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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>JACK BALLINGTON, FORESTER</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="Jack Ballington, Forester" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="John Trotwood Moore" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1911" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="George Gibbs" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="45652" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2014-05-23" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="Jack Ballington, Forester" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="Jack Ballington, Forester" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="jack.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2014-05-23T18:33:39.867493+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45652" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="John Trotwood Moore" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="George Gibbs" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2014-05-23" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="jack-ballington-forester"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">JACK BALLINGTON, FORESTER</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: Jack Ballington, Forester -<br /> -<br />Author: John Trotwood Moore -<br /> -<br />Release Date: May 23, 2014 [EBook #45652] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>JACK BALLINGTON, FORESTER</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-46"> -<span id="cover-art"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover art" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover art</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 62%" id="figure-47"> -<span id="i-was-never-so-happy"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="I WAS NEVER SO HAPPY" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">I WAS NEVER SO HAPPY (Page </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#id1">80</a><span class="italics">)</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">JACK BALLINGTON -<br />FORESTER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "OLD MISTIS;" "A SUMMER HYMNAL;" -<br />"THE BISHOP OF COTTONTOWN;" -<br />"UNCLE WASH," ETC.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">ILLUSTRATIONS BY GEORGE GIBBS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THOMAS LANGTON -<br />TORONTO, CANADA.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright, 1911, by -<br />THE JOHN C. WINSTON Co.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO THE TWINS -<br />HELEN AND MARY DANIEL MOORE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE HEIR OF THE BLUEGRASS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>I </span><a class="reference internal" href="#soul-dreams-and-the-soil">Soul Dreams and the Soil</a><span> -<br />II </span><a class="reference internal" href="#little-sister">Little Sister</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"A TWILIGHT PIECE"</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>I </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-flame-in-the-wood">The Flame in the Wood</a><span> -<br />II </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-home-stretch">The Home-Stretch</a><span> -<br />III </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hickories">The Hickories</a><span> -<br />IV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#colonel-goff">Colonel Goff</a><span> -<br />V </span><a class="reference internal" href="#pedigrees-and-principles">Pedigrees and Principles</a><span> -<br />VI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-make-believe">The Make-Believe</a><span> -<br />VII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-chimes-of-the-wisteria">The Chimes of the Wisteria</a><span> -<br />VIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-stone-crop">The Stone-Crop</a><span> -<br />IX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-transplanted-pine">The Transplanted Pine</a><span> -<br />X </span><a class="reference internal" href="#conquering-satan">Conquering Satan</a><span> -<br />XI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#two-ways-of-love">Two Ways of Love</a><span> -<br />XII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#work-and-mine-acre">Work and Mine Acre</a><span> -<br />XIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-unattainable">The Unattainable</a><span> -<br />XIV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#god-and-a-butterfly">God and a Butterfly</a><span> -<br />XV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#hickories-and-old-hickory">Hickories and Old Hickory</a><span> -<br />XVI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#heart-s-ease">Heart's Ease</a><span> -<br />XVII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#lady-carfax">"Lady Carfax"</a><span> -<br />XVIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-last-dance">The Last Dance</a><span> -<br />XIX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-high-jump">The High Jump</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE HICKORY'S SON</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>I </span><a class="reference internal" href="#love-is-not-love-that-alters">"Love is not Love That Alters"</a><span> -<br />II </span><a class="reference internal" href="#a-dream-and-its-ending">A Dream and Its Ending</a><span> -<br />III </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-awakening">The Awakening</a><span> -<br />IV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-call-of-the-drum">The Call of the Drum</a><span> -<br />V </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-first-tennessee">The First Tennessee</a><span> -<br />VI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-battle-in-the-bacaue-mountains">The Battle in the Bacaue Mountains</a><span> -<br />VII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-juramentados">The Juramentados</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE BURGEONING</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>I </span><a class="reference internal" href="#two-of-a-kind">Two of a Kind</a><span> -<br />II </span><a class="reference internal" href="#how-aunt-lucretia-ran-away">How Aunt Lucretia Ran Away</a><span> -<br />III </span><a class="reference internal" href="#a-night-with-captain-skipper">A Night with Captain Skipper</a><span> -<br />IV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#my-first-automobile">My First Automobile</a><span> -<br />V </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-sick-tree">The Sick Tree</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">ILLUSTRATIONS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-was-never-so-happy">I Was Never So Happy</a><span> . . . . . . </span><em class="italics">Frontispiece</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#stop-herhe-ll-kill-her-i-cried">"Stop Her—He'll Kill Her," I Cried</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#id2">"Love is not Love that Alters."</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-was-on-him-my-knee-on-his-breast">I was on Him, My Knee on His Breast</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">FOREWORD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">I am the child of the Centuries. I am the son -of the Æons which were. I have always been, -and I shall always be. To make me it has taken -fire, star-dust, and the Spirit of God—the lives -of billions of people, and the lights of a million -suns.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">I have grown from sun and star-dust to the -Thing-Which-Thinks.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">It were the basest ingratitude if I were not both -thankful to God and proud of my pedigree.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">What has come to me has been good; what shall -come will be better: for I am Evolution, and I -grow ever to greater things. Life has been good; -death will be better; for it is the cause of all my -past, making for a still greater future.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">And this I know, not from Books nor from -Knowledge, but from the unafraid, never silent -voice of Instinct within me, which is God.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">My debt to the past is great: I can never, in -full, repay it; for they, my creditors, passed with -it. They left me a world beautiful: shall I make -it a world bare? They left a world bountiful: -shall I leave it blazed and barren to the sands of -death?</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">I am in debt to the Past. Shall the Future -present the bill to find that I have gone to my grave -a bankrupt? Find that I have wantonly laid -waste the land, leaving no root of wild flower, -no shade of tree, no spring that falleth from the -hills?</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Shall I destroy their trees for the little gain it -may bring to my short Life-tenantry? Shall I -make of their land a desert by day and a deluge -by night? Shall I stamp with the degeneracy of -gullies my own offspring, and scar with the red -birth-mark of poverty the unborn of my own -breed?</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">I live, charged with a great Goodness from the -Past: I can die, paying it, only by a greater -Kindness for the Future.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="soul-dreams-and-the-soil"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE HEIR OF THE BLUEGRASS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">JACK BALLINGTON, -<br />FORESTER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">SOUL-DREAMS AND THE SOIL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Those who live near to Nature learn much: for -it is only by living close to her that we learn from -her. The best advice ever given on longevity was -from the cheery old gentleman who said: "To -live long, live naturally; eat what you want, and -walk on the sunny side of the street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>School children think that some wise man made -all the hard rules of grammar that grown-up folks -try to teach them. They do not know that the -child-man learned to talk first and that the rules -were made from his speech. It is like the simple -people at the circus who think the trained horse -is dancing to the music; it is the music that is -dancing to him. From the facts of life we draw -our rules just as the scholars made rules of -grammar from the facts of language.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nature is the One great Fact.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was thinking of one of her facts the other -day—she has so many—but one I had noticed very -plainly: the man who lives close to her is an -optimist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Let the farmer fail year after year, and still he -plants, hoping. Let the merchant fall behind one -year and he is shaken; another year, and he quits. -One season of deep water-hauling sends the -fisherman home to his fields. When the wild game -vanishes the pioneer hunter becomes the pioneer -farmer. The merchant, the lawyer, the doctor,—there -never was one who did not dream, betimes, -over his books, that he would yet live to -retire and till his acres.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every failure in life goes back to the soil for a -new start.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is the fact; now for the rule. It is this: -God intended that man should be, first of all, a -soil-worker. And tilling the soil includes not only -planting, but bringing all growing and living things -thereon to strength.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rearing things on the soil is man's natural vocation, -since neither drought, nor flood, nor failure, -can shut out from his heart that instinct of hope -which has come down through so many centuries -of soil-loving ancestors. The hoping instinct has -been housed in him so long that it is part of his -heredity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maritime nations found empires, but not -religions. Religions come from the soil. Men, -living in the open, watching their flocks by night, find -in the eternal wonder of the soul-questioning stars -that which satisfies their own souls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Imagine fighting Rome founding a religion! -Or bookish Greece! Or the trading Saxon!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Religions come from mangers. All great -soul-dreams were born amid flocks and herds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This is my own story, and the telling of it shall -be in my own way. And as I am not a writer, -but a forester, doubtless my telling will be all -awry. For I have seen enough of life to know -that the generals who have won in the field of -fiction, like the generals who have won in the field -of fact, have won because they have had the drilling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in my case the drilling has been only -trees—trees, and their children, the flowers.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="little-sister"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">LITTLE SISTER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This is my story, as I said, and the telling of -it must be in my own way. That is why I am -giving this chapter first—because it happened -first—four years before the real story began. -Another reason is that in the telling of it I -can set forth the characters of the old general, -my grandsire, who believed in fighting; of my -Aunt Lucretia, his daughter, who believed in -pedigrees; of Eloise, the beautiful and daring one, who -believed in dancing and riding and shooting, and -in making those who loved her miserable; of -Colonel Goff, an Englishman, who believed in horses -and hounds; and of Little Sister, who believed in -Uncle Jack; and even of myself, Uncle Jack, who -believed in trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little Sister is the three-year-old daughter of -my brother Ned Ballington, who, with his lovely -wife, Thesis, and his major domo, Uncle Wash -(a colored gentleman of the Old School), and his -other live things and birds, resides on the farm -adjoining ours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Little Sister, whose real name is Mildred, -and her brother, two years younger, who was -baptized Edward, but whom Uncle Jack had -nicknamed Captain Skipper, because nothing could -keep him still, spent the most of their time at The -Home Stretch, the home of their great grandsire, -General John Rutherford, where also lived their -Aunt Lucretia, and Eloise, and Uncle Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was either very hot or very cold on those -days when Uncle Jack did not drive them over to -spend the day, and maybe a night, too. Once in -a great while the footing was too slippery for the -pony. But these omissions occurred, at the most, -perhaps twice each summer and winter; for the -heart of the Middle Basin, that beautiful bluegrass -country in which they live, beats in the breast -of Summer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Rutherford, the First, built The Home -Stretch in 1800. It adjoined the lands of -Andrew Jackson, and the very spirit of the old -fighter hangs over the place. For John Rutherford -had loved him—nay, had lived, fought, and -died for him—at New Orleans. There is a -tradition that Old Hickory himself named the -place—in fact, that John Rutherford owned it for no -other reason than that his horse beat Andrew -Jackson's in the home stretch. The bet was a -thousand acres of land. The race track may still -be seen at Clover Bottom, just across the way, -where Stone's River makes a bend around a -hundred acres of land, rich as ever the crow made -a granary of, and as level as Chalmette Plain, -where Jackson's riflemen stopped the British -before New Orleans.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little Sister was a fair, frail, sensitive little tot. -Her bright blue eyes, pale pink face and dark -brown hair kept one thinking of full summer -moons rainbowed at night. And her temper—she -was fire and powder there—a flash, maybe a -clenched small fist, a small foot brought down in -sudden scorn—an explosion—and then she was -sobbing for forgiveness in your arms. That was -Little Sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once she slapped Aunt Lucretia in the face. -"I can't see where in the world she gets her -temper from," Aunt Lucretia said; "for if there is -an angel on earth it is Thesis, her mother. -General Rutherford" (Aunt Lucretia always called -her father General Rutherford), "this child ought -to be spanked till she is conquered. Her mother -sends her over here expecting us to make her behave."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut, tut, Madam," said the General (he -always called his daughter madam), "that is not -the way to break colts. That kind of a conquering -would spoil her. She'll need all of that temper, -when she knows enough to control it, to get -through life and land anywhere near the wire first. -Besides, with her sensitiveness, don't you see she -is suffering now more than if we had punished -her? If she were a plug now" (for the General -hated nothing so much as a plug), "she would -never be sorry till you made her sorry with a -beating. But the conscience of a thoroughbred -beats hickory, and gentleness, Madam, is away -ahead of blows in everything but war—and we -are not fighting now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then to make sure that she did not get a whipping, -Uncle Jack, who was eighteen and preparing -for college, would snatch her away from Aunt -Lucretia and take her out to see the colts. At -sight of them her troubles vanished; for her love -of all live things which are born on a stock farm -was as deep as her Ballington blood. A great -burst of sunshine would spread over her -conscience-stricken face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Uncle Jack, aren't they just too sweet for -anything? Do let me get down this minute and -hug them—every one!" And Uncle Jack would -let her, if he had to catch each colt himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The clear-cut way she talked English! And -her great heart of motherhood! These were the -two wonderful things in a tot so small. It was -not difficult to see where she inherited the first. -But how could so tiny a thing have such a great -mother-heart? She loved everything little—everything -</span><em class="italics">just born</em><span> on the place. The fact that -anything in hair, hide or feathers had arrived was -a cause of jollification. "O do let me see the -dear little things!" would be her cry. And she -generally saw them if Uncle Jack were around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day they missed her from the house and -Uncle Jack quickly tracked her to the cow barn. -It had occurred to him that the day before he had -shown her the Short-Horn's latest edition, a big, -double-jointed, ugly, hungry male calf, who slept -all day in a bedded stall, a young Hercules in -repose, and only waked up long enough to wrinkle -his huge nose and sleep again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There Uncle Jack found her. She had climbed -over the high stall-gate to pet and coddle the great -calf. She had placed her own beautiful string of -beads around his tawny neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come out of there," laughed Uncle Jack. -"What do you see pretty about that great ugly -calf?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Uncle Jack," and she sighed affectedly, "I -am truly sorry for him. He is not pretty, to be -sure—and so I have given him my beads. And -he doesn't seem to be very bright, nor at all well -mannered, poor dear—but—but," she added -reflectively—"he has a lovely curly head and he -seems to be such a healthy child!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On another occasion they missed her. It was -nearly night. Everybody started out in alarm to -hunt for her. Aunt Lucretia was the first to find -her, coming from the brood-sow's lot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where in the world have you been, child?" -she asked as she picked her up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Playing with the little yesterday-pigs," said -Little Sister. "And Aunt Lucretia, I ought to -have come home sooner, I know, but I kissed one -of the cunningest of the little pigs good night, -and all the others looked so hurt, and squealed -so because I didn't kiss them too, I just had to -catch and kiss every one before they would go to -sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Inheritance had played a tremendous part in -Little Sister. Most children crow and lisp and -talk in divers languages before they learn to talk -English; while some never learn at all. But not -so with her. The first long word she attempted -was perfectly pronounced. The first sentence she -put together was grammatically correct. The -correctness of her language for one so small made -it sound so quaint that Uncle Jack had her always -talking. Her earnestness and intensity only added -to her originality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pete was a little darky on the farm whose chief -business was to entertain Little Sister when everything -else failed. His repertoire consisted of all -the funny tricks of a monkey. But his two-star -performances were racking like Deacon Jones' -old clay-bank pacer and playing 'possum. Little -Sister never tired of having Pete do these two -things. They were very comical. Everybody -knew Deacon Jones, with his angular, sedate, -solemn way of riding, and the double-shuffling, -twisting, cork-screw gait of the old pacer. The -ludicrous motions of the pacer had struck Pete -early in life, and he had soon learned to get down -on all-fours and make Deacon Jones's horse -ashamed of himself. The imitation was so -perfect that Ned and Uncle Jack used to call in their -friends to see the show, which consisted of Pete's -doing the racking act, while Little Sister, astraddle -of his back, with one hand in his shirt collar, and -the other wielding a hickory switch, played the -Deacon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One evening, before company, Pete had paced -around so many times that he was leg-weary. -Little Sister, astride his back, whacked him in the -flanks vigorously and exclaimed: "Come, pace -along there, damn you, or I'll put a head on you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The company nearly fell out of their chairs, -while Thesis blushed and Ned stammered an -apology. Then he remembered that only a few days -before he had heard his grandsire, the swearing -old Indian Fighter, make the same remark to -Pete for being slow about bringing his shaving -water; and he knew that if Little Sister was -proud of anyone, it was of her great grandsire, -who fought valiantly with "Stonewall" in the -Valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ned and Thesis gave the old gentleman a talk, -and begged him to be careful of his oaths in the -presence of Little Sister: but when he had heard -it, he laughed more than he had laughed for a -year, and straightway proceeded to buy her a doll -that cost a gold eagle, and was as large, and nearly -as beautiful, as Little Sister herself.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The spring that Little Sister was four years old, -the General, as was his custom every morning -before breakfast, went out to the barn and paddock -to see the brood mares and colts. A stately brown -mare, ankle-deep in blue grass, stood in the -paddock nearest the house, under a great maple tree, -its falling branches almost concealing her. She -turned every now and then in a nervous, unhappy -way, and, going up to the brown, new-born weakling -of a colt lying in the blue grass, and which -seemed unable to rise, she lowered her shapely -head till her nozzle caressed it and then she -whinnied softly. Something was very badly wrong -and she knew it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old General had been looking on for quite -a while, frowning. When the General was sorry -for anything he expressed his sympathy by a -nervous strutting and swearing. When he was -angry or fighting—as his battles in Virginia -proved—he was as silent as a stone wall, and as -staunch. </span><em class="italics">Then</em><span> he never swore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The damned little thing's deformed, Jim," -he said to the negro stable boy who was standing -near. "Poor old Betty," and he rubbed his -favorite saddle mare's nose, "she is distressed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was the sound of fox hunters coming up -the pike. The hounds passed first, in a trot, -nosing. Then the two hunters rode up to the rock -fence where the General stood. One of them rode -a docked hunter with ungainly long head and -sloping rump and shoulders. Both horse and rider -were unmistakably English; the man was -middle-aged, portly, and handsome. The other rider -was a young man riding a Tennessee saddle horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, General," said the -Englishman, saluting, "can't you join us to-day? -Thought we'd exercise the pack a bit. The -blooming old chap was out last night—over in -the hills after a negro's chickens—and we'll take -up his trail and have a little chase. Fawncy -striking him in that stretch of Stone's River -bottom—aw—but we'll have a chase!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—no—Goff," said the old General, impatiently, -"I'm pestered to death with this little -colt. I don't know what to do with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hunter glanced over into the paddock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O that old ambling saddle mare of yours! -Aw—you know what we did with them in -England—two centuries ago—anything with that -Andalusian jennet blood in it—that old pacing -gait—killed 'em—aw! exterminated 'em, sir! -Always told you so. They're fit for nothing but -for old women to ride to church on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The younger man broke out into a boisterous -laugh. His face was round and weak, his mouth -wide, his eyes insincere, and his laugh was affected -and betook of his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Colonel's right, Grandpa. Tell Jim to -kill it an' come on with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old General glanced at him quickly. -"Braxton Bragg Rutherford, my son, when you -enter West Point you will find it a rule there that -very young officers do not try to impress their -views on their superiors until asked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Colonel Goff, suh," he said, turning to the -Englishman, "that old mare has carried me for -fifteen years and never stumped her toe. Her -dam carried me through the Valley campaign with -Stonewall Jackson. She helped us chase Banks -and Fremont out of God's country. She saved -my life once because she could outfoot Yankee -cavalry. You were with me and know it. I -owe the whole family a debt I can never repay, -and suh, I'll be damned if I don't hate to kill her -colt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff looked over the fence at the colt -lying in the grass. Then he said to the negro, -aside: "Pull out its legs, my man—there—that -will do. Hold them up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The legs were knuckled over at the ankles, -deformed evidently. When it tried to stand it came -down limply in a heap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff turned and, beckoning to the -negro, whispered: "Jim, take it into the stall there -and destroy it without letting the General know." Then -he added in a louder tone, "Come, General, -we'll wait till you get your cup of coffee and join us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the General shook his head. Rough he was -and used to war and death, yet this was old -Betty's colt. Goff, knowing his stubbornness, saluted, -and rode on after the hounds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man stood thinking. He examined -the deformed limbs again. Very sternly he looked -the colt over. Very sternly he reached his -conclusion, and once reached it was irrevocable. -Jim, knowing, put in apologetically:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Giner'l, hit'll never walk, we'll hafter kill it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to see it done, Jim. I'll go in. -Po' ole Betty—that she should be played off on -like that!" He stroked the mare's neck with a -kindly pat, and went in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Breakfast was ready for him. He sat down, -abstracted, worried. Uncle Jack, his grandson, -eighteen, slender, and slightly lame, and who -didn't love to talk of the war, nor the thought of -going to West Point, and who wanted always to -study about trees and a better way of farming, -sat next to Little Sister. The General told him of -his misfortune. "It is a great disappointment to -me, suh, old Betty, my favorite saddle mare—I've -ridden her for fifteen years—the best mare -in Tennessee, by gad, suh, the very best!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's weak, puny and no-count, Jack," he went -on as he tested his coffee—"deformed or something -in its front, and knuckles over, can't stand -up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's too bad," said Uncle Jack; "I'll go -out after breakfast and see what I can do for it, -Grandfather."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No use," said the General, gruffly. "It'll -be merciful to destroy it. I've told Jim, too; it'll -be better off dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little Sister had not seemed to listen, but she -had heard. This last remark of her grandsire -stopped a spoonful of oatmeal half way to her -mouth. The next instant, unobserved, she had -slipped from her chair and gone to the barn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you, Jack, I think this breeding business -is a poor lottery," went on the old General after -a while. "To think of old Betty, the gamest, -speediest, best mare I ever owned—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were protesting screams from the barn. -They were instantly recognized as Little Sister's. -Uncle Jack glanced at her empty place, paled, -kicked over two chairs and a setter dog which -blocked the door, and rushed to the barn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A tragedy was on there. A negro stood in -old Betty's stall with an ax in his hand. On some -straw in a far corner lay a sorry-looking colt. -But it was not alone, for Little Sister stood over -it, shaking her tiny fist at the black executioner, -and screaming with grief and anger:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shan't kill this baby colt—you shan't—don't -you come in here—don't! How dare you, Jim?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The flash of her keen blue eyes had awed the -negro in the doorway. He had stopped, -hesitating, in confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go away, Jim," said Uncle Jack firmly. -"Come, Little Sister, let us go back to grandpa." But -for once in her life Uncle Jack had no influence -over her. She was indignant, grieved. She -fairly blazed through her tears and sobs: she would -never speak to grandpa again as long as she lived! -As for Jim, she would kill him as soon as she -got big enough! She wouldn't even speak to -Uncle Jack unless he promised her that the baby -colt should not be killed!