first prize. Only four others were left—the + Knight of the Holston and the Knight of the Green Valley tying with seven + rings for second prize, and the fat Maxwelton Braes and the Knight at + Large tying with six rings for the third. The crowd was eager now and the + Hon. Sam confident. On came the Knight at Large, his face a rainbow, his + plume wilted and one red base-ball stocking slipped from its moorings—two + rings! On followed the fat Maxwelton, his plaid streaming and his kilts + flapping about his fat legs—also two rings! + </p> + <p> + “Egad!” quoth the Hon. Sam. “Did yon lusty trencherman of Annie Laurie's + but put a few more layers of goodly flesh about his ribs, thereby + projecting more his frontal Falstaffian proportions, by my halidom, he + would have to joust tandem!” + </p> + <p> + On came Athelstane and the Knight of the Green Valley, both with but two + rings to their credit, and on followed the Discarded, riding easily, and + the Knight of the Cumberland again waving his lance between the posts, + each with three rings on his spear. At the end the Knight at Large stood + third, Athelstane second, and the Discarded and the Knight of the + Cumberland stood side by side at the head of the course, still even, and + now ready to end the joust, for neither on the second trial had missed a + ring. + </p> + <p> + The excitement was intense now. Many people seemed to know who the Knight + of the Cumberland was, for there were shouts of “Go it, Dave!” from + everywhere; the rivalry of class had entered the contest and now it was a + conflict between native and “furriner.” The Hon. Sam was almost beside + himself with excitement; now and then some man with whom he had made a bet + would shout jeeringly at him and the Hon. Sam would shout back defiance. + But when the trumpet sounded he sat leaning forward with his brow wrinkled + and his big hands clinched tight. Marston sped up the course first—three + rings—and there was a chorus of applauding yells. + </p> + <p> + “His horse is gittin' tired,” said the Hon. Sam jubilantly, and the + Blight's face, I noticed, showed for the first time faint traces of + indignation. The Knight of the Cumberland was taking no theatrical chances + now and he came through the course with level spear and, with three rings + on it, he shot by like a thunderbolt. + </p> + <p> + “Hooray!” shouted the Hon. Sam. “Lord, what a horse!” For the first time + the Blight, I observed, failed to applaud, while Mollie was clapping her + hands and Buck was giving out shrill yells of encouragement. At the next + tilt the Hon. Sam had his watch in his hand and when he saw the Discarded + digging in his spurs he began to smile and he was looking at his watch + when the little tinkle in front told him that the course was run. + </p> + <p> + “Did he get 'em all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he got 'em all,” mimicked the Blight. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, an' he just did make it,” chuckled the Hon. Sam. The Discarded had + wheeled his horse aside from the course to watch his antagonist. He looked + pale and tired—almost as tired as his foam-covered steed—but + his teeth were set and his face was unmoved as the Knight of the + Cumberland came on like a demon, sweeping off the last ring with a low, + rasping oath of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “I never seed Dave ride that-a-way afore,” said Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Me, neither,” chimed in Buck. + </p> + <p> + The nobles and ladies were waving handkerchiefs, clapping hands, and + shouting. The spectators of better degree were throwing up their hats and + from every part of the multitude the same hoarse shout of encouragement + rose: + </p> + <p> + “Go it, Dave! Hooray for Dave!” while the boy on the telegraph-pole was + seen to clutch wildly at the crossbar on which he sat—he had come + near tumbling from his perch. + </p> + <p> + The two knights rode slowly back to the head of the lists, where the + Discarded was seen to dismount and tighten his girth. + </p> + <p> + “He's tryin' to git time to rest,” said the Hon. Sam. “Toot, son!” + </p> + <p> + “Shame!” said the little sister and the Blight both at once so severely + that the Hon. Sam quickly raised his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on,” he said, and with hand still uplifted he waited till Marston + was mounted again. “Now!” + </p> + <p> + The Discarded came on, using his spurs with every jump, the red of his + horse's nostrils showing that far away, and he swept on, spearing off the + rings with deadly accuracy and holding the three aloft, but having no need + to pull in his panting steed, who stopped of his own accord. Up went a + roar, but the Hon. Sam, covertly glancing at his watch, still smiled. That + watch he pulled out when the Knight of the Cumberland started and he + smiled still when he heard the black horse's swift, rhythmic beat and he + looked up only when that knight, shouting to his horse, moved his lance up + and down before coming to the last ring and, with a dare-devil yell, swept + it from the wire. + </p> + <p> + “Tied—tied!” was the shout; “they've got to try it again! they've + got to try it again!” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Sam rose, with his watch in one hand and stilling the tumult with + the other. Dead silence came at once. + </p> + <p> + “I fear me,” he said, “that the good knight, the Discarded, has failed to + make the course in the time required by the laws of the tournament.” + Bedlam broke loose again and the Hon. Sam waited, still gesturing for + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Summon the time-keeper!” he said. + </p> + <p> + The time-keeper appeared from the middle of the field and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Eight seconds!” “The Knight of the Cumberland wins,” said the Hon. Sam. + </p> + <p> + The little sister, unconscious of her own sad face, nudged me to look at + the Blight—there were tears in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Before the grandstand the knights slowly drew up again. Marston's horse + was so lame and tired that he dismounted and let a darky boy lead him + under the shade of the trees. But he stood on foot among the other + knights, his arms folded, worn out and vanquished, but taking his bitter + medicine like a man. I thought the Blight's eyes looked pityingly upon + him. + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Sam arose with a crown of laurel leaves in his hand: + </p> + <p> + “You have fairly and gallantly won, Sir Knight of the Cumberland, and it + is now your right to claim and receive from the hands of the Queen of Love + and Beauty the chaplet of honor which your skill has justly deserved. + Advance, Sir Knight of the Cumberland, and dismount!” + </p> + <p> + The Knight of the Cumberland made no move nor sound. + </p> + <p> + “Get off yo' hoss, son,” said the Hon. Sam kindly, “and get down on yo' + knees at the feet of them steps. This fair young Queen is a-goin' to put + this chaplet on your shinin' brow. That horse'll stand.” + </p> + <p> + The Knight of the Cumberland, after a moment's hesitation, threw his leg + over the saddle and came to the steps with a slouching gait and looking + about him right and left. The Blight, blushing prettily, took the chaplet + and went down the steps to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “Unmask!” I shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, son,” said the Hon. Sam, “take that rag off.” + </p> + <p> + Then Mollie's voice, clear and loud, startled the crowd. “You better not, + Dave Branham, fer if you do and this other gal puts that thing on you, + you'll never—” What penalty she was going to inflict, I don't know, + for the Knight of the Cumberland, half kneeling, sprang suddenly to his + feet and interrupted her. “Wait a minute, will ye?” he said almost + fiercely, and at the sound of his voice Mollie rose to her feet and her + face blanched. + </p> + <p> + “Lord God!” she said almost in anguish, and then she dropped quickly to + her seat again. + </p> + <p> + The Knight of the Cumberland had gone back to his horse as though to get + something from his saddle. Like lightning he vaulted into the saddle, and + as the black horse sprang toward the opening tore his mask from his face, + turned in his stirrups, and brandished his spear with a yell of defiance, + while a dozen voices shouted: + </p> + <p> + “The Wild Dog!” Then was there an uproar. + </p> + <p> + “Goddle mighty!” shouted the Hon. Sam. “I didn't do it, I swear I didn't + know it. He's tricked me—he's tricked me! Don't shoot—you + might hit that hoss!” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt about the Hon. Sam's innocence. Instead of turning over + an outlaw to the police, he had brought him into the inner shrine of law + and order and he knew what a political asset for his enemies that insult + would be. And there was no doubt of the innocence of Mollie and Buck as + they stood, Mollie wringing her hands and Buck with open mouth and + startled face. There was no doubt about the innocence of anybody other + than Dave Branham and the dare-devil Knight of the Cumberland. + </p> + <p> + Marston had clutched at the Wild Dog's bridle and missed and the outlaw + struck savagely at him with his spear. Nobody dared to shoot because of + the scattering crowd, but every knight and every mounted policeman took + out after the outlaw