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor little colt," she said as she put her arms -around its neck and her tears fell over its big, soft -eyes, "God sent you last night and they want to -kill you to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Uncle Jack brushed away a tear himself and, -stooping, picked up the colt's feet, one at a time, -examining the little filly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little Sister watched him intently: to her mind -Uncle Jack knew everything. The tears were -still in her eyes when Uncle Jack looked up -quickly and said in his jolliest way: "Hello, -Little Sister, this filly is all right! Deformed be -hanged! She's sound as a hound's tooth, just -weak in her tendons and we can soon fix them. -Give her a little time for strength. No, they'll -not kill her, little one—" and he caught the little -girl up, giving her a hug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tears gave way to a crackling little laugh. -Little Sister was dancing in the straw for joy! -What fun it was to help Uncle Jack fix her up! -She brought him the cotton batting herself and -gravely watched him as he made stays for the -weak tendons and bent ankles. Finally, when he -had the filly fixed and had called Jim, who held -her in his arms to the mother's flank until she had -had a good breakfast, the little girl could not keep -still. In a burst Of generosity she begged Jim's -pardon and said she intended to give him a pair -of grandpa's boots that very day. In return for -this Jim promptly named the filly "Little Sister."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But having once said that the colt was -"no-count," the old General refused to notice it. -"Po' little thing," said he, a month after it was -able to pace around without help from its stays, -"po' little thing! What a pity they didn't kill it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Uncle Jack and Little Sister, with the help -of old Uncle Wash, nursed it, petted it and helped -old Betty to raise it. And the next spring their -reward came in a nervous, high-strung but delicate -looking little slip that was indeed a beauty. The -General would surely relent now! But those who -thought so did not know the old man. He merely -glanced at the weanling and remarked again: -"The damned little weakling! That old Betty -should ever have played off on me like that!" He -turned indifferently away. Whereupon both -the filly and the little girl turned up their noses -behind his back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fall that the filly was three years old the -big county fair came off, with pacing stakes for -the best three-year-old. The purse was a -thousand dollars, but greater still was the glory!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old General had entered a big colt named -Princewood for the stakes. This colt had been -carefully trained for two seasons and had already -cost his owner more than he was worth. "But -it's the reputation I am after, suh," the General -said to the driver, "the honor of the thing. -Our farm has already taken it twice, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Uncle Jack was something of a whip -himself. He could not ride because of a lame knee, -so he became an expert in driving. The old -General had failed to notice how all the fall he had -been giving Betty's filly special attention with a -hot brush now and then. Wrapped up as he was -in Princewood's wonderful speed, he had not -noticed that Uncle Jack had frequently called for his -light road wagon, and that he and Little Sister, -now six years old, had taken delightful spins down -the shady places in the cool byways, where the -footing was good and there was no gravel or stones, -and nobody could see them when they asked the -high-strung little filly "to step some," as Little -Sister expressed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then at supper one night, when Colonel Goff -had dropped in as he often did, the old General -began to brag about Princewood's wonderful speed -and of the way in which his favorite grandson, -Braxton Bragg, could drive him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Goff," said the General, "that boy is -a wonder! He drove the colt to-day a mile with -one hand in 2:25."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Uncle Jack winked at Little Sister, and she had -to cram her mouth full of peach preserves to keep -from laughing. The General saw and guessed -there was a joke on him somewhere, and being -one of those who loved to joke others, but did not -love to be joked himself, he flushed red and began -to praise Braxton Bragg openly, hoping it would -go home to his other grandson who sat so quietly -at the table winking at Little Sister and with -something evidently up his sleeve....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, suh," said the General after a while, -"Princewood will simply eat up the field, and -Braxton Bragg—ay, there's a boy for you!—he'll -be a great soldier some day—Braxton -Bragg will simply drive the hoofs off the whole -bunch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Eloise looked up. Eloise was fifteen and -lithe, with her red-gold hair just being put up, -and so graceful and beautiful that Little Sister -worshipped her, as did also Uncle Jack and -Braxton Bragg, and Colonel Goff for that matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise had caught the wink that Uncle Jack -gave, and understood it in an instant. For Eloise -knew things, especially about horses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you really think Braxton Bragg and -Princewood will eat up the field," she said ever -so sweetly and respectfully to the old General. -"My, I'd like ever so much to take the field end -of that," she added indifferently, but winking at -Uncle Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear," said the old General, "I don't -gamble with sweet school girls; but if Princewood -fails to make good, I'll just give you that fine -Whiteman saddle you've been wanting all the -time——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't play a one-sided bet like that; it -isn't fair," said Eloise. "I'd like to be as -generous as you are, sir, and put up a forfeit. But -dear me," and she sighed like the exiled queen in -the fairy tale, "I'm dowerless and own nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good," said Colonel Goff. "Brave girl! now -that lets </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> in. General, just let me take the bet -off your hands. Now then, Eloise, I'll take you -dowerless—for you are a dower all unto -yourself," he said, bowing grandly, "and I'll bet -you—mark me now—I'll bet you that new English -saddle mare I've just imported, against your own -sweet self, that my friend the General's Princewood -will win that race!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a go," cried Eloise, rising gracefully and -taking his hand, "red-leather-bargain-done-for-ever," -she added laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The General looked pleased—he showed it in -his bland smile and the vigorous nodding of his -head. He whispered to Goff: "By gad, Goff, -but all joking aside—she'll make you the finest -wife alive!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise heard and looked over at Jack with a -smile, but Jack's head was down on his breast and -there was no smile on his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never remotely—in any way—in his dreams—(and -being a poet, he dreamed often) had he -thought of Eloise belonging to anyone but -him!...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It looked as if all the county was there on the -fine fall day of the race. It was one of those -sweet old country fairs where the yeomanry of -the hills and the lassies from the valleys make -holiday, and the heifers with polished horns share -the glory with the fillies, bedecked with ribbons, -and stepping proudly in air to music.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The field was a large one; for the purse was -rich and the honor even richer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Princewood's a prime favorite, suh," -chuckled the old General as he walked around, -holding by the hand a little girl who went -everywhere with him, and who wondered whether, -after all, Uncle Jack really knew. And so -hearing so much that was braggart of Princewood, she -all but lost faith: as is the way of us all if -we do not touch, now and then, the shrine of our -Truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise was there, now flirting with the country -beaux, and now riding Colonel Goff's saddle mare -in the rings for blue ribbons. By two o'clock she -had the mare's head-stall full of them, and one big -one adorned her own riding whip as "the best -lady rider." Seeing her beauty and grace, Colonel -Goff murmured to himself:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By gad, but I'll make her Lady Carfax some day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bell had already rung twice for the race and -all the owners and horses were supposed to be -preparing to score down, when a new entry drove -in. He sat in a spider-framed four-wheeled -gentleman's road cart instead of in a sulky, which -would make him at least four seconds slow in a -race like that. And he wore a cutaway business -suit and a soft felt hat, and not a gaudy jockey -cap and silk coat as did Braxton Bragg, who drove -Princewood and was bragging about what he was -going to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The newcomer nodded familiarly to the starting -judge and paced his nervous looking little filly up -the stretch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is that coming into this race in that -kind of a thing?" asked the old General of a -farmer standing near, for his eyesight was failing -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, General, don't you know yo' own grandson? -That's young Jack Ballington," said the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hell you say!" shouted the excited old -man. "Why dammit, has Jack gone crazy? He -always was a fool!" And he clattered over a -bench with his wooden leg and hobbled up the -stretch to head off the pair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By gad, suh, Jack," he shouted, "are you -going to drive in this race?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack nodded and smiled, while he soothed the -nervous little filly with gentle words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what's that little rakish looking thing -you've got there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's Little Sister, Grandfather," he said, -good-naturedly. "I'm really just driving her to -please our little girl and see how she'll act in company."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old General was amazed, indignant, outraged. -"Why, you're the daddy of all damned -fools that ever lived!" he blurted. "They'll -lose you both in this race! Get off the track, -Jack, for God's sake, and don't disgrace old Betty -this way—why, that old mare—I've ridden her -for fifteen years! Why, I rode her dam clear -through the war. She helped chase Banks and -Fremont out of the valley—why that little no-count -thing—Jack, she'll drop dead if you extend her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack smiled. "It's just for a little fun, Grandfather, -and to please the little girl; for it's her -pet, you know. I'll just trail them and if she's -too soft I'll pull out the second heat. But she's -better than you think," he added indifferently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old General expostulated, threatened; but -Jack laughed good-naturedly and drove off. Then -the old General repented. It was comically -pathetic to hear him call out: "Jack, Jack, don't -tell anybody it's old Betty's colt, will you? -Promise me, boy. Why, I rode her for fifteen years. -I rode her dam all through the valley of Virginia -with Stonewall Jackson." But Uncle Jack drove -on, chuckling to himself: "I'll bet ten to one he'll -be telling it before I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the little filly got into company she was -positively gay. She forgot all about herself, and -like great people the world over she lost her -nervous ways when the great effort was on, and -went away at the go of the starter with a rush that -almost took Uncle Jack's breath from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pulled her quickly down. "Ho—ho, Little -Sister—if you do that again you'll give us -all dead away, and that will spoil the fun." He -glanced quickly around to see if anyone saw him. -But the crowd were all busy watching Princewood. -So Uncle Jack trailed behind, the very -last of the bunch, but with the little filly fighting -indignantly for her head all the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nobody seemed to see them at all, that is, -nobody but a little girl, who clung nervously to the -old General's middle finger, and wondered, with -her child's faith fiercely battered, if her Uncle -Jack, her Uncle Jack who knew it all and -could do anything, if he, the mighty, was really -going to tumble from his lofty throne in her -mind?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she got behind the General's big Prince -Albert coat tail, and wiped away two nervous little -tears. Princewood had paced in way ahead. -She stuck her fingers in her ears, so that she could -not hear the shouts, and her little nervous lips -closed tight with indignant shame. When she -took them out the shouting was over, but she -heard the old General say, "Wasn't it a -walkover? That fool grandson of mine has always -made me tired. I don't believe the little thing -can go round again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This cut into the soul of the little girl. She -pretended to go after a glass of the big red -lemonade that they sold under a near-by tree; but really -she went to cry in the dark hall under the grand -stand and to wipe her tears on the frills of the -pretty little petticoat Mother Thesis had made for -her just to wear to the fair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was one who knew, however, because she -really had horse sense. She was riding a beautiful -English saddle mare across the infield, and she -looked like a young Diana in her dark blue riding -suit, and she sat her horse like the Centaur's wife. -As she rode across the grassy infield, Braxton -Bragg came up, and catching her mare by the bit, -stopped her short. His little round, weak face -was focused into a smile. Eloise flushed, vexed -that he should seize a moving mare by the bit, for -it is against all good horsemanship to do it; just as -one pilot would resent another interfering with -his wheel. She looked down on him without a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Eloise," he said as one who seeks a -compliment, "how do you like the way I did it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Long ago Eloise had said of Braxton Bragg: -"Answer a fool according to his folly." Therefore -she smiled dryly now and said, "Beautifully. -How entirely and completely you do fill that sulky -seat, Braggy." Braxton Bragg, not knowing -what satire was, took this for a compliment, and -smiled again. Then, encouraged, he whispered -low to her: "You've never given me a chance to -show you just how much I could do for love of -you, Eloise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," she answered, ever so sweetly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he sighed affectedly, trying to look -love-lorn, cocking his head with affected sadness -and succeeding only in looking ridiculous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," she said sweetly again. If he had had -sense he would have seen the sweetness was for -ends of her own. "Oh, how sweet of you and -how cruel of me, Braggy." Her tone was very -clear. If he had only looked down the past he -might have remembered that whenever she had -called him Braggy she had been planning to do -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sighed again, which shut his mouth the -second time. Eloise, demurely, but inwardly -nearly bursting, did likewise. "Well?" he -asked, expectantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Eloise encouragingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean—can't—I now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's never a better time than the present, -Braggy, you remember the school books say." Then -she reached down and, pretending earnestness, -said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've got a walk-over, it's plain. It's yours -for the asking, Braggy. And so—well—it's -big odds I'm giving you, Braggy," and she laughed -like a wood thrush, "but if you win that race -I'll be yours alone henceforth and forever, -Braggy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paled, taking her hand, which fell -sidewise down past her saddletree, in his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh Eloise—dearest,"—he started bookishly, -but ended in his own way, which was mentally -unlearned: "Gee—but I'll win or bust!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if you don't," began Eloise, ever so -indifferently. "Of course you will," she smiled; -"but if you don't, Braggy, now dear, why you'll -just send me that set of seal-skins for that fashionable -hennery I'm going to at Washington?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good! Good!" he cried boisterously. -"What odds you give me! You against a hundred -dollar seal-skin! Oh, my, let me get busy!" And -he rushed off, smirking back sillily at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A saddle mare, a saddle, and a set of -sealskins all in one day. Well, that's going some," -Eloise chuckled as she rode up to the fence where -Uncle Jack stood. Reaching down from her -saddle, she tapped him on the shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked up into her laughing eyes, and -flushed, for he had always loved her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, Jack, you are a dandy! You did it -beautifully! O, the stride of that rush before -you called her down! Say, how do you like my -mare? Isn't she a beauty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you say so," he said slowly, testing her, -"I'll lay up the next heat; let </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> win." He had -remembered Goff's bet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She flushed. Then she rapped him over the -shoulder lightly with her whip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Jack, that would be horrible! Do you -think I'd have made the bet if I hadn't believed -in you, loved you, brother mine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack flushed. "Do you, Eloise—do you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise laughed. "Like a sister. Aunt Lucretia -says we've got to marry each other, so what's -the use of my kicking? But listen—now—say, -Jack—you've played right into my hand. -I'll need that Whiteman saddle for this beautiful -thing. So hold up a while till I ride over and -close that bet with the General. Now is my time! -He's crazy about that great lobster of his and -I could win The Home Stretch on this bet if I -had anything to put up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wheeled her horse, threw a kiss down at -Jack, and galloped off to find the General.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Little Sister got back from her cry -the General was gone. He was over at the table -talking to Uncle Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Jack," said he, "don't disgrace old -Betty any more. Why, I rode her fifteen years. -I rode her—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Uncle Jack had always been so quiet that it was -a distinct surprise to the old General when he -showed an unsuspected grit and gameness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang her old dam, Grandfather, and your -cursed old war in Virginia! Drop dead, will she? -Well, sir, you are likely to see something drop -yourself before this heat is over." And he turned -on his heels and walked off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old General looked at him astounded, and -with positive admiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By gad," he said to himself, "he's either -crazy or got more sense than us all. By gad, to -think of him getting mad and having grit like -that! He may make a soldier yet," and he -chuckled with pride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Uncle Jack meant business. He changed -his cart for a sulky. Again they got the word. -Princewood, having the pole and all advantage, -flashed ahead in his big lumbering pace, Little -Sister in the very rear, struggling for her head. -Slowly, gradually, Uncle Jack let her have it. -Steadily, like moving machinery set in grooves -of steel, she came up on them, relentlessly, -mercilessly cutting them down, one after another. At -the half there was nothing but Princewood ahead -and no one even saw her yet, for the shout was: -"Princewood! Princewood!" This heat would -make the race his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Princewood's got 'em, General!" yelled a -countryman, his mouth so wide open from excitement -that tobacco juice ran down his chin whiskers -and into his shirt collar. "Princewood's got -'em! There's nothin' that kin head 'im!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's got 'em!" yelled the partisans of the -old General, packed solidly around him and -cackling with half crazy joy. "Now jes watch -sum'thin' drop."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But a girl sitting on her horse and looking over -the crowd saw it differently. A daring, knowing, -triumphant smile lingered around her mouth. -And not in heaven, nor in the star-lighted lake -below, ever shone two stars rippling into little -wavelets of glint and glory like those in the eyes -of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The General, seeing her, shouted: "Yes, watch -it drop! No saddle for you, young lady!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down went her keen, fun-loving eyes to those -of the old soldier. "It's dropped already, -General—see! I own that saddle now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something had happened. The little filly felt -the reins relax and a kindly chirrup come from -her driver. In a twinkling, in the whir of a -spinning wheel, she was up with the big fellow, -half frightened at her own speed, half doubting -that it was really she who did it, half sobbing -with the keen thrill of it, like a great singer who -for the first time hears her own voice filling a -great hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Princewood! Princewood!</em><span>" shouted the -crowd around their idol, the General, "</span><em class="italics">Princewood's -broke the record!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old General rose in happy anticipation: -"Yes, boys, it looks like the record is busted by—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here his jaw dropped as if paralyzed; for his -trained eye took in the situation and the word -died in his mouth. What was that little bay -thing that had so gamely collared his big horse? -Who is that quiet-looking fellow in the soft hat -handling the reins like a veteran and leading the -march like Stonewall's Foot-Cavalry in the Valley? -His grandson, Jack, was in a cart; this man sat -in a sulky. And Jack was driving a little -limp-waisted, hollow-flanked—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who the devil—" he began, when someone -clinging to his middle finger looked up, great -smiles chasing tears down her cheeks and so excited -she could scarcely breathe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it's Little Sister, Grandpa! Now isn't -she just too sweet for anything?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next instant the little filly laughed in the -big pacer's face, who had quit in a tangled break, -as much as to say: "</span><em class="italics">You big braggart duffer, have -you quit already?</em><span>" and then, like a homing -pigeon loosed for the first time, she sailed away -from the field.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Princewood—Princewood has broke the -record—" shouted the farmer who hadn't caught -on and was shouting for Princewood, but was -looking at the champion pumpkin in the window -of the Agricultural Hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the old General lost his head and -what little religion he had left. For he jumped -on a bench, his wooden leg rattling as he danced -up and down, like a flock of goats in a barn loft, -and this is what the town crier in the courthouse -window, a mile away, heard him yelling:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Damn Princewood! Damn the record! -It's Little Sister—Little Sister—my own mare—old -Betty's filly. I rode her fifteen years! I -rode her dam—</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh—" sang out mockingly a beautiful girl, -sitting her horse beside him, with a laugh that -sounded like a wood thrush's. "But I've won a -saddle and a seal-skin cloak and the sweetest -mare in the world! Say, Braggy," for Braxton -Bragg just then drove in, the last of the whole -procession—"that engagement is all off, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Uncle Jack, who had stopped and got out -of the sulky, came up, his face aglow. And she, -her eyes still fired to starry beauty, leaned from -the saddle and kissed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You darling Jack, how can I ever get even -for this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said he'd be telling about it first," said -Uncle Jack, wagging his head at the crowd, where -the old General stood telling them that it was </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> -who had bred the great little filly and that it was -</span><em class="italics">his old mare</em><span> who was the dam of her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the little old no-count thing did play off -on you sure enough, didn't she, Grandpa?" came -from the tear-eyed tot beside him, so naively in -earnest and telling such a plain unvarnished truth -that even the old General's partisans had to wink -and nudge each other as they walked off. The -old General laughed as he picked her up and said: -"And here's the little girl that saved her, -gentlemen, the smartest girl in Tennessee; and she's got -more horse sense than her old granddaddy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was one more heat, of course; but it was -only a procession, and those behind—and that -meant the field—cannot swear to this day which -way Little Sister went....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-flame-in-the-wood"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">"A TWILIGHT PIECE"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>... "And all that I was born to be</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>and do, a twilight piece."</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>—</span><em class="italics">Robert Browning</em><span>.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE FLAME IN THE WOOD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Home again and Tennessee in April! When -the train swept over the Highland Rim, the woods, -not yet in full leaf, seemed afire with the clustering -blooms of the pink azaleas. On both sides, in -little sudden and short valleys, and farther off on -dwarf-oak hillsides, they blazed. Far beyond -their faint, mist-like flush mingled with the sky -line in the distant openings, and seemed an arc -of soft sunset clouds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cream-white dogwoods rose up in open spaces -against the blurred, pink backgrounds, clustering -like evening stars in rose cloud-banks. Anon they -grew in separate groups, down in little dells, and -each of these tiny bowls was full of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their odor, soft and fragrant, swept through -the train, dew-damp and like old memories in -sweetness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This seems to me to be the main thought about -all wild flowers, that they alone are God's idea of -beauty and not those that bloom in gardens and -hot houses through the skill of man. If, from -any cause, such as the gas from a comet's tail, -men should vanish in a night, none of these last -would live to bloom again. Like their makers -they would pass from the earth. But like Nature's -Maker the wild sweet things of the wood and -meadows and mountains would bloom again, -although man were not, mirroring God's idea of -beauty even to the desert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If it is Nature's great desire that that which is -best shall live, the wild flowers have Nature's -underwriting of approval. Ancient Linnæus said -of one unfolding: "I saw God in his glory passing -near me and bowed my head in worship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through all the ages those who see, whether -poet or planter, think the same great thoughts. -Tennyson said of the flower plucked from the -crannied wall, that if he could know what it was -he should know what God and man were. They -bring a larger thought even than that, for they -prove that God </span><em class="italics">is Beauty</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even as I was thinking this the train rushed -through what had once been a wood, but was now -a burnt and scarred spot, bare of life. The -azaleas in their beauty, were the flame in the woods -which Nature had kindled: but this desolate spot -was the flame which had come from the hand of -man...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the train stopped for water at the little -station I got out and gathered a great bunch of -flowers for Eloise....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then as we dropped down into the Middle -Basin, filled with the blue grass in its spring glory, -whole acres of hepaticas twinkled up at us like -fallen fireflies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last I was home again, and home with a -new mission, new ideas. For four years I had -studied trees and flowers in a German university. -I had prepared myself to be a forester. Now I -was looking out of the car window at the wantonness -that had turned hillsides into gullies and rich -loam into beds of clay. The little streams that I -had remembered running from a familiar wood, -now crawled, winding amid sand dunes bare of -trees. The folly of it hurt me. I saw that here -was work for me to do.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-home-stretch"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE HOME-STRETCH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>How familiar were the hills around the little -Hermitage Station! And how grateful was the -sweet clear air of its dew-bathed meadows after -the noise and smoke of the train!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt Lucretia imprinted two chilly kisses -from tight-shut lips on each of my cheeks. She -was a large, strong, stout woman, with a fine, -high nose and full mouth, which, when it would, -could settle quickly into close-shut lips of -determination. Her eyes were hazel and keen: kindly -when quiet; but quick to flash and far-seeing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without a word and very deliberately she looked -me over through her gold nose glasses. I smiled -as I remembered how often I had seen her pass -on a horse she was purchasing in the same way. -Down the six feet of my height her keen eyes -went, dwelling, I imagine, a bit longer on my legs -where the old lameness had been in my knee since -my boyhood sickness from typhoid fever. Again -I smiled, for in that same way I had seen her -linger over the doubtful tendon of a horse. But -the noted German surgeon, Hoffman, had, in my -first year at Berlin, skillfully removed the floating -cartilage, and I saw my Aunt Lucretia's face light -up, satisfied with the straight limb, and my weight -upon it. Then she looked lengthwise across my -shoulders, and a surprised pleasure shone in her -eyes. I had grown from a frail boy into an -athlete.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We had not said a word. I stood smiling at -her, and she, as was her custom, would not speak -until her survey was done. Very deliberately she -looked me over. I had seen her examine Young -Hickory, lineal descendant of Andrew Jackson's -famous Truxton in the same way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was eager to say something and get to Eloise. -I had caught a glimpse of her face at the surrey's -door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you would grow into that," Aunt -Lucretia remarked, as she readjusted her glasses. -Then, as if to impress on me her long expressed -thought, she added, "You have grown beautifully -up to your pedigree, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I laughed. "Well, if you have passed on me, -here goes," I said boisterously, as I seized her -around the neck and gave her a kiss, which -knocked off her glasses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut—tut, Jack, that will do! Kissing is -silly and thoroughly unsanity. There is Eloise -waiting for you—but no kissing—no hugging -her—none of it," she added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw the straight, fine figure draw back half -haughtily into the carriage, and a half-protesting -look flash for an instant over the pretty face, -profiled through the open space. She threw back -her head in the old tribute-demanding way, and -her half-closed lids veiled her eyes under great -curving, brown-red brows. I caught a gleam of -the old daring fun in them, as she smiled and held -out both her hands, taking mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Awfully glad to see you, Jack—welcome home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My heart betrayed itself in the quick glance I -gave her. She had developed so wonderfully in -those four years. And how I had longed to see -her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat smiling kindly into my eyes; I stood -looking sillily into hers, holding both of her hands -in mine, forgetful of Aunt Lucretia, and with no -word that I could say to Eloise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise," I began haltingly at last, "is it—have -you—is it really you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I bent down to kiss her, but she fenced away -and drew back smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I dropped her hand, hurt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," and her tone tried to compensate me, -"behave now—everybody is looking." Then -she added louder, "Have you really grown into -this handsome chap—and no lameness any more?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut—tut," broke in Aunt Lucretia, half -irritated, "you two make me tired. Of course he -has—you have both grown wonderfully up to -your pedigree—I always said so—nothing -strange in that. And as you are both grown -now," she added patronizingly and with the -old return of authority, "I intend to marry -you to each other before Christmas—see if I -don't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I blushed and Eloise smiled—a trace of the -old fun-loving tease breaking across the corners -of her mouth. Her beautiful clear blue-hazel eyes -smiled up into mine, full of the old fun and daring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I bent over her. "Eloise, aren't you really -going to kiss me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is unsanitary, Jack,—and—" she glanced -at Aunt Lucretia—"bad form and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned, hurt, and shook hands with old -Thomas, the driver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mighty glad to see you back home, Marse -Jack, mighty glad!" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked closely at his horses, with that -pretended admiration that I knew would please him, -in order to hide my chagrin. There was embarrassment -in it too, for I knew I was under inspection -from the eyes of Eloise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I declare, Marse Jack," he went on, "dis -sho'ly ain't you, is it? I declar to goodness if -you ain't biggern yo' daddy wuz, and yo' gran'pa—the -ole Jineral." He grew easily loquacious. -"When I fust seed you a-comin' out dat cyar dore, -I didn't know you, and yit I sed to myself, </span><em class="italics">sholy -I've seed dat face—hit 'pears mighty complicated -to me somehow</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A smothered laugh from Eloise. "That is -what I've been trying to say, Thomas, but couldn't, -to save me, think of the right word. Thank you -so much—'</span><em class="italics">complicated,</em><span>' Jack—that's too -good!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I showed plainly that I did not like this from -Eloise. Ridicule we may bear, but not from our -beloved. And I had loved Eloise always, but -never so much as now. Then she suddenly broke -into a smile, and said in her sweet sisterly way of -old: "Forgive me, Jack—I haven't lost my old -teasing way with you, have I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want you to," I said quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what do you think of her?" broke in -Aunt Lucretia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't tell you how beautiful I think she is, -Aunt Lucretia," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise laughed, and looked dreamily up. How -quickly her eyes had changed from daring to -dreams. In her low, even laugh lay four years -of fashionable Washington schooling. In the -soft tones of her voice were a thousand music -lessons. In the well-gowned girl before me was -training, the spirit of gentlefolk, centuries of -correct pedigrees. She had always been strong, and -with a form as lithe as a young frost-pinched -hickory. How she could ride a horse and handle -a gun! Her hair had been yellowish and flossy, -now it was like the distant flush of a red-top -meadow, mower-ripe. I had left her an over-long -school girl, thin and callow, daring, caring -for nothing so much as running a risk of her neck -and limbs in trees, and bare-back gallops on any -half-broken colt on the farm. But now—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia, watching me, guessed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, she'll pass, won't she?" she said -rather braggartly for her, I thought. "You'll -believe what I kept writing you now, eh? Though -you never referred to it once, not once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Aunt Lucretia," began Eloise protestingly. -Even her voice had changed. It was not -the imperative, rollicking, colt-breaking voice of -the school girl I had known four years ago. It -was now like a fall of soft, freestone water over -a moss-lined rock bed, purling into a deep pool -below, sand-bordered and waveless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please don't tease him," she began again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia laughed triumphantly: "Oh, -never mind. I want to rub it in on Jack. He needs -it curried into him. He hasn't written me a line -to show that he intended to carry out my wishes -until I grew positively uneasy, for fear he'd marry -one of those Hessians, whose ancestors Washington -crossed the Delaware to whip that night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(Hadn't written, I thought. But no one shall -ever know what I had dreamed and hoped in those -four years.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was looking into Eloise's eyes; she flushed, -for I saw she knew my thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shan't be hard on Jack," she said, taking -my part as it seemed to save herself. "Jack, -dear," and she took my hand in hers, her eyes for -the first time flashed with sympathy, "we must -do as of old, we must pool interests, when she is -against us we must combine to beat her. And to -prove it I am going to defy her and kiss you, for -you've heard her say that we are betrothed, and -this is always the first thing after a betrothal," -and with the old daring in her eyes she looked up -at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I remember into what a perfect Cupid's bow -her hitherto straight lips curved, and I flushed -crimson as my lips met hers. Aunt Lucretia, -seeing this, said with emphatic shame, "Tut—tut, -unsanitary and silly! Get into the surrey, Jack. -Thomas, drive these two fools home!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In my heart I thanked Aunt Lucretia for that -tirade. I knew Eloise of old. She was always -on the side of the under dog. For that reason -she had kissed me. Still, with all her pretense I -noticed that Aunt Lucretia had arranged that we -should sit together, and had seated herself in front -with Thomas, where she could watch her roan -span trot off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise," I whispered, dropping my hand on -hers, "is it really you? I never dreamed you -would be so beautiful. I have loved you always, -Little Sister. Don't you love me a little?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed at my low voice. Then she suddenly -grew serious, and said in a tone that hurt -me, "Of course I do, Jack, as your adopted sister. -But don't!" she protested, as I tried to kiss -her cheek. "You are acting so queerly; as if we -were really in love!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I drew back, very much hurt. "Eloise!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be silly, Jack, or you'll spoil it all. -Haven't I always been your little sister?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely, Eloise," I said, my heart in my -throat, "after all these years—you don't know -how I've loved you always, and lately yearned for -home and you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave me a startled look. "Jack, we must -stop this. I have something to tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hills swayed as the surrey rushed by. I -saw the old field mistily, the distant trees and the -white lime roads. I was almost reeling in the -fear which her tone had brought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think of them?" asked Aunt -Lucretia proudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked at the handsome pair, stepping like -one, at a good three minutes' gait.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Splendid," I said. "I should guess they -were Young Hickory's, and their dam, Nuthunter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Uncle Thomas could not restrain a laugh. -These horses were his pride. "Ain't los' none -of yo' hoss sense hobnobbin' with them furrin' -folks, Marse Jack. You sho' hit it 'zactly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was afraid," went on Aunt Lucretia, "that -I might not be successful in straightening out the -Nuthunter legs; he hasn't the best of hocks, you -know. But did you ever see anything more -beautiful?" she added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never," I answered, looking steadily into -Eloise's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," laughed Eloise, "I must discipline you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For answer I caught up her hand behind Aunt -Lucretia's back and kissed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry for you, Jack," she said with her -old quietness, "but—but—well, I'll see you -to-night and explain." Then she looked out and -exclaimed, "The Home Stretch, Jack! Isn't it -beautiful? Has it changed any?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-hickories"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE HICKORIES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We drove up to the great mansion built of -home-baked bricks. It sat on a blue grass slope, -and before it lay twenty acres of blue grass lawn, -tree-peopled: oaks, ash, poplars; and elms, red -and white; and a great broad-topped gum. Eloise -and I remembered this last best of all, for in -the fall it early turned into a great, flaming -brushheap of red, crimson streaked with black. -Scattered about on the lawn, filling the gaps, were -single trees of dogwood. In the dusk they shone -like silver nosegays in dark vases.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The evening dank was in the air as we drove -up; that rare odor, which is really no odor, but -only a memory of one; and as we whirled up -the drive there came a whisp of perfume, blue -grass cut before its time, fresh spring hay, for -a sick brood mare, in the meadow beyond.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The night sounds made me homesick, even -though I was at home; a whippoorwill, a -whinnying mare, the lowing of a lonesome calf in the -barn. Far off, in the faint purple twilight, stood -the hills; and nearer was the black fringe of trees -which moated Stone's River. Here was home -and April, and my heart was eager for them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was The Home Stretch, the home of my -grandsire, General John Rutherford. His -daughter, my Aunt Lucretia, ran the farm for him, -as she did everything else within ten miles of -her, for my grandsire was old, and had lost a -leg while fighting with Stonewall Jackson in the -Valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise guessed my thoughts. Her voice was -quiet and tender as she said, "You should see -our hickories, Jack!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I jumped from the surrey at the door, and drew -her with me. "Let us look at them first of all," -I said, "because there was our playhouse, there -were our dreams."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled as she pointed to the walks still -lined with sunken ale bottles, their mouths -projecting upward as borders for our flower beds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia had gone into the house. -Thomas had wheeled the surrey and team to the -barn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The land we stood on had once belonged to -Andrew Jackson. Here he had lived before he -had moved to the farm four miles away known -as the Hermitage. Clover Bottom had been the -pride of a great, strong heart. In the field -beyond had stood the pioneer store where Jackson -and Coffee had traded, with Indians. Beyond -that was the far-famed circular field, in the great -bend of Stone's River, and level as a floor, where -Truxton and Plowboy and the unbeaten Maria -had once raced. Still farther beyond Stone's -River circled like a tube of quicksilver through -the green of the wooded hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never before was honesty put to such a test -as when Andrew Jackson gave up this home to -pay an unjust debt. Without complaint he -moved further into the wilderness, and built his -great double log-cabin home. That cabin is now -a shrine!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here stood the giant hickories in a group, the -rugged, stately trees. Why did he plant them -here? Or had the old hero, with that love of -his for the unbending tree for which he was -named, let them stand unscathed, as Nature had -placed them? They stood in a great group, -cathedral-like, one taller and more stately than -his fellows, like a spire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of all the trees the hickory is the conqueror. -Its purpose in life is to withstand. It is a -fighting tree, rough of dress, careless of manner, rude -in its unpolished bark. To be frightened by the -hails of heaven is not for it. The hurricane -cannot quell it. From its youth it has fought the -storm, and when the storm has tired it has still -stood, tattered but glorious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every fall in one great flaming pyre as of a -burning bush wherein there is Divinity, they have -blazed and burned before our wondering eyes. A -warrior tree, and yet, withal, what no warrior -ever was: a giver of gifts, not a wrecker of those -already garnered; not bullets, not shells, not grape -shot dropped on the land; but nuts. Some day, -truly, the real conqueror of the world will conquer -like this tree—overcoming in a hail of kindness -flung from loving hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was these trees," I said, turning to Eloise, -"that sent me to Germany to study forestry; -these trees and Dr. Gottlieb. How is he? I -can hardly wait till morning to run over to his -cabin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise laughed. "Oh! you were always a -poet, Jack. Dr. Gottlieb is the same, and he is -famous now; such books he has written of flowers -and trees!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know they use his text-books in -Germany?" I asked proudly; "and that last work -of his, 'Tree Influence on Precipitation,' was -talked about in all the universities. Look," I -said, pointing to a scarred and gullied hillside -across the road, showing bare even in the twilight, -"there is the great work to be done in our land, -there is the coming field for the young brains of -our country—that, and better farming, and the -watering of our great barren spots in the West. -We've cut down our trees wantonly—our -pioneer sires did so before us,—for the land had -to be cleared or they would have died. But now -if I can only get them to change! You should -see the German and French system. When I -came through France, along their coasts, both on -the Mediterranean and the Channel, were great -forests planted to break the winds and storms. -I was told that a century ago the winds began -to make deserts of their coasts, encroaching mile -after mile into the land. Now, with the trees -planted, it is a garden again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise was listening silently. Then she said, -"Jack, that is all very fine, and it took courage -in you to do it, to go over there. It was not -Aunt Lucretia's idea; hers was a horse-farm for -you; and the General's was West Point and war. -He has never been the same toward you, Jack—I -can see it—since you would not go to West -Point."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He never cared for me as he did for Braxton," -I said. I winced, for I loved my old grandsire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has not written me a line since I have -been gone," I went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Jack," and she took my hand in hers -in the old way, "and I have always teased you -cruelly, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Eloise," I said, "I have always loved you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," she said, "Little Brother,"—those -words I knew of old meant condescension—"I -knew it would not do. I wanted you to love -someone else. You know Aunt Lucretia's silly -conditions." She flushed in the twilight. "I -hoped while you were away," she went on, "if we -didn't write you'd forget me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And instead," I said, bringing her hand to -my lips, "I thought of no one else but you. I -came back loving you, Eloise, more than ever; as -a man's love is greater than a boy's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She grew suddenly stern. "Jack, Jack, haven't -I told you not to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not?" I cried. "Did any real lover ever -have a choice? It's not his part to decide—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, Jack; you know I would not lie to -you, but you must understand how foolish—how -useless—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come to supper, Jack—Eloise." It was -Aunt Lucretia calling. "Here is father and -Colonel Goff," she added as we walked up the -steps. "Father has grown quite deaf, Jack, -since you saw him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff, handsome, alert, and quick even -to bluntness, came forward, and shook my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad to see you back again, Jack—welcome home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My grandfather sat in his great chair, facing -the lawn. His wooden leg rested on the railing. -Great curls of tobacco smoke rose from his -corner of the porch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was the old nervous, staccato clatter of -wood and cane meeting on the floor as he arose -to greet me. I saw the stern, unyielding face give -back no smile of pleasure as he took my hand. -He stood looking at me doubtfully, his mind -evidently weakening with old age. The sadness -of it flashed over me, for his mind had been the -mind of a strong man in his day. My Aunt -Lucretia promptly screamed in his ear, "This is -Jack, Father; he has come home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, ah—ah—Jack, glad to see you, suh; -and who did you say it was, Lucretia?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your grandson, Jack Ballington. He has -been away studying in Germany," she screamed -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aha," said the old man, "aha—of -course—wouldn't go to West Point, though the -President himself gave him the appointment in my -behalf. Aha—Jack—a brooding, dreaming -sort of a feller—always mooning around trees -and writing poetry. Won't fight—not a damn -one of 'em will. And what a chance to fight you -would have now! What a bully scrap we are -going to have! Have you heard, suh," he turned, -and spoke sharply to me, "have you heard that -the Spaniards blew up our battleship the other -month, and that we are going to blow hell out -of 'em? And they've been needing it for -two centuries. Ah! If I were only younger, -wouldn't I be in! Imagine it, Goff," he said, -turning to him, "imagine me fighting under the -old flag again! Didn't think I'd ever live to see -that day when we were charging Banks in the -Valley. Ah, 'twas a family scrap—only a family -fight—like old man Tully and wife—have -to fight a little at home now and then, so they'd -love each other more when they made up. Ah, -suh, I'd give this farm to be your age again, and -a chance to fight under the old flag once more. -Joe Wheeler wrote me the other day that -President McKinley would make me a Brigadier, if -I'd go in. By gad, suh, I sat down, and shed -tears to think I was too old!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was silent awhile; then, "Ha, ha, but I -read in the paper to-day that the Spanish Prime -Minister is out in a statement saying it'll be easy -to whip us, because we're divided North and -South, and that the Southern Confederacy will -arise again! He is right. We have already -arisen. I see in every Southern State ten times -more have volunteered than their quota calls for. -Yes, we'll arise, and will help McKinley whip hell -out of them!" He stamped his wooden leg on -the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Braxton Bragg—ah, he's in it. Do -you know, suh, that he's a Captain in the First -Tennessee, and they are preparing now to go to -the Philippines? Ah, what a chance, what a -chance you had, suh! And what do you say you -did in Germany?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I studied forestry and farming, sir," I said, -flushing hot under his words, "and with it I took -two years' training in the military school at -Berlin, taking instructions up to the rank of -captain in the Emperor's Guards."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hell you did!" he shouted excitedly. -"Did you have sense enough to do that? Those -soldiers are the best drilled soldiers in the world, -Goff. Your damned English to the contrary -notwithstanding," he added, smiling at the -Colonel. "In the Emperor's Guards! Strike a -match, Lucretia, and let me see him." In the -light of the match he stood up I stood above -him six good inches. That and my shoulders -breadth surprised him, for he went on: "You -left here a crippled stripling, mooning all the -time over flowers and such cat-hair, and crying -if anybody cut down a tree. But you'll never -fight, none of you ever have! Sissy is the word -for the whole kit of the world's mooners. Still, -you do surprise me, suh, now and then; I'll be -honest about it; like this studying military in -Germany. Ha—ha—think of it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And beating you and your whole bragging -bunch with Little Sister—have you forgotten -that, sir?" asked Eloise, nervily thrusting her -intense face into his, her eyes flashing, ready as -she always had been to fight my battles for me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My grandsire laughed good-naturedly. He had -always had respect for Eloise in her fighting -moods, as had everybody else on the farm. His -voice was decidedly conciliatory as he said, -"There, dear,—maybe I am too hard on -Jack—ha—ha—guess that was neatly turned, and -we took our medicine like men and soldiers. Eh, -Goff?" He turned to me suddenly. "If you'd -only quit this tree foolishness and fight; but you -won't do it, suh—not a damned one of you ever -did! And your lameness?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a cartilage in my knee, sir; Dr. Hoffman, -the famous surgeon, took it out soon -after I went over. I am not lame now, sir, at -all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad to hear it, suh, glad to hear it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was silent for a moment, looking out into -the dusk. "And you know all about trees—aha—well, -there's only one tree in the world I care -a damn for; there it is, and it is dying. My -mother loved it. She used to nurse me there," -he added tenderly, his voice dropping low.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's that beautiful elm at the dining-room -window, Jack," explained my Aunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The most perfect tree I ever saw," went on -my grandsire, reminiscently. "The others just -grew up any way, but that one stood like the -great feathered eagle plume in the hair of the -Comanche chief, Setting Sun. He was the first -Indian I killed on the plains—in a hand to -hand fight—and that eagle feather in his -hair—I'll never forget it. And that elm was like -it—and—and my mother loved it," he said, his -voice muffled up in huskiness. He blew his nose -vigorously, and went on more cheerily, "Make -yourself at home, suh—do what you please. I -wanted you to be a soldier, suh, like Braxton -Bragg, ah, what a man that boy has developed -into at West Point! But it isn't born in -you—can't make a fighter out of a dreamer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down, and Aunt Lucretia, taking my -hand, led me in. "Goff," I heard him say, "that -fight at Winchester when we charged into the -town—you led me a little you know, and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt Eloise's hand in mine as we went down -the hall. "I hate him," she said, tossing her head -back toward the old man. "It's mean and -sinful; but I hate him! After all these years to -greet you in that way. And Braxton Bragg—you -should see what a fool he is, Jack, in his -captain's straps, and living hourly up to his -name!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="colonel-goff"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">COLONEL GOFF</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Colonel Goff followed us shortly afterwards -into the hall. He had ridden over on his -English hunter while Eloise and I had been on the -lawn greeting our tree friends. He was -immaculately groomed, in polished boots, puttees -and cap, an English crop in his hands. Fifty -years old, his black hair slightly streaked with -gray, he was handsome, and there was a masterful -air about him that even an enemy must have -admired. A younger son of the Earl of Carfax, -he had come to America when my grandsire was -fighting with Stonewall Jackson in Virginia. He -had volunteered for service, and had been placed -in Jackson's corps, and on my grandsire's staff. -Here his real, sterling qualities found birth and -he proved to be a brilliant soldier. It was he -who charged ahead of the rebel yell and led the -advance that scattered Banks. It was he who -led again at Cedar Creek, caught the brilliant -Sheridan napping, and sent his command reeling -back in a retreat which would have meant -demoralization for anyone but Sheridan. His -fondness for my grandsire was no less than the -old man's for him, and after the war Colonel -Goff, being in disgrace, it was said, with his father -at home, moved to Tennessee to be near his old -commander. He had bought a fine place near -ours, and here he had lived the life of an English -gentleman, with his hounds, his horses, and his -utter disregard of all the local and established -ideas of country temperance or morals. He was -not a man who asked for things, he took them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even before I left home I had secretly rebelled -at his admiration for Eloise. In all her masterful -ways, her riding, her fox chasing, her hunting -with the men, following Goff or the General -all day on her pony, and killing quail dead-straight, -in the flush of the covey, he had openly -admired her. Afterwards I heard him say that -she was a duchess born, and the only one he had -seen in America. He had humored, petted and -helped to spoil her as a child. As a girl, there -never was a costly thing she wanted but he gave -it to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the dining-room, when supper had been -announced, I noticed the flushed pleasure in Eloise's -eyes at sight of him. It was half a daring look, -as of the hunted defying the hunter, that I saw -in her eyes, but I could not rightly decipher it, -or tell whether it meant she was conquered or as -yet unconquered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My heart burned with jealousy at the sight of -it. The great joy of my home-coming was -gone! I knew his way, and that he would stay -for supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had thought," I whispered sourly to Eloise, -"that I would at least have this first evening -alone with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise laughed. "Oh, he comes when he -pleases, and I—I send him home when I please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had greeted me pleasantly, but during -supper he paid little attention to me. Once he -laughed at my study of forestry, and added, -"And to go to Germany for it, when you might -have gone to England!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After supper, when I had gone with Aunt -Lucretia to the barn to help her with a sick colt, -I smelt the odor of his cigar coming up from -our old seat under the elm. I grew bitter at -the thought that anyone but I should sit there -with Eloise. My Aunt must have noticed -this, for she called: "Come in here—both of -you. This isn't fair to Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia and Colonel Goff could never -meet ten minutes in their lives without a heated -argument over American and English horses. -She generally worsted him, because she had all -the records at her tongue's end, and because in -any kind of controversy she was fearless. For -an hour to-night, and until he left, she scored him -fearlessly. "Take that nick-tailed horse of -yours," said Aunt Lucretia, "Colonel Goff, -couldn't you do better than that in England?" There -were two things which always especially -incensed her; one was to cut off a horse's tail and -the other to import an animal from England, -when a better one might be had here.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff explained that there were no such -horses in America. "He is a four-mile hurdler," -said he. "You've nothing of the kind in this -blooming country."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, madam, he holds the record jump -behind the Quoin hounds at Melton-Mowbry. The -kill was in the main driveway of a manor and -his rider cleared the picket fence to be in -first. That fence measured five and a half feet -and to this day it is the record at Melton-Mowbry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A four-miler, that means a running horse," -said my Aunt. "Of course we have them. And -a hurdler—that's only a jumping horse. Now, -we've never cared much for jumpers. Why, I've -a mule in my barn that can go over a ten rail -fence any day. Uncle Ned says she just climbs -it; anyway, I've never been able to build one high -enough to keep her out of the cornfield on the -other side. But there's Eloise's Satan, son of -Young Hickory, scion of General Jackson's -Truxton. The man his sire is named for used to beat -your English at any kind of a game at New Orleans, -and I'll wager that Satan would be a mighty -hurdler and high jumper if he only had a chawnce," -she said, smiling, in funny mimicry of Goff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fawncy!" laughed Goff, twisting his -mustache. "Why, he couldn't jump over a chalk -line! It's all in the training and pedigree! My -Nestor colt holds the record for the Melton-Mowbry -meet, and his high jump was five feet six."