and the beating of hoofs pounded over the little + mound and toward Poplar Hill. Marston ran to his horse at the upper end, + threw his saddle on, and hesitated—there were enough after the Wild + Dog and his horse was blown. He listened to the yells and sounds of the + chase encircling Poplar Hill. The outlaw was making for Lee. All at once + the yells and hoof-beats seemed to sound nearer and Marston listened, + astonished. The Wild Dog had wheeled and was coming back; he was going to + make for the Gap, where sure safety lay. Marston buckled his girth and as + he sprang on his horse, unconsciously taking his spear with him, the Wild + Dog dashed from the trees at the far end of the field. As Marston started + the Wild Dog saw him, pulled something that flashed from under his coat of + mail, thrust it back again, and brandishing his spear, he came, full speed + and yelling, up the middle of the field. It was a strange thing to happen + in these modern days, but Marston was an officer of the law and was + between the Wild Dog and the Ford and liberty through the Gap, into the + hills. The Wild Dog was an outlaw. It was Marston's duty to take him. + </p> + <p> + The law does not prescribe with what weapon the lawless shall be subdued, + and Marston's spear was the only weapon he had. Moreover, the Wild Dog's + yell was a challenge that set his blood afire and the girl both loved was + looking on. The crowd gathered the meaning of the joust—the knights + were crashing toward each other with spears at rest. There were a few + surprised oaths from men, a few low cries from women, and then dead + silence in which the sound of hoofs on the hard turf was like thunder. The + Blight's face was white and the little sister was gripping my arm with + both hands. A third horseman shot into view out of the woods at tight + angles, to stop them, and it seemed that the three horses must crash + together in a heap. With a moan the Blight buried her face on my shoulder. + She shivered when the muffled thud of body against body and the + splintering of wood rent the air; a chorus of shrieks arose about her, and + when she lifted her frightened face Marston, the Discarded, was limp on + the ground, his horse was staggering to his feet, and the Wild Dog was + galloping past her, his helmet gleaming, his eyes ablaze, his teeth set, + the handle of his broken spear clinched in his right hand, and blood + streaming down the shoulder of the black horse. She heard the shots that + were sent after him, she heard him plunge into the river, and then she saw + and heard no more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. THE KNIGHT PASSES + </h2> + <p> + A telegram summoned the Blight a home next day. Marston was in bed with a + ragged wound in the shoulder, and I took her to tell him good-by. I left + the room for a few minutes, and when I came back their hands were + unclasping, and for a Discarded Knight the engineer surely wore a happy + though pallid face. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon the train on which we left the Gap was brought to a sudden + halt in Wildcat Valley by a piece of red flannel tied to the end of a + stick that was planted midway the track. Across the track, farther on, lay + a heavy piece of timber, and it was plain that somebody meant that, just + at that place, the train must stop. The Blight and I were seated on the + rear platform and the Blight was taking a last look at her beloved hills. + When the train started again, there was a cracking of twigs overhead and a + shower of rhododendron leaves and flowers dropped from the air at the feet + of the Blight. And when we pulled away from the high-walled cut we saw, + motionless on a little mound, a black horse, and on him, motionless, the + Knight of the Cumberland, the helmet on his head (that the Blight might + know who he was, no doubt), and both hands clasping the broken handle of + his spear, which rested across the pommel of his saddle. Impulsively the + Blight waved her hand to him and I could not help waving my hat; but he + sat like a statue and, like a statue, sat on, simply looking after us as + we were hurried along, until horse, broken shaft, and shoulders sank out + of sight. And thus passed the Knight of the Cumberland with the last gleam + that struck his helmet, spear-like, from the slanting sun. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Knight of the Cumberland, by John Fox Jr. + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND *** + +***** This file should be named 324-h.htm or 324-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/324/ + +Produced by Mike Lough, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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