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt turned the subject as if it were -forgotten. But I knew she never forgot, and that -she had something up her sleeve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was worried that Goff should linger so on -my first night, for I saw plainly that he hoped -we would retire and that he wanted to get Eloise -off for a </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span>. Aunt Lucretia saw this also, -and whispered to me when she got the chance, -"Freeze him out, Jack; he shan't have her to-night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Major Hawthorn," she said presently, -turning and rising abruptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The major came in on us silently, in his soft, -well-bred way. I rose instantly to greet him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, my boy!" said he, throwing one arm -around me, and drawing me to him. "How you -have grown! I heard you had come home, and I -had to see you to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you didn't want to see </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>?" said Eloise, -coming up, and kissing him; for the Major was -her ideal, and she was always his pet. "Now, -Major, you always said that you loved me as -much as you did Jack," she teased, winding an -arm into his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just the same as ever, my dear; you are both -my two children always," he laughed. "Why, -good evening, Goff—and the General, where is -he?" he asked my Aunt Lucretia. "I have news -that will please him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt went after my grandfather.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," he turned to me, "what a man you -have grown into! I'm hungry for a long talk -with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Major sat down, and Colonel Goff offered -him a cigar. He struck a match, but before -using it, held it a moment to my face. -"Inspection, Jack," said he, smiling; "you know how -hard it is to break an old soldier of his habits."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw his finely-cut, sensitive face light up. I -noticed the familiar turn of his mustache, his -kindly mouth, the correct dress, the straight, -martial bearing, and the courtesy, that seemed a -gift of his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it looks as if I might die in harness," -he went on. "Ah, here's the General."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose and shook hands with my grandsire. -"I have come over to tell you, General, of a -telegram I received this afternoon from the -President, and I should so like to have your advice -before answering—the advice of all of you," -he said kindly, turning and bowing our way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Hawthorne," said my grandsire, "I -know what it is—I knew it was coming—I -wrote Joe Wheeler—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you had something to do with it," -said the Major, "and I shall abide by your -decision, my General," he added softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"McKinley has appointed you Brigadier-General," -went on my grandsire quietly. "The -First Tennessee will be in your brigade. I can't -talk of it, Hawthorne—I want to go to the -Philippines with you so bad, and give the damned -Yankees—ah, pardon—pardon me—I mean -the damned Spaniards another good drubbing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a burst of laughter from us all. -My grandsire sat down confused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is as you said," Major Hawthorne replied, -"and I am going to do as you say, General. I -have taken your orders in Virginia too often to -refuse now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hawthorne, I envy you; by gad, I envy you," -said the old man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"General, do you know that I never was so -happy before? I have so wanted to fight under -the old flag. Jack," he turned to me, his face -smiling, "Jack, I have come to see you for this -purpose—I want you on my staff—I know the -training you have had, I know the stuff that is -in you. I want you, my boy. I've ridden ten -miles to-night to tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut—tut—Hawthorne—nonsense!" broke -in the General. "Don't start out making breaks -like that. Jack is a good boy, but he is not a -fighter—now, there's Braxton Bragg—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My grandfather is doubtless right, General -Hawthorne," I said quietly. "I thank you from -my heart for your kindness—but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise arose flushing, indignant. "Jack </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> a -fighter; a better fighter than some people who -strut around in khaki, and make great pretense, -but amount to nothing," she said deliberately and -with emphasis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she came over and put one arm affectionately -on my shoulder. "And General Rutherford," -she went on, her voice trembling -with anger, "I mean this for you, and I mean -no disrespect; but it is cruel of you the way you -have slurred Jack, and I almost doubt that you -ever made the good fighting record you have, -when I think how easily you can be fooled into -taking a tin soldier for the real thing! I do, -and now you know what </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff laughed, pleased. "You pinked -him just right, Eloise. Been thinking I'd tell the -General that myself—eh, General?" and he -slapped the old man familiarly on the back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old General answered testily, "Tut—tut—madam;" -and then he laughed. "Gad, -but I wish you were a man! Damned if </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> -wouldn't fight!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="pedigrees-and-principles"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">PEDIGREES AND PRINCIPLES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>My Aunt Lucretia undoubtedly was the real -master of The Home Stretch. She ruled its -thousand acres of low, rolling, blue grass land, -which bore in pioneer days the canebrake and the -poplar, and for a century had been the nursery -of thoroughbreds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt lived and dreamed in pedigrees. -Heaven, according to her, was a blue-grass -meadow filled with pedigreed people, and -hell—I remember how I had laughed when she said, -"Why, Jack, if there is such a place, it's a low -jockey-yard filled with scrubs!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pedigrees, I am certain, was her gauge of life. -She was more man than woman, handsome though -she was. She should have been a bewigged, -knee-breeched, ruffle-shirted, horse-racing Virginia -gentleman of the old school, as many of her -ancestors had been. She still clung to a few blooded -horses, though her immaculate dairy of Jersey -cows was her greatest pride. When my parents -died, even before I could remember, she had -adopted me. She intended that I should inherit -The Home Stretch. Then, true to her ideas, she -had planned a proper mate for me. She had been -a success in mating everything but herself. Her -ribbons won at State Fairs and in Horse Shows -proved it; for her Merino sheep she held a great -cup from the International Exhibit in Paris. -The wool of her Tennessee sheep had gone back -across the ocean, and beaten the parent wool on -its own soil. This great, heavy, solid silver cup -sat on the mantel in the library, and every spring, -when I had a cold, she had given me punch cobbler -out of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had early paired me off with Eloise Ward, -who was an orphan, and a distant relative of her -mother. My Aunt had adopted her, as she had -me, and given her every grace of a fashionable -education. At ten she had, as she expressed it, -engaged us. I remember it was Eloise's tenth -birthday and my twelfth. She bought a little -turquoise ring and made me give it to Eloise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Jack, Eloise is yours! Eloise, you will -marry him when you are grown. Now kiss each -other as sensibly engaged people do, to seal it. -After this no more kissing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The last advice was unneeded. Up to then -we had never kissed, but had fought continually. -Knowing Aunt Lucretia, and that if we did not -do as she said, something uncomfortable would -happen to us, we screwed up our mouths, each -trying to outdo the other in mock martyrdom, and -complied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After that Aunt Lucretia was very gracious. -I think we showed remarkable horse-sense, young -as we were, in carrying out her wishes, inasmuch -as we expected some day to own the great farm -and house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To comfort me she used to say—for she knew -my love of blooded stock: "She is beautiful, -Jack, well built and coupled just right in the back. -One link more of vertebræ would have spoiled her, -turned her up too sloping between the shoulders, -and made her gangling in the hips. If there's too -many links in a filly's back, when the pinch of -contest comes, you know, Jack, as well as I do, -there will be a crumpling—and it is generally in -their legs. And Eloise's, Jack—well, you should -see it—thoroughbred—taut as a bow string—holding -hip and head together. And not too short, -either, Jack; the little dicky, short-backed ones, -with schooner hips, are a sure sign of several -vertebræ being lost by sitting on them for too many -generations at the loom or the wheel, or carrying home -the week's washing on their heads! It's the scrub -sign, my boy. And Eloise is clean-limbed with -good flat bones. Jack, as you love me and your -God, never marry a woman that can't span her -ankle with her thumb and forefinger—that kind -of a fetlock is a scrub of the most pronounced -type! It came from ancestors before them for a -thousand years, who had all their weight on their -ankles—just hauling plows like beasts of -burden. And Eloise has great style with a fine sweep -and action. Look how boldly she steps and clean -and true! No loblolling, lazy ambling there—hitting -even on the ground—and her hair, -Jack—red-chestnut—it is beautiful and not too -much. Shun the brood-mare with mane thick and -heavy. It is pretty but comes from the scrub -Shetlands or Andalusian jennets. Look—look, -Jack—isn't she beautiful?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I watched her myself, tall, her scornful, daring -head thrown back, her fine braids of sorrel, silken -hair flying out, as in a long-limbed, leaping sweep, -she chased the collie across the yard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The comparison was fitting—as a thoroughbred, -Eloise was superb. My Aunt had copied -it all by herself, tabulating for me, most -elaborately and artistically, on a great sheet of -parchment, Eloise's pedigree. It was such a tabulation -as I had seen her work over night after night, -often for months, handing down volume after -volume of the English and Bruce's Stud Book -and the Trotting and Pacing Register. In bold, -block, decorated letters, she gradually evolved -Eloise's sire and dam, as she grimly called them, -and thence on to granddams and g. g. dams -(every g. as I learned standing for another generation) -until it looked, when finished, like a great -river, with a hundred branching streams flowing -in, and an endless row of g. g. g. g. g.'s</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under each sire and dam, and in red ink, in -contrast to the black of their names, she had -written their records, short and pointed, and often with -astonishing frankness. I remember that under -her grandsire—a Governor of Virginia—the -red ink ran: </span><em class="italics">Died of a wetting, while drunk at -a horse race! Watch your children for too much -crude liquor!</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under one of her dams, daughter of a -Carolina judge, she had: </span><em class="italics">She had a streak of -common, for she ate onions. If you have daughters, -don't plant the things in your garden!</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another of her great Virginia ancestors was a -preacher, noted for his zeal in proselyting; under -him was: </span><em class="italics">Too religious—the reaction may -come in your grandson, who is likely to be an -infidel, Nature maintaining her balance in morals -as in matter</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now that I had come home from Germany -it was evidently my Aunt's intention that Eloise -and I should marry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Eloise," said she, after our guests had -left, and my grandfather had retired, "we will -light Jack to bed in the old way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise jumped up, slipping her arm into mine. -Then she two-stepped with me up the hall, -humming "A Hot Time In The Old Town To-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia looked on, her stern face relaxed -into a satisfied smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I slipped my arm around Eloise's slim waist, -and, bending over, tried to kiss her cheek. But -she drew back laughing, and Aunt Lucretia's -voice came sternly from behind. "Jack—Eloise!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stopped instantly under the chandelier. -Aunt Lucretia shut the heavy doors, and came -up with all the sternness of a Roman lictor in her -face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Turn her loose, Jack. Listen, both of you: -I had intended to inform you to-morrow finally, -but this is as good a time as any."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stood silent before her. Eloise's pretty -mouth drooped in pretended humbleness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know how I love you both, and—well, -how you respect each other. You know that I -have planned and dreamed for you both, ever -since I brought you together here. Now let me -see. This is April—well, I am going to marry -you to each other in the fall, and until I marry -you off," she went on sternly, "I have only one -rule—no hugging—no kissing. It is bad -before marriage, and after you are married," she -added with becoming stiffness, "you will not want to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you think your conditions are awfully -severe for engaged people?" asked Eloise demurely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I may seal it with a kiss surely, Aunt -Lucretia," I said, "for once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not for once. That silly performance -has caused more trouble in the world than all -the sins of Satan combined. We will never have -a decent race of people till kissing is cut out," -she exclaimed. "There, no more at present—march!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she marched us into my room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't this fine!" I said, looking around at -the old room, glad to be home again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was twenty by twenty, the pioneer size, with -a great fireplace, built of oak and ash. In a -corner was my old mahogany tester bed, big -posted and canopy-topped. The little cherry -writing desk stood near, and so did the quaint -mahogany bureau, resting on dragon claws, with -great drawers for a base, and ending pyramid-like -in a top of granite finish, set off by a little mirror, -and with a tiny shaving drawer for my razors. -Big windows looked out on all sides.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After Eloise had left Aunt Lucretia sat quietly -thinking, looking now and then at a pedigree of -Eloise which she had once made and hung over -my mantel. It was framed in walnut and -decorated with fancy letters. At last she smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't she a thoroughbred, Jack?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't really got my breath yet, Aunt -Lucretia," I answered. "I never dreamed she -would grow into a being so beautiful. Don't you -really believe you might er—er—hurry up -this—er—affair—" and I stopped, blushing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia broke out in her rare, -good-humored laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor boy! Jack, you must be careful. You -talk as if you had a real case of the silly, -unsensible thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Always had it, Aunt Lucretia," I smiled weakly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, that would be very unfortunate. I -want you to marry on common sense—not love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know how I have always loved her," I -went on. Aunt Lucretia glanced sharply at me. -"I mean how I've cared for her," I amended. -"But do you—do you honestly believe, Aunt -Lucretia, that she loves me—cares for me that way?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut—tut," she said sharply, "what nonsense -you talk! What does it matter? This silly love -business has spoiled more good pedigrees and -brought more fools into the world, I tell you, than -anything else under the sun. What a fine breed -of folks we'd have had in the world by now if -so many idiots had not fallen in love and married -without a moment's thought of results. You -ought to be grateful to me, Jack," she continued -after a while; "you will be grateful, I am sure, -some day, that you had me to select a wife for -you and didn't just happen to fall in love. That's -an accident often as fatal as happening to fall -down the steps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is awful, Jack, this haphazard of -humanity!" she went on in a moment. "No -wonder only one in a hundred is born who has got -any brains in his head. Think of it, Jack, our -race is so pig-headed from thoughtless marryings -that it took them three hundred years after they -invented a saddle before it dawned upon them -that they needed stirrups to complete it. Rode -three centuries on bare saddles for lack of sense -enough to invent stirrups! Some day for the -benefit of humanity I am going to open a human -Registry. I want to do this because I think it is our -duty to try to teach people to take as much -interest in their own children's pedigree as they do -in their horses' or dogs'. Many a man falls in -love with and marries a woman whose qualities -and character, and pedigree, if she were a horse, -he wouldn't be caught trading a blind mule for! -And many a woman, under the same divine influence, -marries some vicious brute of a man for -no other reason than because she has just fallen -in love with him, or maybe wants to reform him, -who, if he were turned into a buggy horse she -wouldn't be caught risking her neck behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And this is the way I'd go to registering my -people," she continued. "In all registration -there must be a foundation stock. For man, I'd -let Truthfulness, Bravery, Honesty, Manliness, -and Ability to Do Things, count as Foundations. -This would change the present social system -radically and let into good society and life a flood of -good blood that is at present badly needed but -is shut out, unless it suddenly happens to get rich -and comes in under a dress suit. I would make -accomplishments, the </span><em class="italics">Ability to Do Things</em><span>, from -the Ability to do Poetry, Art, Drama, Music—everything -that is worth while—to the ability to -make two blades of grass grow, the greatest of -them all, count as my classes, and it wouldn't -take me long to straighten out Old Humanity -and breed a race of people, who, in a few generations, -as old Horace says, would strike the stars -with their uplifted heads!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed. "Look, Jack, here it is. I have -worked it all out, just for fun." She unrolled a -parchment, as immaculately executed in decorated -letters as Eloise's pedigree had been. Then she -read, glancing over her glasses now and then to -emphasize her remarks.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"</span><em class="italics">A STANDARD OF HUMAN REGISTRATION</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When white men and women meet the following requirements -and are duly registered, they shall be accepted -as standard bred, and shall be permitted to marry:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>FIRST: Any white man, who has a home of his own and -is honest, industrious, and truthful, and sound -in wind, limb and eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>SECOND: Any white woman, who can cook a good meal, -make her own clothes, keep a home clean, lives -a pure life, and has some moral standard for -herself and children, and will agree to raise -them under it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>THIRD: Every man who is the father of a great man or -woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>FOURTH: Every woman who is the mother of a great -man or woman.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">NON-STANDARD</em><span>:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The following shall be Non-Standard, and neither they -nor their children shall be registered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>FIRST: Fools.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>SECOND: Liars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>THIRD: Cranks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>FOURTH: Idiots.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>FIFTH: Geniuses. They are freaks merely, and fools -in another form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>SIXTH: Sissy men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>SEVENTH: Consumptives, the cancerous, the insane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>EIGHTH: Impure women.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>NINTH: Society people wherever found, and their one -child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>TENTH: Married men who lead Germans.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>ELEVENTH: The children of women who play cards for -money and prizes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>TWELFTH: Evangelists who preach slang from the pulpit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>THIRTEENTH: Praying lawyers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>FOURTEENTH: Trading preachers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>FIFTEENTH: Professional politicians.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>SIXTEENTH: Bank cashiers who run Sunday Schools.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>SEVENTEENTH: Doctors who cut open people quickly, -or dope them with much medicine.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>LUCRETIA RUTHERFORD,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>Registrar."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I laughed. "It wouldn't do any harm to try -it awhile, Aunt Lucretia; but—referring again -to Eloise—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll not refer again to Eloise," she said, -seeing what I was coming to; "this thing is settled. -You two will marry this fall, and until then I -want no foolishness around me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, suppose she—" I began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is not to suppose anything—nor you. -Get her a beautiful ring the next time you go to -town. I'll attend to the rest of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We talked for an hour or two. I could see -how glad she was that I was at home again, for, -with all of her stern ways, my Aunt Lucretia was -very fond of me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And to think of your being the man you are, -Jack," she said finally, "and that lameness all gone. -Ah, but that is what I'm telling you—the -Germans are the greatest thinkers in the -world—because—well, because they have been bred to -think. Yes, it is good to see you here again, -Jack, and sound, and you will earn your oats -from now on, young man, remember that."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-make-believe"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MAKE-BELIEVE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After Aunt Lucretia had gone there was a -faint tap at my window, which I knew of old. -When I raised the sash Eloise stood outside, -smiling at me. On the veranda she slipped her -arm through mine, and led the way to our old -seat under the hickories.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," she began, and her serious tone -seemed to bode no good, "I just couldn't go to -sleep until I had talked with you. Aunt Lucretia -thinks I'm in bed; just as she used to think -we both were when we weren't, Little Brother." She -smiled half tenderly. "I think I ought to -speak to you. This thing is getting serious, -don't you think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's been that way with me all the time," I -said earnestly, "if I could only get you to look -at it seriously—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For reply she thumped my cheek with her -thumb and forefinger. It was a trick Aunt -Lucretia had used when I had been naughty as a -boy, and Eloise knew that nothing made me -madder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Jack—no nonsense—listen. We -must do something—about—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our marriage this fall?" I interrupted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise laughed. "Isn't it nonsense?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I don't know," I said. "She has always -said so, and we have always done as she said. -I have always found it was the best thing for me," -I added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise pretended indignation. "Well, now, -let me tell you, Jack, this is my funeral as well as -yours, and for once this isn't the right idea!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said I, "maybe you've grown big enough -since I saw you to defy Aunt Lucretia. Well, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> -haven't; and dear, dear Little Sister," I went on, -taking her slim hand in mine with more warmth -than she seemed to like, "I have learned to hold -my own among men, but Aunt Lucretia is a very -different thing! I am not going to defy her, or -go contrary to her wishes—I've tried it and -know better! And you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I am," she said, moving a little -away from me; "the idea! Why, Jack, it is -absurd! Jack—" and instantly she stopped. Her -voice dropped with a sad little wilt, and she laid -her head upon my shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew that she was brave and never cried, or -else I would have believed she was in tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Little Sister," I said consolingly, "why, -what is it? What has happened since I left? -This has been Aunt Lucretia's dream all her life, -and mine too," I said, tenderly kissing her cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise sighed; then after a while she answered. -"Of course, Jack, she has said that always, ever -since we were children, and being children, why -we couldn't say anything, for our very home and -living depended on it. But Jack, I see it all now. -I'm ashamed of it—though I couldn't help -it—this—this awful buy-and-sell way, this bartering -me because I am poor and an orphan, this closing -the chance of the great dream of my life for -me—that one dream which every woman loves -more than life, Jack. It's—why, I've treated -you so badly. I wonder that you care for me at -all. But—oh, Jack, I had such ideas of love, -and now to be mated off like her cattle!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it," I said, "only you were never as -mean as you say. Young as we were I felt it, -too, and that is why I didn't blame you. But it -never made any difference with me, Eloise—I -have loved you always, and I'm as proud of you -now as anyone can be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext" id="id1"><span>"Oh, you dear boy," said she. She laid her -head upon my shoulder, then reached up and -kissed me on the cheek. She was silent and I was -never so happy, with her head lying there, and the -perfume of her hair in my face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last she laughed. "Jack, you neglected me -shamefully while you were away, studying."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wrote you a love letter every week!" I exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But people in love write to each other every -day," she said. "You don't really love me, Jack!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise, I couldn't write every day, but I -thought of you the last thing every night before I -went to sleep, and I slept with your picture under -my pillow, and I used to play that we were -married, and that my dressing gown in the chair was -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O, Jack," and she clasped my hand in hers, -"you dear boy! And I must say I never dreamed -you'd be so big and handsome!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I seized her hands, holding them in mine: -"And let me tell you, Eloise, you almost took my -breath when I saw you for the first time this morning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a long silence before Eloise spoke. -"Jack, what are we going to do about—about—Aunt -Lucretia?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I tell you there is nothing to do but to -do as she says—marry—you know how she has -planned this all her life. It would break her -heart; and mine," I added softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen now," said Eloise earnestly. "Jack, -that is nonsense. I don't love you that way nor -you me. I don't care what she says. Love is -made from higher, nobler motives, and true -marriages should be made in heaven as they say. I," -she went on with a sigh, "Jack, I have given up; -I was not made for love like that—as you want -to love me. I am too selfish, I care too much for -the fine world around me, for my own self, for -pleasure. I love to will, to conquer, Jack. I -don't want to love, to give myself up to any man -and his whims unless—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unless what?" I asked eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, two things," she said. "First; unless -I loved him—oh, if I only could! How I would -love him! And if not that—well, for—for—it -would have to be compensation of another kind, -such as great wealth, and all that, to have a great -name like that of the Countess of Carfax."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Countess of Carfax?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was looking at me very earnestly. I felt -her eyes on my face. Something unpleasant -began to dawn upon me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, I cannot deceive you. I do not, I -cannot love anyone that way—that one sweet way. -It is not in me. I might have loved you that -way, Jack, it is the truth, but Aunt Lucretia has -thwarted the chance you had with me, with her -blooded stock idea of it. That is why I've treated -you so all my life; it was not I, it was Love -resenting this profanity of itself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could not speak. Eloise, I saw, had much to -tell that I did not know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Four years is a long time to be away, and -after you left I was so lonely, I had no comrade, -no Little Brother in my summer vacations. And -you were far away, and Colonel Goff—you know -how queerly he has always persisted in wanting -to marry me some day—not quite as bad as -Aunt Lucretia's way, but almost as bad—because, -well, I think for no other reason than because I -ride well—" she was speaking brokenly. "Aunt -Lucretia wants me to marry you because I've got -a good pedigree, and Colonel Goff wants me to -marry him because I ride well, but I want to marry -someone because I love him. You know how -grandfather is about Colonel Goff, Jack? Oh, I -can't tell it all, but he has made it so unpleasant -for me since you left, worrying me about—that -I should marry Colonel Goff—that I had -nothing, and how great a man Colonel Goff -was—and—oh, he has seemed to become childish of -late, so irritable and strange, and so he has almost -driven me away from home or into marrying -Colonel Goff; and you were far away, Jack. And -so when Colonel Goff—well, he was as persistent -as grandfather, and so kind always and good to -me—Jack, you see how I was placed between them—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" I said bitterly, "go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so when Colonel Goff asked me, I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The great trees above me seemed to reel, and -my heart to stop, and then thump fiercely in my -throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise, please don't," I begged. "Do you—you -don't love that man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course not," she answered coolly, and very -quietly, "but—and this is my secret, Jack. -Promise me—it isn't known yet, but it will be -before long. You know since he came home from -the war with grandfather and lived here he has -been at outs with his people in England. You -know how he had to leave them. Well, it seems -that all of his brothers over there have died but -one, and that Colonel Goff is next heir, and that -he has received a letter from the physician -asking him to come and see his brother before he dies, -that he wants to arrange about the estates, for -they are large, and the brother is the Earl of Carfax."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had dropped her hand, and my head was -bent. I knew what was coming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you don't love him, Eloise, surely—" I -arose, the stars whirling above my head, the -great trees soughing as in sorrow. She came up -in the starlight and put her arms around my neck. -She tried to laugh and pull me back to our seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," she said, "I want you to help me—will -you not do something—the last something I -shall ever ask you for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love you enough to give you my life," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were always so good to me. It is this, -Jack—our secret: Colonel Goff and I will be -married as soon as he can arrange to go back to -England, in a month or two. I don't want any -scene with Aunt Lucretia, and so, and so, Jack, -we'll just make-believe—let her believe it is all -right—that we are carrying out her plans up to -the very day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll say nothing," I answered; "you and Aunt -Lucretia can arrange it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll have to act as if you loved me, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot act any other way," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed, her voice floating up triumphantly. -"And you will have to send me that diamond ring, -you know—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise," I said again, after a moment, "this -is desecration! You know you don't love that old man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like him enough to be the Countess of -Carfax. If I've got to be sold to anyone, Jack," -she said with bitterness, "got to be traded off like -a Jersey, why I'd rather be traded off as the -Countess of Carfax than any other way!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I flushed hot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Jack, think of grandfather. It is that -or be turned out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise," I cried, "you know I wouldn't stand -for that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she whispered softly, "not if you could -help. But Jack, I forgot to tell you, you are -already out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could only look my astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted to write you," she went on, "but I -was afraid. I learned it all from Braxton -Bragg."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did he have to do with it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know he has had a silly idea that he was -going to marry me himself some day, though you -know how I have always despised him. Well, -Jack, you'll never know what he has done; because -you don't know the conditions on The Home -Stretch. I, myself, didn't, till Braxton Bragg -showed me the papers the very month you left. -You know how grandfather has always kept that -secret drawer in his safe locked? But you -remember how we children learned all about it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I remember Braxton showed it to me," I said. -"I never knew how he found it out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor I, nor how he stole the parchment from -it, the one that grandfather kept from all eyes, even -Aunt Lucretia's, for she knows nothing of it yet. -But he did, and he showed it to me, thinking—well, -you'll guess why. Jack, we're outcasts, you -and I, we have nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated a moment, then went on. "It -seems that the first John Rutherford, the Old -Indian fighter, who was killed at New Orleans, -left a secret paper with his will, in which he -begged the heir who inherited from him, your -great-grandfather, John Rutherford, second, who -fought in the Mexican war, you know, to bequeath -the estate to that son of his who should be -a soldier, and that it should be passed on in that -way secretly to each generation. Now John -Rutherford the second, had only one son, your -grandfather, and his son, Braxton's father, was -killed in the war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I see now," I said amazed, "and that -was why he wanted me to go to West Point."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why Braxton Bragg, who is a coward," -she cried indignantly, "did go to West Point, -after he stole that parchment and read it. And -as proof of it, when grandfather was trying to -persuade me to listen to Colonel Goff, he told me -he was going to leave The Home Stretch so that -it would go to Braxton Bragg after Aunt -Lucretia's death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In an instant I saw it all. I understood things -that I had given no serious thought to before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I am out," I agreed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, Little Brother, I hope I haven't made -you unhappy on your first night at home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did not speak; she sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so I am going to marry Colonel Goff, -Jack, and be the Countess of Carfax, and you'll -do as I say—you'll make-believe with me. I'd -so hate to have Aunt Lucretia know now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go on as if it were I," I said bitterly. -"I'd do anything for you, Eloise—and—and -I do hope you'll be happy yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head: "Jack, you do not know -me—that kind of happiness that I have craved -all my life is not for me, and it is so hard that -it should be, for I have always had such beautiful -dreams of that kind of happiness—I, who could -love so if I only might—I who wish it so, to be -widowed of it all my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could make you if you'd only wait—give -me a chance to prove mine—to make you love -me, Eloise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is too late. O, Jack, you deserve better -of me than this; you do not deserve so poor -return as this make-believe—a make-belief—only -this—a little sisterly kiss," and she held up her -face in the starlight to mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I sat silent. My heart—it would not take -such a make-believe tribute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I rose from our seat. "Good night, Eloise, I -wish now that I had stayed in Germany," I said as -I walked in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, come back, don't be angry with me. -I've done the best I could."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw her turn defiantly, like one who, receiving -a hurt, fights back. I left her sitting under -the trees.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-chimes-of-the-wisteria"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE CHIMES OF THE WISTERIA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I was up and out the next morning before Aunt -Lucretia or any of the servants. I wanted to get -to the dairy in time to see Tammas milk. I -longed to see his whitewashed cottage and the -clean, stone dairy under the hill, near the spring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I walked through the lot where the Jersey -herd had lain the night before, leaving shimmering -shapes of themselves impressed in the hollow -mold of blue grass, crushed and shining for lack -of dew. Nearby was the brood-mare paddock, -sloping downward to the meadow. Beyond, the -tree-covered hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a perfect picture; the sun flushing the -green of the hills, the air damp and tainted with -the earth-odor of early day. But I had not -beaten Tammas nor Marget, his good wife; -nobody ever beat them up, not even the cows. He -was calling them to the barn in the same way as -of old, in the voice that I had heard ever since I -could remember. He stood squarely in the barn -door, blocky and bowed of legs, his broad Scotch -face split wide across with a big, kindly mouth -from which came, like the deep tones of a -cathedral's bell down the valley: "Coom, -lassies—coom, noo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like children called into supper they obeyed; -silver grays, fawns, chocolates, red-fawns and -pied, crumpled of horns and slim of tail, marching -solemnly down. One, a three-year old heifer, -with her first calf, answered him like a school girl, -whirling half around in awkward romp and elephantine -effort to kick up her stiff heels even as -she had seen the standard-bred filly do!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How restful and natural Tammas's cottage -looked! I could see Marget bestirring herself for -greater cleanliness of an already over-clean -cottage. She was humming, and I guessed it was -one of her old kirk hymns or maybe Bobbie -Burns. For it was Marget who could read -Bobbie Burns! How rich and grand the lines came -in her broad dialect! I was a child when she -had begun to read Bobbie Burns to me; and though -I knew not what she said I hung upon her -numbers, and a queer, fine feeling swept over me. I -was nearly grown before I learned the dialect -myself, from hearing them talk to each other, and -knew the greatness of Bobbie Burns in the original.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tammas and Marget were good people, as -genuine as the rocksalt they gave the herd to lick, -hiding it in the deep grasses of the meadow, where -the thirsty cows would come upon it in unexpected -places. Once when I found a cube of it, gleaming -in the grass for the cows, I thought how much -their own lives were like that pure cube of -comfort, doing their work in kindliness and obscurity. -Then the clamoring tongues of the beagles -thrilled me as of old, as the game little fellows -came down the slope of the hill. They had -followed me from the house and struck the trail of -an early stray rabbit. Across the hills they went, -their little piping tongues echoing slowly as they -nosed along.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For many years Tammas and Marget had run -my Aunt's dairy in the hollow where the great -stream came tumbling down from the hills. I -looked at it there in the valley, and I tasted again -in anticipation the cottage cheese, the buttermilk, -and the Scotch rye bread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now I saw Marget bestirring herself and again -up the valley I heard the call, "</span><em class="italics">Coom, lassies, -coom, noo!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In changing their home, Tammas and Marget -had changed little else. Even after twenty-five -years of life at The Home Stretch they still spoke -to each other in their native tongue, though to -others they often spoke English with their broad -brogue. Even then, Scotch words would break -in on their English with the suddenness and sweep -of a tidal wave flowing in from the firth. -Though they could speak English purely, and -were well read in their way, their earnestness might -always be gauged by the number of Scotch words -which crept into their talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marget had not yet seen me. I went up the -path to the little cottage porch, over which -wisteria, in full bloom, hung in purple bunches, and -whorls of clustering chimes. As I stood there -listening, I seemed to hear their chimes, for the -odor of the wisteria is a chime of memory. I -heard the melody of other days, faint and yet so -clear, memories that were almost legendary, of the -little boy, motherless, and who had never seen -his father, always a nature-worshiper, and a -tree-lover; of his Aunt Lucretia; of his adopted -sister, Eloise; of his fighting old grandsire, who had -been the right hand to Stonewall Jackson when he -swept clean the valley of the Shenandoah; and -of these two good Scotch people who had taken -him to their hearts even as their own. Here had -he dreamed and grown up, loving them and the -things they loved, and his dreams had been of -writing, of poetry, of music; and not of war, as -his grandsire had wished. Young as he was he -had seen war with clear eyes. How it took the -bravest and the best,—and left the weaklings to -reproduce themselves. It reversed all the laws of -Nature. If Nature had done the same thing for -the flowers, not a larkspur purpling the meadows -in blossoming ladders, not a wild lupine in whorls -of stars, not a nodding head of clover blossom, -not a stone-crop of the early spring, nor the flushes -of wild hepatica would have survived to-day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dog fennel alone would inherit the earth!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marget, her keen black eyes lighting up with -that joy I knew so well, came to meet me. -She seized my hands in both of hers, and -shouted to Tammas: "Tammas, whaur are ye, -Tammas? Come quick an' see whit I hae to -show ye!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Weel, weel, I'm comin', wumman," said -Tammas, wobbling up in his great awkward way, -his broad mouth smiling. He grasped both my -hands in his. "It's Jack, oor Jack! Whit wey -did ye no' tell me ye were here? Eh, Marget, -but jist see whit a man oor Jack is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt Marget's keen eyes sweep over me. -"Ay, Tammas, but is na he a wee bit shilpit like? -I dinna like to see him sae pale like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I laughed. "Oh, Marget, you and Tammas, -come, you make me think of the lecture room and -the discipline of the German drill-master. I smell -those Scotch scones right there upon the table, and -the cottage cheese, I haven't had any for four -years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," laughed Marget, "he's jist like he aye -was, oor laddie. His appetite and his heart were -aye the biggest pairts o' him. Eh, but I'm that -glad tae see ye laddie, if ever I kissed ony that -was o' the male gender, it's you I'd be kissing. -Come on ben."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They led me in, Marget holding my hand and -beaming up into my face. "Wha ever wad hae -thocht it, oor wee Jack," she kept saying proudly -to Tammas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wheest," said Tammas, vainly trying to say -one thing and mean another, "Wheest wumman, -it's Mr. Jack noo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For answer I stopped and looked at him with -feigned pain, and Marget clapped her hands and -laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is Elsie?" I said, suddenly remembering. -"Has she grown any?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought Tammas's smile would spread over -the rest of him when I asked for his granddaughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has she grown any? My, my! Why listen, -Jack, 'tis four years since you saw her—she was -twelve then—our little lassie, and four years -make a deal o' difference in a lassie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has jist gane oot to the dairy to get some -cream for breakfast," said Marget. "See, -yonder she comes. Look an' tell me if she's the -same," and Marget pointed with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw a tall girl coming down the little path, -carrying a pitcher of cream in one hand and -twirling a Scotch sunbonnet in the other. Her dark -red-brown hair fell in two school girl braids down -her back. Her every line showed gentleness of -breeding; and her beauty of face was really -wonderful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's jist pat on ane o' her low necked morning -gowns, an' she's that thin that they show ower -muckle o' her neck," said Marget apologetically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is lovely," I said; "you should have -named her Annie Laurie," and I hummed the old -song:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Her cheek is like the snow drift,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her neck is like the swan."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Dae ye really think she is that bonnie?" Tammas -smiled, pleased that I should have compared -her to Annie Laurie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not exactly beauty so much, Tammas," I -said; "it is something like royalty. She looks like -some Greek nymph of the woods that has stepped -out of a water lily."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marget was smiling at my praise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but it's jist as ye say, Jack," said -Tammas. "Oor lassie looks that way." He stopped -and his voice dropped. "An' her bonnie mother, -oor daughter,—it is that like her that Elsie is,—aye, -the very twin star o' oor ain bairn, Marget."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look," said Marget, "dae you ken I canna -mak her wear her shoes yet, when there's nobody -aboot, and the pools o' the spring sae inviting. -Look ye, if ever there was a child," and she -laughed, pulling Tammas and me to the door to -see better.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie had stopped, and sat down on the grass -above the pool, her pitcher beside her, and was -splashing her feet in the water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She may be grown, Tammas, but she is the -same child I've known always. I remember the -funny little thing when she was two years old."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three," corrected Marget, "that was when -we took her after the passing of oor bonnie lassie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how she loved to follow me around like -a kitten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had never asked Tammas and Marget for -Elsie's history. I knew it had been sad to -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not tell you about her. I did not tell -you, lad, it was all too sad," said Marget, as if -guessing my thoughts, "but noo that it is so long -ago and you have grown, you and Elsie, I think -it only fair that we tell you only a bit of it, so that -you may not misjudge her, nor us," and she -looked inquiringly at Tammas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tammas nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She was oor only daughter," she said, "we -never saw him. He stole oor lassie when she -lookit jist as ye see yon ane, and nae aulder, an' -because she wasna' o' his station, his graun' folk -scorned her and her bairn. Aye, but he was true, -tho', standing up for oor lassie till—till. Weel, -there was a tragedy, an' he had to flee for his life. -He gaed to the war somewhere—we never saw -him—an' we dinna ken. Then she died, and -syne we cam' here wi' Elsie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw the tears start into her eyes. "E-lsie, -E-lsie, here's our Mr. Jack come back," she -called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly there was a flutter of feet withdrawn -from the pool. The pitcher was left on the bank, -and the hat also. She came running, her blue -eyes smiling at me, quite unembarrassed, and even -singularly calm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She came up, put both her hands into mine, and -her blue eyes flashed at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kiss him," laughed Marget, "it's oor ain -Mr. Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She instantly obeyed, touching me lightly on -one cheek. Then in an earnest little voice she -said, "Mr. Jack, I'm so glad you have come home. -How I have missed you these four years!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I had dreamed that you had grown to be -so beautiful," I said teasingly, "I'd have come -home sooner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She glanced at me quickly and seriously. "Oh, -I've forgotten my cream and it's time for -breakfast," she said hastily, and ran back down the -path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should say so, Marget," I said. "How -hungry I am!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's good to be here again," I added, as I sat -down to the little table; "and, Tammas, there is -Elsie back with the cream. Put on some of that -clotted cream in the pot, cream thick, for it is a -long lost brother that I've been separated from."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but the cottage cheese. Don't forget -that is your appetizer," cried Marget authoritatively, -as she pushed a great saucer, flaked up to -white foaminess, toward me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For answer I fell to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold!" cried Tammas, his hand going up -and the great fun-loving mouth changing to quick -solemnity. Often as a boy I had seen his hand -raised most unexpectedly, and never had I failed -to obey. My head bent. Then Tammas, his -great knotted hand uplifted, prayed in Scotch, as -was his wont:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Oh, Thou wha kindly dost provide,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>For every creature's want!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>We bless Thee, God o' Nature wide,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>For a' Thy goodness lent:</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>An' gin it please Thee, heavenly guide,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>May never waur be sent;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>But whether granted or denied,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Lord, bless us wi' content!'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And to-day thanks be added, greatest of all, that -our Jackie is with us again. Amen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Amen," chimed in Marget.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked over the table at the Scotch scones, the -poached eggs, the funny little cuts of butter, -miniature loaves of it pressed and decorated. "I -see you've got the same bill of fare, Marget," I -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," she answered, falling again into English, -"we are two old people set in our ways, and -it seems to suit us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Noo, if you'd only told us you were coming," -said Tammas, trying to speak ironically, "I'd 'a -had some o' thae auld things ye're sae fond o', -Jackie, such as sliced Indian turnips like ye got -up in the lodge of the rocks on the hill yon day," -and he laughed as he recalled the burning my lips -got from the raw turnip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I laughed. "Tammas, it must not go back to -Aunt Lucretia that I ate my first breakfast with -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a mile to the hoose," said Marget, "an -it's only sax o'clock, sae there's a graun' excuse for -ye to eat anither breakfast, when ye gang back." She -smiled with that funny little smile I had -known of old when she wanted one to know that -she was meaning the opposite, but was too Scotch -to express it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Weel, we winna say onything about it," said -Tammas. "Jackie, lad, if ye've got onything -like ye're auld appetite, ye'll be ready for anither -at the hoose when ye get back. Dae ye mind hoo -ye used to dae that when ye were jist oor wee -laddie, running aboot the dairy an' dipping your -fingers on the sly in oor cream pots?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I let him launch into his favorite subject, -the cows, and the wonderful record they had made -since I left. Of Gladys Gaily, who had made her -pound of butter from less than five pounds of milk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, lad, 'tis the ould Top Sawyer bluid -that's doing it," he said proudly. And that I would -find it all in the last "Butter Tests of Jersey -Cows." Several of my old friends had died and -one—"Ou, but it hurts me sadly, my boy, to tell -it—Gladys Gaily, herself, has passed with that -milk fever. Aye, but it takes only the rich ones."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-stone-crop"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE STONE-CROP</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I remember that April day when I first saw the -stone-crop in bloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Across the valley from the dairy is the blue grass -pasture of the cows; and on a hillside studded with -dwarf cedars, Nature's first efforts to cover up her -nakedness after man's ax has passed, runs a streak -of bare, brown limestone, winding across the hills -an acre wide. Above it the grass and cedars grew -down to the bare rocks, and then they stopped -short, for no soil was there. Years before, -pioneer men, fighting, unthinking, world-conquering, -with the primal instinct of the Aryan </span><em class="italics">wander-lust</em><span> -in their blood, had stripped that spot of earth -of its clothing, leaving the naked ground beneath, -lifeless and bare. In all the beautiful blue grass -pasture this was the one scar: on this green shield -of Nature, the one rent. The birds, which love the -deep shade of the cedars, stopped at its borders -and flew back from the strip of brown desert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rabbits, hiding in the tangled thickets -above, and whose spring-water ran in the glen -below, made a path around it, through the concealing -grass and cedar boughs that brushed their furry -coats. None would cross this bare spot, hot to -their feet in summer and freezing to them in -winter, where they would be stared at by every bird, -or hunted by the eyes of men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even the crows drew their line there, and would -not fly over it; for the crow makes no path in the -sky above that does not parallel a path of supplies -below. Often had I seen the Jersey herd, brown -and gray and chocolate, browsing in a phalanx, -following the earliest grass which grew closest to -the rocks, come to the very border of this scar -in the cheek of the earth and then in sudden anger -plunge in and seek the cedars on the hill, anywhere -to forget this outrage on Nature!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I remember the spring I first saw the stone-crop. -The winter had been long and raw. Even the -blue grass had had a struggle to keep green, and -the cedars' stems had become black under the bite -of frost. But blacker yet lay the earth's scar -beyond them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then one day in the spring I went over the hill -to Tammas's home. As I came up from the slope -and out from the great lindens, and looked across -at the other hill for the ugly scar, I stopped thrilled -with a strange and nameless beauty. I have no -word for the exultation that swept over me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I remembered when Elizabeth Browning -was dying—she so unbeautiful in face and so -star-like in mind,—she uttered a poem which seemed -to me to surpass all that great woman ever wrote. -For the characters in it were she, her husband, and -her God: and the subject was The Beauty of Immortality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you feel, dearest?" he asked, holding -her in his arms and looking into her dying face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I feel beautiful," she said, as she smiled -back into his face and died.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, frail little woman, who never wrote a -weak line! O, earth-bound and earth-found one, -who never created save of heaven! O, little -homely one, whose portrait I did not till then even -love to recall, so different it seemed from the soul -which could write as it wrote: now it hangs the -most beautiful thing on my study wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stood there, looking, steeped in the thrill of -it. I thought a pink rainbow had fallen across -the hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the nobility of this pink flower went into -me, for there is nobleness even among flowers and -trees. The blue grass is the aristocrat, who sits -only at the richest tables, with cedars to wait on -him, refreshed with the waters of a thousand hills. -The bermuda runs hither and yon, sending its -stolons after the fat things of earth; and the -redtop grows only where it can reach the richest -granaries. The stone-crop alone clings to this bare -brown rock, shielding its poverty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seeing this, I gloried in the chance that faced -me, the chance to be another type of pioneer, and -to undo the wrongs and ravages of my forbears. -For this I had sacrificed the love of my grandsire, -the General, who had wanted me to be a soldier, -and of my Aunt Lucretia, and even of Eloise, it -seemed, that one sweet dream of my life. For in -the four years I had been gone from her I had -lost my chance to win her. What did her talk of -the night before mean but that she meant to wed -another?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-transplanted-pine"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE TRANSPLANTED PINE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Tradition, that greatest of all historians, had -it, that the first settlers on the lands of The Home -Stretch had been a young pioneer and his bride -from Virginia; and that she, leaving her old home -for a new one in the wilderness, yielded to the -pretty sentiment of her girl's heart, and brought -away with her a young pine from under her own -roof tree. Nursed and watered through all the -long journey, over mountains, wilderness and -river, she planted it among the great oaks and -poplars of her western home. Tradition told -how, when the young husband had built his double -log-cabin from the solid trunks of the black walnut -and thatched it with the rich red hearts of the -cedar shingles, the little bride cherished the pine. -The story was full of pathos; she and her baby -had died that first year, and both were buried in -the same grave under the little pine. It was a -great pine now, but lonely. It had been a great -pine since I could remember. It had always -appealed to me, standing alone amid the other trees. -For miles I could see it, towering above all the -others. And always a little tremor of loneliness -came, as one who passes a deserted schoolhouse -door where once children have played. The great -trees around it, oaks, elms, poplars, maples, seemed -at home. This was </span><em class="italics">their soil</em><span>, these were their -friends and kindred. But the pine was not of -them. It had been transplanted. Were trees -men, the pine would be a Highlander of the clan -McGregor. And away from its clan, in a valley -where it belonged not, in soil that made for -fatness and richness but not for religion and art, it -was lonely. For trees are but men who are dumb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Often, as a boy, staying with Dr. Gottlieb in his -cabin, I would awake at night and hear the pine -sighing. Once I remember there had been a fierce -storm, and as it swept through the forest it -maddened the other trees until they roared in their -wrath. But the lonely pine tree had called above -the roar of the others. One would not look in the -Swiss mountains for the cherries of the valley, -nor for the cedars of Lebanon in the rich loam -of the rivers. This pine was the Scotch McGregor -in an English court. It was Bonaparte on Elba. -It was Thomas Carlyle in Gaiety street. It was -a tree without a country....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Gottlieb lived among the trees in a double -log-cabin, and had lived there since I could -remember. My Aunt Lucretia's heart was as big -as her farm, and for many years she and Dr. Gottlieb -had been friends. He, being a scholar and a -botanist, a very babe in a strange land in spite of -all his learning, had been easily parted from what -little he had brought to America, and had actually -come to sickness and want. Then it was that my -Aunt Lucretia took him in and gave him this cabin -on her farm. Since then he had grown famous, -and was known over two continents as one of the -greatest living botanists. In fall and winter he -was dean of that department in a noted college, -but in spring and summer nothing could keep him -from his walnut log-cabin by the great pine in the -little valley, where his wild flowers grew in the -hills behind him and the trees were his friends -and comrades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His story was like that of many who claim -America as home. In the discontent of the -Bavarians in their struggle for a more liberal -government, many republican ideas were advanced. -Gottlieb, then a student in Munich, with a number -of other young men, attempted to celebrate -Washington's birthday in the Bavarian capital -with speeches so revolutionary that they brought -on a riot. In the fighting his roommate and best -friend killed a police officer. Gottlieb's family -was influential and stood high in royal favor. But -the boy who had done the killing was not so -fortunate. To be found out meant certain death for -him. So Gottlieb pleaded guilty for his friend's -sake, and would have been executed, but for the -influence of his family. Even they could not save -him from banishment, and so he had lived with -us, as great a patriot as I ever knew, loving his -country so that the thought of it would bring tears -to his eyes, loving his Fatherland, and yet himself -a man without a country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now I stood looking down on the double log-cabin -that was his home. All around it was peace -and calmness. Here had I learned under Dr. Gottlieb -to love the flowers, and the trees, and his books.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a picture his home made! A great -wooded blue grass hill rose gradually, slope on -slope, above it, and on a little plateau sat the solid -log-cabin. At the foot of the slope and running -like a horseshoe around it, was a bubbling stream, -coming from the hills to the north, circling around -and running into the valley below. Over this, a -rustic foot-bridge led to the house. The meadows -lay in front of it all. I stood back and wondered -how that young pioneer had known so accurately -and artistically where to place this cabin? Had it -been placed ten yards either way, to right or left, -it would have ruined the center of the background -of trees beyond, and fifty feet further in front -would have placed it too far down the dead level -of the center.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In stately distances around stood maples, -beeches and poplars, some towering high above the -cabin. Lengthwise to the rustic bridge it stood, -a beautiful, solid home of walnut, and the red -heart of the cedar, its dark, rich logs chinked with -the white cement of the lime hills. Clear across -the front ran the big porch, solid floored; both -ends flanked with purple stars of clematis, -hanging overhead, and drooping low over the entrance -its great masses of bloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The orchard, of apple, peach, plum, and cherry -trees, lay off to the right. The old-fashioned -flowers were all to the right and the pine tree -towered over them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I raised the latch and entered. Dr. Gottlieb -stood before me, framed by shelves of dried flowers -and herbs, a small man with a large head, kind -blue eyes. The broad brow wrinkled into its smile -as he saw me. I pointed to the stone-crop running -across the hill. "Oh, Dr. Gottlieb," I cried, -"what is it that in one night makes the bare spots -so beautiful?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He quit his books and came forward, taking -both of my hands in his. "Jack, Jack, my boy, -you have come back to us again—and from the -Fatherland—the Fatherland! ... Let me -hold your hand—it has touched the soil of the -Fatherland—let me look into your eyes, they -have seen the Rhine!" There were tears in his -blue eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you remember how it changes every -spring, Dr. Gottlieb?" I asked, pointing to the -distant crowned hills, the rainbow of stone-crop -beneath, and the level stretches of pasture land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled as he looked across at the crimson -covering of the bare hillside. "Ay; but I've not -been idle, Jack, since you left. You remember -what I had done before you went away—fifteen -hundred species all catalogued in my book." He -turned and pointed to the glass shelves around. -"Now I have added four hundred more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We talked long over our pipes. He had saved -some rare old German ale in cobwebbed bottles, -and these we broke in honor of my return. I had -to go over my entire life in Germany, and all the -four years' work there. As I dwelt on this, as I -told of the old places and scenes, he sat with his -head down, and I suspected tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I cannot remember when Dr. Gottlieb was not -in love with my Aunt Lucretia, though he had -never spoken to her on the subject. He spoke -only to me, and that always in the same way. -So I knew what was coming. I had heard it -before, and when I arose to go I could not help -but smile as he said, "Ah, Jack, but your Aunt -Lucretia! That most beautiful and charming of -women! Did you know that each of us has our -prototype in a plant or flower; did you know that -she resembles the great red wood lily—</span><em class="italics">lilium -Philadelphicum</em><span>? Ah, Jack, it has always been my -favorite."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="conquering-satan"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">CONQUERING SATAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Eloise and I had always enjoyed riding over The -Home Stretch with Aunt Lucretia. Since I could -remember she had ridden the same horse, a great -raw-boned sorrel pacer, full seventeen hands high, -and so powerful that he carried my aunt, large -woman though she was, as if she had been a child. -"His beauty is in his gait," she used to say; "there -is but one saddle gait fit for business, and that is -the nodding fox-trot, and Tempest has that perfectly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was amusing to watch them in action. With -his head down and nodding with every stride, -Tempest seemed fairly to butt his way into space, -reeling off the miles like a great machine in -motion, and Aunt Lucretia, in her great, -high-pommeled side saddle, double girthed and double -decked, sat him as comfortably as if she were in -her rocker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her saddle-bags, thrown over the saddle, were -in themselves unusual, for they held everything -needed in an emergency on the farm. In one -pocket were the hatchet and nails, for she never -rode by a loose plank but she nailed it on again, -and in the other were her medicines, everything -needed on the farm from a hypodermic syringe -to a package of salts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day after I came home I rode over the -farm with her. "It's good to ride Little Sister," -I said, stroking her crest. "What a beautiful -saddle mare she has made."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise did it," said my Aunt. "Jack, do -you know she was always foolish about that mare -after you left?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She squared her big horse up to me. "Jack," -she whispered, "I don't believe in the stuff, of -course. It is all foolishness and not fit to marry -on, but there is a great vein of sentiment in that -girl in spite of her make-believe and her -indifference. After you left she wouldn't ride -anything but that mare and I knew it was because of -you, and the clever way you did up those two old -braggarts of ours in that race."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did she, Aunt Lucretia?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at me cuttingly and then burst into -a laugh. "Jack, what shall I do with you? You -are so in love with Eloise that it's positively -painful. You must overcome it before you marry -her; it's not good policy, not manly nor becoming. -The greatest race of men was in the days when -a man took his wife by force, conquered her and -beat her into submission. He couldn't own her -until he proved he was a better man than she. -Now, the woman rules in everything. Take your -silly weddings; they're a glorification of the bride. -To see them one would think the poor devil of -a groom was a kind of matrimonial valet, a -second fiddler, used chiefly to make a background -for the bride to show off on—he is not marrying—oh, -no, it is the woman—and it's the same -everywhere. The women are writing our novels, -our magazines, our poetry, running our conventions, -starring in our theatres and churches, and -doing everything else worth while except making -the money. The men have become unconsciously -so enslaved that the few of them who do write -novels or poetry write effeminate things because the -age is under the influence of woman. There is -no man-poetry any longer, that's why I never -read it. If we don't get a man-age into the world -again," she added vehemently, "we are all going -to the devil, going to be wiped out by some heathen -man-race of the Nibelungen woods, not yet born!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I smiled guiltily, for I saw Eloise coming out -of the house and my heart fluttered queerly at -sight of her. She came forward and I saw Goff's -roses pinned on her breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is like old times, Jack," she said -laughing, "but where is my horse?" She looked -around, glancing at the little pony-mare we had -saddled for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you'd like to ride the pony-mare -again," said Jim, who stood holding the reins, -"like you useter ride with Mr. Jack," he added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise tossed her head. "No, no; now, Jim, -you may saddle Satan for me. Why, I've been -dreaming of this for months, a chance to show -the splendid fellow and his paces to Jack. I -wouldn't miss it for anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim stood scratching his chin thoughtfully. -"Dat devil horse, he ain't a good horse, this -mohnin', ma'am, 'specially for ladies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jim," she said sternly, "look me in the eye! -What have you been doing to Satan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim grinned apologetically. "I had to ride -him las' night for some med'cine for my sick -chile."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I told you never to ride him, that he -hated the very smell of a negro."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim still grinned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you tried him?" she went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes'um, and he flung me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise laughed. "Served you right. You -know that horse doesn't like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' when I went into the stall to saddle him, -he remembered it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course he did. I told him never to let -you or anyone else ride him—no one but me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That horse," said Aunt Lucretia, as we -followed Eloise to the barn, "is dangerous. I have -been expecting to hear of him killing her. It's -all in his pedigree, Jack; he can't help being mean. -His sire was a rattle-headed but game and iron -horse—fast, but utterly unreliable. You may -remember how fast he was, but would go crazy, -and ran away in a race, running into another horse -and getting a sulky shaft driven through his heart. -All of his colts I ever saw are crazy, fast and -game—but cruelly mean when roused. Still I'm -to blame for this one. I thought Little Sister's -brain and sweet temper might overcome it in the sire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little Sister is his dam, then?" I said, patting -the neck of the mare I was riding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he was foaled the year after you left for -school, and is now three," she answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard Satan before I saw him. He was walking -the length of his halter, now and then neighing, -then whinnying to Eloise softly. It was the -sound of her voice that had softened him. Above -the anger which shook his frame, maddened at -the sight of the groom who had offended him, he -had heard the soothing voice of Eloise, and -responded with a gentle whinny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled. "Just listen to him! Dangerous—he's -an angel! Bring him out, Jim." She -winked at Aunt Lucretia and me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim grinned sillily. "'Scuse me, Miss 'Leeze; -you's jes' sayin' that to guy me. He loves my -leetle boy, an' he feeds him an' keers for 'im," he -added, "but it looks like he thinks I put an -insultment on him. 'Scuse me, Miss Leeze, but I -wouldn't go in there for no money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was true. At the sound of Jim's voice, -Satan's eyes had kindled, and he threw back his -head, trying to break his halter to get to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You try him, Jack," said Eloise; "I'm sure -he loves you. I never knew one that didn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I opened the door. Never had I looked upon -so superb a horse: a great star stood out beneath -the tangled foretop of his mane, on a great square, -broad forehead, so black it was silken. The rest -of him, too, was midnight, except one white satin -foot. His tail was a heavy hemp of black, shiny -silk; his shoulders sloped in the line of strength. -His chest was splendid, his muscles, fore and aft, -bunched above the cleanest of bony legs. There -was great strength, brain, and self-will in his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was watching me keenly, as a wild beast -eyes a new keeper. An animal knows friend or -foe instantly. Their instinct is unerring and -surpasses man's reason. I saw his eyes light up -doubtfully, hesitate, and then gleam when I put -my hands out and rubbed his cheek. "You -splendid fellow; mean? It's not true. Did -Jim put an insultment on you, old boy?" I -laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he rubbed my shoulder with his clean-cut nose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise laughed behind me. "I knew he'd love -you, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Satan came out playing. Rearing, he stood on -two legs like a great boy, showing off before -another. Then he came up, rubbing his nose on my -shoulder and reaching for the apple Eloise had -for him. Meanwhile Aunt Lucretia sat smiling -doubtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saddled him, and when Eloise sprang up they -looked superbly splendid, the horse proud of his -rider.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, we'll go," said Aunt Lucretia, starting off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We turned to go to the left. Satan made two -quick leaps, playfully, as if to follow, and then, -taking the bit he wheeled to the right despite -Eloise's protest. He saw Jim holding the gate -open for us. He wheeled and refused to go -through it; he laid back his ears and quivered with -rage at the sight of the negro.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia stopped. I pulled up sharply. -Eloise sat white with anger on her uncontrollable -mount.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't be angry with him," said Aunt -Lucretia. "You will have to go as he says."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise touched him with her whip and he reared, -leaping high into the air. I caught my breath -when she came down firmly with him. He stood -backing his ears at Jim. Again she urged him, -again he refused. She brought her whip down -sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't, Eloise," I cried, "he's dangerous."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again he leaped high in the air, tossing his -head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise slid down, white with anger. "Jack, -put your saddle on him," she said quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think we'd better," I said. "I'll ride him for -you for a while. It's Jim. He'll never forget him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have a sharp knife?" asked Eloise, after -I had put my saddle on the horse. She took the -reins in her hands. "No, no, I'll hold him. -Don't put my saddle on your mare. Wait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise," said Aunt Lucretia, "you shan't get -up on that horse again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Eloise did not notice her; her lips were set; -her face white. I knew the meaning of old.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," she said quietly, "grasp my skirt at -the hem, petticoat and all, and cut it clean down -from above my knees. Don't listen to Aunt -Lucretia. Please, Jack, it is life and death with -the horse and me. I'd rather die than have him -conquer me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew from her voice that she meant it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grasping her skirts at the hem in an instant I -had ripped them through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now behind," she said; "it's my old riding -skirt, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In an instant it, too, was split.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled, a flash of her old humor behind her -sternness. "Now, turn, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I turned back again she had slipped both -her garters over her divided skirts, so that they -were held firmly to her ankles. The next instant -she was in my saddle, astride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You, dear, sweet, old, stubborn Satan," she -said softly, "I am sorry I must punish you. Shut -the gate, Jim; I am going to make him do his -best stunt to pay for this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the first blow from her whip he sprang up -in anger, but the whip fell fast and with fury. -Her lithe body sat him easily, like a part of him, -her two heels buried in his flanks. He made leap -after leap, but still she sat him, cutting his sides -into whelks. He leaped high to dismount her; -he wheeled suddenly, but never caught her off her -guard. The whip never let up. Frighted, -angry, he bolted for the plank fence. The gate was -shut, but Eloise gave him the whip at every jump.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop her—he'll kill her!" I cried, as I saw -him rise for the leap.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 79%" id="figure-48"> -<span id="stop-herhe-ll-kill-her-i-cried"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""STOP HER—HE'LL KILL HER," I CRIED." src="images/img-118.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"STOP HER—HE'LL KILL HER," I CRIED.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>I expected to see him strike the fence midway, -and come back on her in a heap. Instead I saw -Eloise lift him, with a quick firm hand, straight -up towards the sky and I saw the horse land on -the other side clean, and clear, without losing a -stride. Then they vanished in a whirl of dust -up the pike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll ride after her," I cried to Aunt Lucretia. -"He'll kill her yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't worry," she smiled, "she's more apt -to kill him. But that jump, Jack, that -jump—did you see it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt's eyes were ablaze with a kindled fire. -I had seen it often when a race was on. She -rode up to the fence. "Five feet six, Jack," she -said laughing; "why, the record cross-country is -five feet six—that's the record held by Colonel -Goff's horse—" and she laughed again meaningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was fifteen minutes before we saw Satan -coming back! He came in a gentle canter, his great -head held high in pride, because Eloise was -laughing and joking with him, patting his mane and -calling him sweet names. "You darling Satan," -she cried, as she leaped down, "I did so hate to -punish you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They say horses do not weep, but there were -tears in the eyes of Satan as he rubbed his head -against her breast, and nibbled the apple she held -out to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up the road cantered a horseman in haste, -riding an English hunter. Eloise looked up and -smiled. "I can't go with you to-day, Jack. -Here comes Colonel Goff. I wanted you to see -that jump. Isn't he great? He's done it a dozen -times, and yet Colonel Goff really thinks he owns -the champion." She laughed, her eyes shining. -"I must run in and change my habit for the scolding -I know is coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned sullenly in my saddle and rode off. I -did not wish to see Goff take her away from us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did not enjoy the ride over the farm. The -sick brood mare, with the young colt, which -nickered so distressingly for Aunt Lucretia, alone -excited my sympathy. I was heartsick myself. I -did not even enjoy seeing Tammas and Marget.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we rode away from the dairy we met Elsie -coming down the wooded path, a smile on her -pretty lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That girl," said my Aunt, "is a fine creature, -and do you know, Jack, if I know anything of -breeding, she's got rare blood in her. It shows in -a hundred ways. Now, watch her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was dressed in white, her hair hanging in -two plaits down her back. "I am playing at -being in Scotland," she said as we came up, "and -I have gathered these Scotch wild flowers for -Mr. Jack." She handed them up to me, and when my -eyes met hers in thanks Aunt Lucretia saw the -blush that flushed her face. She looked sharply -at me a moment and then smiled. I walked to -the barn gate, Elsie going with us, and telling me -of the Scotch flowers and trees. "I would be -quite happy here," she said, "if we only had the -heather on these hills."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia turned at the gate. "You must -come up to the house some night this week, and -we'll have a Bobbie Burns evening," said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, thank you," Elsie answered, smiling at -me instead of at Aunt Lucretia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was that you were talking to before we -met you?" I asked. "The gentleman who rode -off when he saw us coming?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was Captain Braxton. He has asked -my hand in marriage, but I dinna think I shall," -she added, with a little sigh. "I dinna like him -as I should, but I dinna say yet, for I shall think -it over. He's noo like Mr. Jack." Her little -Scotch words would slip in now and then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I flushed and looked at Aunt Lucretia, who sat -biting her lips as if in anger. Elsie was all -frankness. She put her hand in mine trustingly, and -instantly I knew why she had told me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No brother could love you more than I do," -I said. "Tammas and Marget raised me, too, -so I'm really your brother." I laughed to hide -my anger at Braxton Bragg and the turn affairs -had taken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had lifted my hand with a loyal little -gesture and pressed it to her cheek before I could -withdraw it. "You'll come to see me, often, -won't you, Mr. Jack? I need you to help me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," I said, smiling at her, "just Jack from -now on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but that's not respectful, and I'd not be -wanting in respect for you for the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll not call you Elsie then, any more," I -answered, "nor make the request of you I'm going -to make."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, then," she said. "And your request—it -is already granted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That you'll not see Braxton Bragg alone until—well, -until I have talked with you," I said earnestly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O—h," and her eyes opened wide. "Jack, -why, of course. If he writes to me again I'll -send the letter to you before I answer it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bring it," I said; "I want to see it right away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We rode back to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," said my aunt, "he is the most -contemptible reversion to a scrub that ever came -from a good pedigree! But if he tries that -game on that child—he has played it recklessly -since you left—I'll kill him myself—damn him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I soon forgot Elsie. I caught sight of Eloise -entertaining Goff in our old bower, and I could -see that as he sat there, smoking and watching her, -he already thought she was the Countess of Carfax.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="two-ways-of-love"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">TWO WAYS OF LOVE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I knew that Colonel Goff would not only stay -the afternoon but the evening also. He had been -doing it ever since the war, for he regarded his -General's home as his also. The assurance of -the man incensed me. The divine right of his old -kings seemed to have been born in him; and now -that he had won Eloise, she and The Home Stretch -and all that it contained were his whenever he -chose to have them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise would tease him in pure wantonness, and -scorn him, and even ridicule him; for all of which -he worshipped her, as is apt to be the way with -men. Yet I very quickly noticed the little touch -of sadness, which, despite her efforts, fell over her -so suddenly. To her wit and repartee, her fun -and humor, his only answer would be flashes of his -fine teeth, and his favorite exclamation, "Fawncy -now, but isn't that a blooming good one?" I -was convinced that he loved Eloise and was proud -of her; but I thought it was such a feeling as he -might have for any beautiful animal, the same -worship he might easily have bestowed upon an -Arab mare of the desert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not long before Colonel Goff and Aunt -Lucretia were in their usual dispute about horses -and he was scolding her for letting Eloise ride -Satan: "Ah, that unregistered fool! Really, my -dear madam, you should not let her go near him, -he'll be the death of her yet. Now, there is my -imported Irish hunter; he's got a head as well -as legs; say now—suppose I just send him over -for her," and he looked at Eloise to see what she -would say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise threw up her fine head significantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The idea, Colonel Goff! Why, I wouldn't -be caught riding him! That big thing better than -Satan! Why His Satanic Majesty can gallop -rings all around him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff laughed. "Fawncy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, fawncy!" said Eloise, mimicking him, -which made him flush again and then look at her -admiringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia broke in. "He can," she said -very firmly. "I wonder, Colonel Goff, why you -should send to England for a horse when you have -better ones at home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff laughed loudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why you even think that bang-tailed son of -Nestor can jump," went on Aunt Lucretia, laying -her trap quietly for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the one strong point of the son of -Nestor, and the one thing about him that his owner -had published on his arrival.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madam," he said with great seriousness, a -bit offended, "madam, I think I told you before -that he held the championship for cross-country -at Melton-Mowbry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, so you did," said my Aunt Lucretia, ever -so sweetly, "and yet I believe Satan can beat him -both at the distance and over the hurdles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Goff laughed, but not as though pleased. He -was too well-bred to reply to Aunt Lucretia in her -kind. So he only tapped his boot, and looked at -Eloise, who smiled sweetly at him, as if urging -him on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was talking the other day to Secretary -Roswick of our State Fair," went on Aunt Lucretia -calmly, "and was entering some of my own things. -Now, Roswick, you know, makes me put up about -half of his programmes. He has asked me to -get up some novelties on the side. We'll just have -a hurdle race if you say so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Capital, capital!" said Goff, for the first time -showing excitement. Then he quieted down -suddenly. "What am I thinking about? What, in -this unregistered country, could go against Nestor, -champion hurdler of his class?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Satan," said Aunt Lucretia, smiling sweetly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fawncy!" shouted the Colonel decisively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll lay you five hundred that he can," said my -Aunt, "and I don't know a thing in the world -about your game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madam," said Goff, quietly, "I have never -taken an unfair advantage of a woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Colonel Goff," said my Aunt very seriously, -"you know as well as you know anything, that if -I know anything it is horses, that I am of age, -and that I am good for all my obligations. I'll -bet you five hundred dollars that Satan will beat -your horse at his own game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know, madam," said Goff, "that a -jumping horse is born to jump? Not one in a -thousand can go over a three-foot hurdle, and this -brute of yours—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Brute?" said Eloise, icily. "Brute, Colonel -Goff, he is an angel! He can do anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you will ride him?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody else can," said my Aunt. "Yes, -she'll ride him and beat you, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take your bet," said he. "I'd give five -hundred dollars to ride once in a race with the -only girl in America who is really English. How -she ever got into this blooming country I can't see!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I left my Aunt and the Colonel arranging their -new game for the Cumberland meeting. I did -not take much interest in Eloise riding against him!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had ordered my horse, intending to ride over -to Ned's; I wanted to see my pets there, Little -Sister, and Captain Skipper and the new arrival. -Eloise followed me through the wood lot. She -came up and slipped her arm through mine, and -its very touch carried a sadness, it seemed as if the -quick electric pulse was gone. In her eyes there -was a weariness, an indefinable longing. It -touched me to see her so, my live, light-hearted, -foster sister of old.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," she sighed, "I am—I am—" She -stopped and looked up into my face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" I asked. "I should think you would -be happy, so soon to marry an Earl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is sooner than you suppose," she said -seriously. "He does not wish it known yet -because the proper notification has not come from -his attorneys in England, but—but—Jack—Jack, -his brother is already dead and he wants me -to marry him. I have already promised to marry -him next month."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew she saw me pale. I could have cursed -myself for the weakness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went on. "When I promised him six -months ago it was all so vague, so far off, and I -was so miserable, Jack—so homeless and -badgered, and dependent, it was all so far off, I -thought—waiting for his brother to die, and -now! You know how these English are, they take -these things so seriously, their marriages and -promises, they are so matter-of-fact about it, and so -consistent: why, Jack, he looks on me already as -his bride. He is just as busy planning for our -future, arranging how the estate is to be remodeled, -what home we are to have, I couldn't get out -of it honorably even—Jack, even if—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Even if you should happen to love me?" I -said, looking very earnestly into her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded, her head dropped low. For the -first time in her life I saw tears in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Jack, I am miserable! It was all so far -off once,—now—only next month,—and you -know I'd die before I'd deceive him—big boy -that he is, and trusting and worshipping me, Jack. -Yes, that is what hurts me—worshipping me as he -does—I couldn't. I couldn't, Jack! If I have -any one strong thing in me, you know it is—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keeping your faith with your friends," said -I. She nodded. "Do you think I am wicked to -marry him this way? Won't you come, in after -years, to despise me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For answer I stooped and kissed her. She put -both her arms around my neck. "Please stay -with me," she cried, "I do so need you. I just -heard it to-day. It was why he came and stayed -so long. Please stay and be with me till he leaves. -Just stay with me, Little Brother, this time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," I said, "this time? Surely he will -resent it. Any man would want this night of all -others to be with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, you don't understand. I am miserable. -That is why I rode Satan as I did. When I put -him at that fence I hoped—it is wicked I -know—but I hoped that he would kill me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was sobbing in my arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise, don't," I said; "let me go. Don't -you know that it is harder on me than it is on -you? Do you think I am made of stone—of -wood—to come home expecting sweetness and -find it all rue—my dreams about you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just to-night, Jack. You'll—you'll laugh at -me when I say why, but, but, you know how punctilious -these Englishmen are, and he thinks I must -kiss him to-night when he goes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt the hot blood rush to my heart. It was -instinct, the reversion of a past ancestor who -fought another man for kissing his wilderness -bride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise, you wouldn't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you'll kiss me again, Jack, as you did just -now. I never felt so before—until—but it -you'll kiss me again—that way, I'll never kiss -him—never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I held her in my arms. I kissed her eyes, which -were moist. I kissed her mouth, and it seemed -as though my soul went into hers; for when, in -desperation, in an exhilaration which was all but -madness I broke away I heard her cry faintly, -"</span><em class="italics">Jack, Jack!</em><span>" ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw her arms around the great fatherly tree, -her head against it.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="work-and-mine-acre"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">WORK AND MINE ACRE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There is but one balm for a heartache, and that -is work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing in all my life had left me so stranded; -had killed so utterly the sweetness of all my dreams -as this giving up of Eloise. And with no dream -there is no life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt that she was lost to me now: if she were -not engaged to Colonel Goff, there was nothing -in me now, I thought bitterly, that could awaken -in her the real love she had never felt for anyone. -Yet with all her spirit, her apparent indifference, -and even recklessness, I knew she had a throne -in her heart of hearts for love on a higher plane -than those who love easily. I knew that only one -side of her had ever been revealed, either to -herself or to the world; that beautiful as she was -there was a yet more beautiful side to her; and -that brave as she was there were yet deeper depths -of bravery within her, a moral bravery which -under the spur of her soul would take another leap, -as far greater than that she took on Satan as the -brave leap of Pegasus over the clouds. I had -known her always. I knew what she did not -know: that I was loving an Eloise that was yet, -and forever would be, an unseen star in an -unknown heaven, above the head of the man who had -never yet learned to look up. Should I sit still and -let him take her, let him do this irreparable wrong -both to himself, and to her and to me? My -heart cowered a moment at the thought of its -hopelessness. Then—how wonderful is the word -of the soul unto the soul, the passed soul to the -passing soul, the absent soul to the present soul,—I -thought of the words of Aunt Lucretia: "What -would Andrew Jackson do, Jack?" Into my soul -came the steel of Andrew Jackson. With the -quickness of the thought came the change. "</span><em class="italics">Aye, -my unseeing old grandsire," I said, "you shall see -whether I am a fighter or not! ... For Eloise.</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From that moment I resolved to fight. God's -blessings on the memory of Andrew Jackson!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I would fight in my own way. For I knew -that Eloise's idea of love was a love of life and -death: she who would ride a mad horse over a -five-foot fence for the conquering instinct of a -mastering nature, what would she not do for -love—</span><em class="italics">her love</em><span>—and she a woman? For let it be -writ both of history and life, 'tis woman at last -who loves. Man knows not love. Even as his -own life came to him the babe of Love and -Passion, so only can he give that unto another. But -she who gave it being, </span><em class="italics">her name was Love</em><span>! -Oh, to win such a love as I knew Eloise would -bring to me; which she herself knew not was -there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I lost my bitterness of it all when it came clear -to me. Before, I had been maddened to think -she would barter this love of hers for title and -wealth and the place it bought. But now I saw -clearly, now I knew that she was blameless, -because never having had that love, she knew not -what she was giving away. Like an Indian -princess, who owned an island of pearls, but did -not know their value, she would give them to the -first foreigner, coming down in ships, for the -baubles of his forecastle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I would show my Princess what her pearls -were worth. I would string them in globes of -beauty around her neck, and brow, and belt, and -I would put my crowning Great Pearl of Sacrifice -into the diadem of her hair, and then I would lead -her down to the sweet glassy sea of her own -unbartered, unbought home, her own sweet kingdom -of kindness and content, and by the still waters, -in God's own groves, I would lead her until her -feet dipped into the mirroring pools, and, kissing -her, bid her look for the first time and behold -Love crowned.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Would she barter herself for baubles then? -Would she not know the difference between pearls -and paste beads? I, yes, happy I, would show it -to her; I would introduce Eloise to herself—Eloise -loveless to Eloise in love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I laughed now in the happiness of my little -conceit. Very distinctly I could hear my Aunt -Lucretia say: "</span><em class="italics">Sure, Jack, that is the way Andrew -Jackson did—took her from the toad who had -deceived her, right out of his arms, and then killed -every other toad who croaked about it. Sure!</em><span>" ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was much for me to do, both of love and -duty. My duty was work, and that came first. -For I had faith both in God and myself, and if I -did my duty and my work, God would give the -rest to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Work—the glory and sweetness of it! And -to find one's work in one's life—that One Work -which fits the One Life: this to me has always -been the greatest gift of the Giver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was so much for me to do. I was the -pioneer of a great truth in the world's greatest -country. In all great causes it is the pioneer who -is the sacrifice, it is he who is held up to contempt -and scorn. Strange that it should be so! That -he who sees first the Great New Truth, the -Blessing that has been withheld because of no one to -see it, the Great Invention uplifting through one -man all men into a new world, that it is he who -must suffer....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hurt does not matter from those who love -us not. I was willing that the herd should think -of me as it would, as its own little light permitted, -but I had that pride of race which every honest -man has, and I wanted the love of my fighting old -grandsire. And he openly despised my profession, -and he secretly despised me. "What's the -use of worrying about making more on an acre of -this rich soil?" he would say. "Ain't The Home -Stretch rich enough? And fiddling about saving -trees—why damn it, ain't there too many of them -already? Didn't I have all the hard work of my -life clearing some of the land, and my father -before me, that it might make us a living!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would never understand me, of course. The -discoverer is never understood, and the forester -falls in the same class, more maligned than any -of them. He would never understand that it was -not a sentimental dream to save trees because they -are trees, but to grow them and harvest them in -the right way, even as wheat is harvested: that -we did not want to see rich acres, the homes of -unborn people, covered only with trees, when the -land was needed for bread, but the unfertile -hillside, and the heads of our water streams. There, -we insisted, trees should remain because that was -Nature's own way of protecting the land from -droughts and floods. Nor could I hope to make -him understand that rich as the land was—even -as a man of genius—it should have a chance to -bring forth all the fruit that was in it. That our -waste was something appalling, our methods -crude, and that our people, with all their plenty, -were only half fed; that while we were rich and -The Home Stretch was a garden, the poor farmers -of the hills and less fertile places were living only -half lives, they and their families, because there -was no one to show them something better.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt I knew was sorry for me; but I could -see she hoped and believed I would yet get over -it. And in my own heart I felt that if I had -chosen West Point, perhaps Eloise—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I flushed, ashamed. How prone our little weak -Self always is to play Arnold with our Soul!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I began at once to work. It is what one does -with one's own acre, not what one preaches should -be done to the acres of others, that convinces his -neighbors at last, and settles the standard of his -life's text among them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I started it on a gullied hillside of The Home -Stretch. These gullies I filled. Young trees were -easy to transplant from the over-crowded growth -of the woodland. Nature is at last her own -greatest doctor. I gave her the soil she had been -begging for, and very quickly she studded it with -little pioneers of the game black locust, to hold -back that which she had, to shadow it with -coolness and damp that grass might grow beneath, -and mold form, and the blistered soil have yet -another chance, and that later the trees might -rear their great heads high, stealing from the -clouds the moisture for the earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My neighbors knew me, had known me from a -boy, and it was not difficult to get them to meet -me at the little schoolhouse once a week and hear -my talk. Now talks all depend upon one's honesty -and earnestness, not on one's brightness; in -a month they became interested and were one with -me. They had always looked upon a forest as -a necessary evil, as a great wood put there to -be cut down, burnt, destroyed, that man might -till the land. Indeed, from their pioneer fathers, -whose greatest burden was clearing the land, there -had come down to them the instinct of forest -hatred, just as had come their instinct of Indian -hatred, bear and wolf and panther hatred. But -at the same time I knew that they had in the -heart of their pedigrees another and sweeter -instinct, and that it came from their forest-loving -Briton and Saxon and even remote Aryan sires, -whose ancestors before them, had long ago gone -through the same fight with the primeval forest, -but whose children after them for a thousand -years, from the North Sea to the Mediterranean, -were forced to go back to tree-planting, to -forest preservation, or die with their soil. It did -not take much to make this forest preserving, -land-preserving, life-preserving instinct outcrop -again among their children here. It was a -revelation to them when I explained that the true -forester was he who assisted the farmer and the -lumberman in rearing more trees and better trees -where they should be, and destroying the -worthless ones, even all of them if need were, where -they should not be. In their prejudice they -thought a forester was a dreamer, an impractical -person, who preached forest preservation from -sentiment, and would let the trees grow where -children ought to grow. I won them all when -I explained that a tree, when ripe, should be -garnered, just as corn or wheat, or any other -product of the soil. But during the years while it -ripens for the saw, the young things beneath it, -which should take its place, must be protected, -and their life preserved in the harvesting of the -ripe trees; or if the land was to be cleared for -tilling, other places on the farm, especially the -unproductive hillside, and the sources of the stream, -should be given over to forestry. This would -save the hillsides from washing and depositing -their flinty soil over the rich valleys below, and -guarding the water head, preserve the springs. -But when the tree is ripe it should be harvested, -unless it stood in some park or yard or town for -a street ornament or shade. If it were in any -of these places it should die in the ripeness of -beautiful old age, a younger one taking its place. -It was not long before I had a class of forestry, -and there was much of the German methods I -had learned in every branch of farming which I -gave them for nothing, that helped me greatly. -It is what one gives for nothing that brings in the -greatest returns at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But my greatest help was in a flood early in -May. The headwaters of the Cumberland lie -in the Appalachian range, that great wooded -mountain strip which mothers the headwaters of -the Ohio, the Tennessee, and the Cumberland, -and so of all the states they water. That long -ridge of wooded slope had been a sponge, the -gauge that controlled the flow from half the -tillable Union. On the Tennessee, the forest had -been brutally butchered, and on the Cumberland -as badly treated. The flood came. There was -but little to hold, and check it, and we had a -deluge such as was never known before. Even -my grandsire, seeing it, admitted what I said. -The seemingly wasted word had fallen as the -drift of the elm tree's shaft had taken root in -a corner of the old field.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-unattainable"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE UNATTAINABLE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>My work took me daily to Tammas's cottage. -There was nothing so restful to me as these two -good people, and their sweetness and cheer, and -Elsie held my interest. I had always been fond -of her, and now that she had grown into this -rare, delicate flower, so sensitively turned, so -romantically original, I found the greatest -pleasure in studying her, and, in humoring her, as -everybody did who came into her sphere. She -commanded obedience as readily as she gave it. -Every day was a different mood, and always a -romance with her. One day she had on a large -white apron, and was helping Tammas with the -churning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am playing a new game, to-day, Jack," she -said, pulling me to a corner of the dairy where -the spring water whirled through the stone -troughs. "You'll laugh when you hear it," she -added, her eyes shining into mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll not," I said, "I'll be more apt to play -with you. What is the game to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed merrily. "Well, to-day I am a -duke's daughter, who was secretly exchanged in -her cradle with the dairyman's baby. Now only -three people know it; the dairyman, who is old, -and about to die; and who is so sorry that he ever -did it, but he did so want his own daughter to -be a lady in the land; and me, whom he has told -at the last minute, and the bad, bold knight, very -dashing, who has bribed the dairyman to tell -him, and who wishes very much to marry me. -But I want to marry my own bonny prince, you see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think he'd be proud and loyally love -his dairymaid bride," I laughed, pinching her -cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Jack, you are so stupid," she said, -pouting. "You don't catch on. I can't play a game -by myself. I want you to play the prince."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tammas stood looking on, his face in its -favorite Scotch grin. "Weel, weel, did ye ever -hear the like o' that, an' it's no' leap-year either!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could see that he was pleased and proud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it is the prince I'll play from now on, -my ane braw lassie," I said, dropping into her -own dialect. "Isn't that what you call them in -Scotch?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' noo," said Tammas, "a' lasses get unco -thrang when their lovers are aboot, to gar them -think they are unco worthy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie laughed and went vigorously to work, -molding butter pounds. I stood watching her -while I talked to Tammas. She was not all a -child. There was a certain queenliness, a quiet -dignity about her that was very attractive. In -her fine-cut face, deep down in her great blue eyes, -in her very poise there was a quiet naturalness, -a pretty aloofness which spoke of reserve forces, -that seemed to soothe me. God only knew how -I needed it!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After an hour with her and Tammas I felt, as -I went down the wooded path, under the great -trees of the dairy lot, as I had when I heard for -the first time, in the deep hours of the night, -the chimes of the bells of Munich. I had not -cared for the service with all its symbols and, -to me, its meaningless metaphors; but I had -loved its music, the great bells which calmed my -soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I wish to join a new church. I am tired of -these which preach. I want to join one where -there is no preaching, no talking, nothing but -music, music which makes you feel God. Why -all this preaching anyway? God and talk do not -go together. Religion is not a science to be -proven, not a thesis to be demonstrated, not a -problem to be solved, but a silent Soul-Force to -be felt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Preachers and priests in their vanity to be -heard, or their zeal to proselyte, or their -over-humanness just to talk, talk, talk, have robbed -the church of half its sweetness and power. Will -they never learn that God's house was made for -God's children and in it they should do as God -does,—be silent and worship? And if there be -a voice to break it, let it be the Voice of that -which is nearest to God on earth—Music.... -It was this feeling that Elsie gave me—of -calmness, of restfulness, of devotion. There are -those who irritate us, and they cannot help it; -there are those who provoke us, anger us, madden -us by their very presence. There are others who -stir us up for trade and money-making; the sound -of whose very voice makes us wish to own land, -or buy stock or build houses; and there are -those—God help them—whose talk, be it ever so -brief, falls over us like an unwholesome thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie read much of romance, and her small -library was choice; but the love-poems of Burns -she knew best of all, and she always read them -to me when I was about to leave, as if she would -hold me longer. Then I would remember them -far into the night and the radiant-faced, spiritual -girl with the deep eyes, reading them. I needed -the restfulness which Elsie's friendship gave. I -needed her sweetness that calmed me, her fresh -friendship that was like a great rose at the window -of my soul. In her utter unseekingness, her -loyal trustfulness, I saw that she did not even -suspect that I loved Eloise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stayed all day at the cottage and she flitted -around with her great white apron on, now and -then calling me her bonny prince, especially if -Tammas and Marget were not around. I -humored her, seeing how much pleasure she took -in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I am your Prince," I said, when I had -her alone in the butter room, "I am going to -call you my Heart's-Ease."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up quickly and a faint blush came -into her face. She did not reply, but busied -herself about the house, while Tammas and I talked -of the new test of Lass o' Lowrie, one of his -cows, which, from five gallons of milk daily was -making three pounds of butter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dae ye ken Mr. Jack, whit's daeing it?" -said the old man. "It's nae ither than the auld -Top Sawyer bluid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie, daintily gowned in a pretty white frock -and for the first time with her hair up in a comical -little Scotch top-knot, walked with me down the -wooded path to the parting of our ways. A -tiny heart's-ease had just thrust out its fragrant -leaves in the rich mold under the trees. She -plucked the leaf, and there was the faintest trace -of a twinkle in her blue eyes as she came up and -pinned it on my lapel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is your heart's-ease, my Prince," she -said slyly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt a flush upon my cheek. She was silent, -and then she said slowly, "Do you know -Mr. Jack—Jack, that I believe every prince at times -has need of a heart's-ease friend, and—and—well, -maids need a prince to help them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked at her quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am your good Knight always if I can help -you, Elsie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She flushed and turned her face aside that I -might not see it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you won't misunderstand?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think I could misunderstand you, -Elsie. I don't think anybody could."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She came up closer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's this, Jack. Sit down here by me. -I have no one I can confide in but you. You -know how kind you have always been to me. -Ever since I was a wee bairn in a strange land. -I can't talk to Tammas about it, but I feel there -is something strange between Colonel Goff and -me. I feel that there is—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I started. She was pale, but went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know, I didn't come here with -them. I didn't come here with them—with my -grandparents; that was so long ago I don't -remember what is back of it. Anyway, soon after -I came I remember Colonel Goff. And do you -know," she went on, "he has been so good to -me that—that I cannot understand it at all—only -I feel when I am with him that I am drawn -to him so! Oh, I have seen so much in him that -others don't see—and when I see him watching -me so closely and saying nothing, it hurts me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not finish, but looked down the path, -up which Colonel Goff, himself, was riding -towards us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie paled and then flushed quickly. He was -smiling at us, his little eyes twinkling kindly. -He gave us a quick military salute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My word, a </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span>, and a bloomin' fool -it is who'd break in on it. Hello, lassie—Jack!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He got down from his horse, shaking hands -with us gravely. I noticed that he was watching -Elsie, and she, knowing it, was reddening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a good guesser, Colonel," I said, -with feigned lightness, for I felt that he was -taking it too seriously, "and pray tell me who -would not like to be with so fine a lassie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at me quickly. "If you mean that, -Jack," he said, in his blunt, unseeing English way, -"here is my hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie broke into a little confused laugh. "The -idea of pinning Mr. Jack down like that," she -said, looking bravely into Goff's eyes. "What -else could he say? Now give me that box of -candy. I see it sticking out of your pocket."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Goff pulled out the box of candy, and catching -her to him, kissed her on the cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is my own lassie, Jack," he said, holding -her an instant in his arms. "I have loved -her since she was so high." He paused. "Well, -perhaps it was because I was an exile in your -country, and she is the Scotch flower I found -blooming here. Eh, lassie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie kissed his cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have been mighty good to me, Colonel -Goff. But go your way. Tammas said he -wanted to see you if you came by -and—well—Mr. Jack and I want some candy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment he looked at us queerly, trying -to smile. He glanced into my eyes, but I met his -squarely and unflinchingly. He was not a man -whose mental action was quick. He saw but one -side of things at a time. I saw that he was -embarrassed in his slow way. Very awkwardly he -left us, going up to Tammas's cottage. Elsie -walked on with me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wind blew her hair around her temples -and the reflection of the blue hills of Scotland was -in her eyes. "This is such an inconsistent world, -Jack," she said after a while. "I can't ever learn -it, and I get so lonely up here with only Tammas -and Marget, I often wish that they would tell -me more of myself. I should so love to know -who my father is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did it ever occur to you that it might not -be at all pleasant for you to know? They love -you and they want you to be happy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paled. "I had never thought of that. I -had never thought of that—oh, why didn't I -think of it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elsie," I said, taking her hand in mine, and -drawing her to me as I had when she was a -child, and I her big brother, "you have no better -friend than I. Tell me what it is that is -troubling you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would hate me, Jack," she said, looking -up quickly into my face with great, earnest -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hate you? Nonsense," and I laughed, -pinching her ear. "Tell me," I pleaded, smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay, bide a wee—bide a wee," she said -abstractedly falling into her childhood's dialect -as she so often did when she forgot. "And -first," she went on, "why, first I'd have to kind -of explain it, Jack; but it is like this now: -suppose one was not satisfied with one's lot and had -those feelings I have been telling you of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And suppose—now this is the worst of it—now -suppose one really loved another—one -found one's soul dream," she paused, blushing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Soul dreams, Elsie, ay, I think I understand," -I said. "I too have them—they are the great, -unattainable things of our life. Do you know -I think that their being unattainable is what -makes them great?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up. "If it is worth so much—this -unattainable thing—why then does it hurt -so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, that's it. It is the things that hurt -which count. 'Our sweetest love is always -sweetest pain,'" I said, quoting the line of a poem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," she said, clasping my arm. "You -have said it, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked at her quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elsie," I said, "you once told me—do you -remember what you said to me and Aunt -Lucretia—about your hand being sought in marriage? -Is it the same person you now speak of?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is Captain Rutherford," she said, her face -drawn tensely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I started, angry, flushed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elsie, this will never do. Do you love him -at all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Jack, not as compared to the other—the -unattainable. Well, I should say about as -the difference between a—well—say a star and -a little firefly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dry, fighting anger clinched my throat and -I could scarcely speak. I could have throttled -Braxton Bragg then!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me, Elsie," I said, controlling my anger -and trying to speak calmly, "tell your big brother all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she was silent, her face turned from me; -at last she said, "It is all so strange, Jack; those -we love, love us not, and those we do not love -want to marry us even if they are not fit to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not fit to hold your shoe, let alone your -heart," I added angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put her hand over my mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have I done wrong? Have I said too much? -Come, I must go. I see the Colonel waiting for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took her by both hands, holding her before -me, for I was strangely worried and I wished to -know—I looked earnestly into her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you love me, Elsie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She blushed crimson. In an instant her arms -were around my neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shamed and stricken with my own thoughtlessness -I tore her arms from me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elsie, forgive me, you don't understand!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In reply she gave me one shamed, hurt look and -fled up the path. I saw Goff waiting for her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="god-and-a-butterfly"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">GOD AND A BUTTERFLY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I saw a race for life the other day. It -occurred in mid-air in a kingdom not of earth—not -of our own; but the air was sweet where -the fight was on, and the fields were green, and -the woods lay calm and soothing beneath, and -the great, kind sun was above.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the pursuit of a golden-winged butterfly, -one of those filmy creatures that is more of sky -than of earth, made of rainbow and a rose, of -light and a lily's blossom. It seemed strange to -me that this beautiful thing, thrown off from the -rim of a rainbow, living on the nectar of a flower, -sleeping on the bosom of a nodding lily and floating -on the breath of a zephyr, so spiritual it was, -should fall under the cruel laws of life, and be -forced to fight for its brief but beautiful existence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Who were its enemies? Two glorious mocking -birds that had sung like spirits from an -heavenly choir around the house all spring and -summer, that had been permitted to live and rear -their young in contentment and happiness and -should have held no grudge against any other -creature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Golden-Wings was in the garden, and he was -content until that which sustained life gave -out—food. Ay, there is the rub! We would all -be angels if it were not for food, we would be -saints but for our stomachs. He had sucked -every flower in his pasture, he must go to -pastures fresh or die. The distance was only a few -hundred yards of air, but he knew that in that air -was death. He thought of it a long time as he -hovered from flower to flower; of life, of his -mate, of death. Had he been all spirit he would -have stayed forever among the flowers, but he -was like all of us, half spirit and half flesh, and -the flesh of him was rebelling and begging for -food. He must go. He rose slowly, and with -uncertain wing, frightened, straight up, every -sense awake, every nerve keyed, his eyes on the -lookout for his enemy. Up, up he rose, quivering, -scared, frightened, then he winged his way -across the ether in a flight which proved to be -for his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mocking bird is a flycatcher, but not an -expert one. Compared with the swallow, the -martin, the crested flycatcher or the bold king -bird he is a poor imitation; but the mocking bird -is also a poet and everything is grist that comes -to the poet's mill, from the grasshopper on the -ground to the butterfly in the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The male bird saw Golden-Wings and gave him -the first heat for his life; up in the air he darted, -circled and swooped. Golden-Wings, terrified, -ducked, dived and escaped. The poet dropped -to a twig in disgust and his mate took up the -fight. Golden-Wings saw her coming and his -heart swelled with fear; he stood quivering in the -air, he knew not which way to turn. She darted -straight and all but caught him; for a moment -in mid-air they whirled, twisted and tumbled, -Golden-Wings, panting and fluttering for a chance -once more for home and love and life, and the -poetess for a morsel to eat. It ended in the -butterfly getting above the bird, which always seemed -to be his tactics, and the latter dropped down in -disgust to her mate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, maddened, they both started after -Golden-Wings, and it looked as if this flight was -to be his last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a terrible chase that the two poets gave -him, the tumbling, darting, circling of the birds -in maddened earnestness. Their wings were -often so close that they fanned him about like -a whiff of gold tissue paper in the wind. Twice -they got above him, dropped and missed! Then -he was lost altogether, and only by watching the -circling of the birds could one guess where he -was. When seen again he had got above his -enemies, and was steadily pursuing his zigzag, -frightened, graceless, paper-fluttering flight for -the distant trees and life!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Luck to you, O Golden-Wings!" I cried. -"For already you have taught me a lesson for -Life. Let us keep </span><em class="italics">above</em><span> our enemies if we would -be safe, not beneath them—for there we are a -prey to their talons, besmirched with dirt; nor on -their level, for there we are no better than they; -but </span><em class="italics">above</em><span> them where they cannot reach us, and -where we may go on to our destiny with only the -sunlight around us and the unseen stars above."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The birds dropped down, baffled, to rest in the -top of a sugar-maple tree. Like all poets, in -losing their game they had lost their temper, and -now between panting and hard breathing they -could be heard quarreling. "It was you," said -the wife, "you conceited thing; it is all your fault! -I had him once if you had let me alone." "Oh, -you had him, did you," sneered the mate; "if -your talents only equaled your tongue you would -be better off!" They almost spat upon each -other; they were beaten and angry and they took -it out that way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Golden-Wings was safe. He was high up in -the air. His very flight was now the flight of -victory. Twenty yards more and he would drop -down into the great splotch of green below where -his wife was waiting him on the blossom of a -wild cherry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was about to cheer him with the silent -approval of true applause when I saw a lightning -bolt of red drop from the jagged bar of the dead -limb of a great oak near by, in the midst of the -forest and high above the weary, yet happy -Golden-Wings. I paled at the sight, for I knew -that no butterfly would ever escape this -new-comer. Even Golden-Wings recognized his fate, -and, paralyzed with fear, stopped his flight in -mid-air in a few yards of his home, and lay -quivering in hopeless fear. Well he might, for -the red and white bolt was a red-headed woodpecker, -a very king in the tribe of the flycatchers. -Often I had seen him poise above an air-bound -moth, then drop like a dead bird in the air and -no moth would be there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hand of the world is against the marauder, -be he bird or man. But they revere the man who -robs by rule.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Straight at Golden-Wings he went. The -race was up. He used the same old tactics: -above the butterfly he soared, then, gauging the -distance from his own great beak to butterfly -beneath he folded his wings and dropped like a -plummet of lead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was out that morning with the twelve gauge, -smokeless shells and seven and a half chilled shot. -It was thieving crow I had come after, thinking -I might get a shot. To the marauder my -thought was as lightning, for when I caught the -first flash of his crimson head, this went distinctly -through my mind: "</span><em class="italics">Nature is Nature even to -tooth and claw, and yet there is that which says -even when a butterfly shall fall. He makes our -lives and marks out our destiny. Sometimes amid -injustice, He calls himself Retribution. And then -He has been known to raise up a man, and a gun, -invent smokeless powder and deadly chilled shot, -give accuracy of aim, and, most wonderful of all, -the Voice of a Purpose to say that harm shall not -happen to a Butterfly.</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no smoke from the report, and so -I distinctly saw Golden-Wings drop joyfully -among the green leaves. But a red marauder lies -in the field where he fell.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="hickories-and-old-hickory"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HICKORIES AND OLD HICKORY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>June, and June as it breaks only over the -Middle Basin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There had been great rains, saturating the -leaves and grasses until they were almost -blackened in their deep greenness. There had -followed, flushing the grass on all the hills around -the Hermitage, the mauve tints of coming dandelions, -followed by the red, white, and blue flags -of the clovers, until across deep valleys and on -distant slopes there was a pale light much like -moonlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had been very busy. There was much for -me to do, and I sought it eagerly, for I wished to -forget and not to see. It is what we fail to forget -that hurts. And so I worked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff, as was his race, had acted -straight-forwardly in the matter of his marriage to Eloise. -Over a month ago he had sought out Aunt -Lucretia and told her frankly that he sought the -hand of her ward in marriage, that he wished to -marry her and take her at once to England. He -said that his brother, the Earl of Carfax, had -died without heirs, and that he inherited the -estate. The family name, he told her, was Goff, -and he had kept it while in America. In the early -fall his attorneys would have every legal provision -complete for his return, and for immediate -occupation of his estate. And he told her with -equal frankness why it could not be done sooner, -that in his younger days he had married out of -his class, and had been blacklisted by his family -for it, especially by his elder brother; that they -had had not only hot words but a stand-up fight -in which he had all but killed, and had really -maimed the older brother for life. "I had to -get out," he said brusquely, "and get out quick. -As it was they tried to disinherit me, but -England's laws are greater than England's men. My -wife was to follow, but she died."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt was a woman of great sense and said -nothing. But I noticed that she thought much, -because she was very silent, and that she grew -suddenly very tender to me. When Eloise had -gone to Washington my Aunt went with her. -Two things happened before they left, which I -remember quite distinctly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt's admiration for the character and -achievements of Andrew Jackson bordered on the -idolatrous. As a boy she would take me often -to the Hermitage, and tell me of the wilderness -giant who lived there. She knew more about -him than anyone I ever met. She understood -the thousand sides of this man's great nature, -from his horse-racing to his religion. In the spot -where he had lived so long there was, of course, -a world of tradition. It came down from lip to -lip. Of these stories my Aunt remembered all. -A few days after Goff had talked with her as -my Aunt and I were going over the grounds she -stopped before the log-cabin in the pasture near -the great spring where Jackson lived before he -built the present Hermitage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," said she, "Andrew Jackson was the -gamest thing God ever gave to humanity, and -the gentlest. It is staggering to think what he -had to overcome to do his life's work. The -fights, the sicknesses, the suffering, the slander, -the insults, the lies, the butcheries they called -battles, starvation, mutinies of his own men, all met -and overcome by one tall, slim, sallow, -pain-wracked man, on one thoroughbred horse, with -a gun in his hand, and two in his eyes. Talk -of Indian fights—Mills, and Cooks and Custers—they -were child's play to the great Creek Nation -Jackson had to fight. And England behind -them—selfish always and forever wanting that -of others."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at me quickly, and went on: "But -he waited and then hit them hard. No one, from -Hannibal to Cæsar and Bonaparte, would ever -have attacked Keane and his troops, just landed -and in an open plain with New Orleans at their -mercy before them, in the night-time as did -Jackson and his ragged, half-armed militia. No one -would ever have risked it but Jackson; he was -greater than them all! For that seemingly -foolhardy night attack saved him. He cut the very -vitals out of them in the dark. He hacked them -as a game cock does when he sticks his gaffs into -the very heart of his foe. That was why on -January eighth they could not go over his -breastworks, even with the combined force of -Packenham and Gibbs and the troops that afterwards -won Waterloo. He had gaffed them in the ditch -in the dark. He cut them into giblets. It was -hell with the lid on. They say it was a useless -battle, but they lie, Jack. If Jackson hadn't -stopped them, they would never have given up -the Louisiana Purchase until we drove them out -with another war. There are two kinds of men, -Jack—talkers and doers. The talkers are -all orators—they are all liars. They began -with Aaron, whom God made a mouthpiece to -Moses. Moses was the doer, but he could not -talk. Aaron, the orator, talked for him, but it -is Moses who lives. Jackson was a Moses, Clay -an Aaron, a dead one, Jack, as all Aarons are, -and growing deader every year. All orators, -being liars, fool people while they live. Dead, they -do not even fool themselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Clay and Crawford who let the British -make that treaty of December twenty-fourth in -which they said that they would not be bound by -Bonaparte's constructions. At that time Lord -Castlereagh had every reason to believe that -Packenham, sent out November twenty-fourth, -with the best army and navy that ever left -Portsmouth for a foreign shore, had taken the 'crown -colony of Louisiana,' as they called it. And under -that treaty they would have held it. It was Jackson -who stopped them, just one day before that treaty -was signed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Clay is dead," she said laconically; "he -ought to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They wanted New Orleans, and they wanted -it bad. 'Booty and Beauty' was the word they -passed down the line when they landed and -started across the Chalmette plain, to take the -fair Creole City. They were going to take her -and then rape her as they did the cities of Spain, -and they would if Jackson had not gaffed their -very vitals out in that night attack of December -twenty-third."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned suddenly on me, her eyes ablaze. -"Do you think, Jack, if he had loved a girl and -an Englishman wanted her bad enough to take -her right out of his arms that he would have -given her up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked up quickly and her face flushed with -fighting fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he was the tenderest, Jack," she went on -calmly. "Old Parton tells a pretty story about -him. One bitter, sleeting March day, an early -lamb had all but died in the field here, and his -little adopted grandchild, a tot of four, found the -lamb and cried for it; and so Jackson brought -them both to the house, and by the fire; and to -comfort the child he took them both into his arms -and so sat here, before this great hearth, holding -them both in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He, who had killed bad men as he had dogs, -who had cut to death the pick of the army that -later won Waterloo, he sat coddling a lamb and -a child and thinking of his dead wife, and she,—oh, -Jack, I all but shed tears when I think of -it! The night she died, and he would not have it -so, but lay all night beside her, holding her in his -arms, and trying to get her warm again, with the -great love of his own great heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were tears in Aunt Lucretia's eyes. Oh, -the depths of her stern heart! It is like the -mountain capped with snow. But when the snow -melts and the flowers come up among the crannied -rocks there are no flowers in the valleys below that -equal them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other recollection was of Eloise. It was -the night before she left for Washington. Colonel -Goff, who had spent the evening with her, had -ridden off. I, pretending to work, was really -listening for her footstep, as she came back to her -room up the great steps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," she said, standing just outside the -window, "come." And she beckoned to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We sat down under the wisteria vine, which -grew over the porch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," she said, "I want you to do me one -favor. No one loves Satan here but you and me. -Won't you take care of him while I am gone? -Ride him whenever you can, the harder the -better, for he is made of iron and needs it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He and I are good friends," I said. "I -have ridden him daily. We understand each -other," I added softly; "we both love you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Jack," her hand was instantly in mine in -the old way, "in after years you won't think evil -of me for selling myself this way, will you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, no," I said seriously. "I have been -thinking of it, and all life is just a barter and -trade."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw her face in the starlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've no right to make you wretched like this, -Jack," she said, rising. "I am going in; and -when I return do you be gone Jack, -somewhere—anywhere." Her voice trembled. She stood -quiet, and I by her, dazed and helpless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is one thing I am going to take to -England with me, Jack," and she pulled out from -beneath her gown yoke, a little token I had -forgotten. I recognized the locket and the chain I -had given her years ago. "And this little picture -in it is you, Jack. You gave them both to me the -day I helped you lick Braxton Bragg."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she turned quickly and left me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," said my Aunt, as we parted the next -day at the station, "I am afraid things are all -against us. Father, I see, is going to will The -Home Stretch to Braxton Bragg. If I were you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have already done it," I said. "I am -going to move to-day to Dr. Gottlieb's; there I shall -work out my plans."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt smiled grimly. "I want you to -remember one thing when I am gone. Don't give -up—remember Old Hickory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked up at her quickly. I saw something -in her eye that gave me heart again. I bade her -good-by. I dared not say it to Eloise. I slipped -away, but I watched the train of cars die away -behind the trail of smoke in the distance as I rode -back home, and it seemed as if my whole afterlife -lay clouded in that path of smoke. It was -hard to give up my home, the old home, every -tree I knew, and with them Eloise and my life-dream....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One's dream and one's home—what else is -there which grips so the very tendrils of one's soul. -To give up one cuts deeply into the roots of the -heart, but when the blow is doubled, there is only -one thing that can make one stand upright and not -fall, and that is the Spirit Within. People have -different ideas of God as their souls reveal. It -runs all the way from the pitiable, crude, faint -conception which comes to the savage in cloud, a -sun, or star or image of stone, to the higher mind -which perceives Him in the Great Spirit of the -Universe. None of these is my idea of God. I -have never been able to dissociate God from my -own self. I have never been able to conceive of -Him as apart from me.... And not always -the same, but always there.... In my -meaner self so little of Him is there, so tiny a spot -of the divine light ... so faint, so seemingly -nothing. And this is the greatest of it—this -is the test—the very divinest evidence. -</span><em class="italics">He is always there</em><span>; and when a blow comes, -humbling the material, the meaner of me, then He -claims His own—my nobler self—taking it unto -His care, flooding it with His presence. It is -then, searching yourself and your own heart that -you find Him—that you know that you are a -part of God because He is there!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Riding home it all swept over me so. In my -innermost soul I knew it: like a flash came the -inspiration of it, the old Prophet of Deuteronomy: -"</span><em class="italics">As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over -her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh -them, beareth them on her wings.</em><span>" Did God -mean in this, the wrecking of my nest, that I -should fly—even as a young eagle?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And remember Satan, Jack, to keep him fit," -I heard Eloise's voice say.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="heart-s-ease"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HEART'S-EASE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Never was there a quieter, better place to work -than at Dr. Gottlieb's, whither I had gone after -Aunt Lucretia and Eloise had left. In a short -while I had become reconciled, in my hard work, -to my lot; for to live with Dr. Gottlieb meant to -work, to classify, to probe into things, and this -meant to put aside all else, even for awhile one's -heart's trouble for the hard mental strain of it. I -remember those study nights well and with such -pleasure. I can recall the little quiet man with -his books, his abstraction, his quaint comments, the -learned deductions that fell now and then from -his lips as if he were unconscious that he was -speaking. From studying the pollen of a flower -he would look up abstractedly and drawl, "</span><em class="italics">Ah, -Jack; and Miss Lucretia—that most beautiful -and charming of women! Did I ever tell you -that each of us has our prototype in a plant? -And how much to my mind—ah, Jack, and to -my heart, how much she resembles the beautiful -red wood lily!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would put down his book, and look longingly -out over the hills. It was the only foolish -thing he ever did, I thought, and so I forgave him, -knowing that each of us has at least one foolish -thought within us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He always had a smile for me; often he would -walk around all the evening thinking abstractedly, -or puttering among his books and plants and -geographical specimens, and then start into real work -at midnight. And I would work with him; for, -besides studying my forestry, I was carrying on -some experiments, testing the various effects of -fertilizers on the soil of The Home Stretch. -Dr. Gottlieb would say: "It is not the time, it is the -inspiration, Jack; catch it when it comes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Exercising Satan daily as I did, I became as -attached to the great game fellow as did he to me. -He was a singular horse, of a type entirely his own. -The harder the ride, the more difficult the feat, -the stubborner, gamer he grew. Not every horse -is an individual, in fact few are; they are horses -merely. But Satan was one, almost human in his -idiosyncrasies. If he had been a man he would -have been one of the world's leaders. There was -nothing he would not do for me after he learned -to love me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even in my heartache, in my despair at giving -up Eloise, I thought often of Elsie; for, having -known her since she was a tot of three years, -when she came to live with Tammas and Marget, -riding her, a wee girl in front of me on my pony, -going with her, a little maid, over the hills to -hunt for some Scotch flowers, I had that attachment -for her that one has for a little sister. She -had developed far more beautifully than I had -dreamed of, both spiritually and in body; for the -connection between them at last is the same. I -had never thought before that there was any -mystery about Elsie. Tammas and Marget, with -all their apparent frankness, had the greatest -inherited trait of their race, a shrewd secretiveness -when it was best. Heretofore I had thought of -Elsie only as their orphaned grandchild. I -supposed her father was some sturdy Scotchman of -their own class, who, perhaps, died after his wife, -or, if alive, had given her to her grandparents. -But now I saw differently; perhaps her beauty, -and the romantic turn events had taken; the -Juliet outpouring of her own exquisite nature had -touched in me some subtle instinct.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was this affair of Braxton Bragg which -worried me most of all. I had not seen him since I -returned. I did not want to. There are those -born into our lives who seem always to oppose, -thwart, counteract what we do. Braxton Bragg -had played this part in my life. I could not -escape him, try as I would. Even when I was in -Germany, with an ocean between us, had he not -cheated me of my own birthright? He was with -his company in the city of Nashville, where the -Tennessee troops were mobilized for the war. -They expected orders to sail for the Philippines -any day. All his life Braxton Bragg, weak as he -was in character and mind, with that conceit which -often goes with weakness, had really believed -that, after he had acquired The Home Stretch, or -a greater military reputation in the army, he would -marry Eloise. All his life he had openly -proclaimed it. His mentality was not great, and he -had not yet learned that in real love monies, -farms, reputation, fame, are the least that count.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Goff had won her. Braxton Bragg now knew -that. Goff had always befriended him, and bore -with him more than anyone else. Goff had -confided in him and trusted him. Braxton Bragg -was as immoral as he was weak. Therefore I -reasoned this matter lay in one of two ways. -Either he was recklessly scheming to deceive and -ruin Elsie, or else he had found out something -that none of us knew and was scheming to marry -her on account of it. Besides deceiving my -grandsire, as he had all his life, I now learned -that he had further deceived him:—that, -graduating from West Point, he had been appointed -to the army, but even before he went on duty, he -had been caught in an act unbecoming a soldier -and gentleman, and to escape courtmartial had -resigned. My grandfather's influence had saved -him and got him elected captain of a company -which my grandsire had himself raised and -equipped for the war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Absorbed in my own affairs, numbed by the -wreckage which had come to my soul's dream, I -had neglected Elsie of late. When I realized it, -and what it meant to a sensitive nature such as -hers, I went over at once, fearing that, since our -last meeting she might have misunderstood my -absence, and brooded over imaginary wrongs to -her own hurt. I found it was high time when I -learned the real situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tammas met me, his face weary; for the first -time in all our greetings with no broad smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tammas," I said, "where is Elsie? I want -to see her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Mr. Jack," said he, taking off his big -butter apron; "we'll gang ben into Marget's room, -for we baith want to talk to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I found Marget quite as troubled as Tammas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel that I've been neglecting you," I said, -trying to talk cheerfully, "but—I have—there -have been great changes in my life—I have gone -to live with—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, we ken aboot it," said Marget, "and -though we didna understand, we thocht ye'd come -ower in your ain guid time to tell us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If we can help you, Mr. Jack," began -Tammas quietly, "we will be glad to do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, good friends," I said, taking his -hand. "I can't explain it all now; only this," I -went on, forcing a smile that I did not feel, "there -has been scheming against me all around, everywhere, -since I left home, and—well," I smiled, -"I've been turned out of home, and—and—everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marget's eyes flashed: "They'll no' turn ye oot -o' onything," she cried hotly, "no' as long as we're -here, Tammas an' me. Ye'll jist come ower and -bide wi' us. Here's your room, Mr. Jack. An' -Tammas an' me—we love ye as much as we dae -oor ain bairn. I ken fine wha it is. Tammas, -didna I tell ye? It's juist that Braxton Bragg! -He's been plotting against ye ever since he was a -wee bairn, an' ye're no' the only one that he's -mistreating; an' it breaks ma heart to think that ony -man in this country whaur we and oor lassie hae -lived so correctly, should be sae bold as to write -this, an' it's been wanting to see ye we have, an' -to show it to ye. Ye are a' we hae to protect her, -Jack; we are truthful folks, an' oor lassie is a -sweet and pure lass, that has been a' her life here -in this valley, like as to ony lily in it, an' we dinna -think she should be insulted by the like o' that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had taken a note from her bosom and -handed it to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haud on a wee, afore ye read it," said Tammas. -"Afore ye cam' hame," he went on, "I -didna like his attention to oor lassie, an' the -untoward way he had o' trying to meet her secretly -gin she but gaed oot o' oor sicht, an' ye ken -Mr. Jack, hoo fond she was since a bairn, to hunt -flo'ers an' birds on the hills aroun'. Sae very -frankly I gaed to him, as I thocht it my duty to -do, an I tell't him we had oor ain plans for the -lassie, an that he was in anither class frae her, -an' any attention he showed her wad be to the -hurt o' the lassie, an' it wad be maist unbecoming -in him as a gentleman to persist. Eh, but it -maddened me to hear him explain and pass it a' aff -as a joke, an' the flattery o' him fair scunnert me, -it did. But for a' I said till him he didna stop -it, but kept dogging the steps o' the lassie an' -writing her love notes. Sae I gaed till him again -an' maist pintedly I made him understaun', that -I wad appeal to his grandfaither for protection. -I am a man of peace, but this maitter has reached -its leemit, an' noo we're gaun to turn it ower to -you. Marget an' masel' hae thocht it a' oot, -because if ever Elsie had a brither it's oor Jack," he -added. "There's only ae thing mair I'll be -asking ye afore ye act, an' it's jist this, that seeing -the matter's sae delicate an' talking aboot it micht -injure oor lassie, I'll jist ask ye to consult wi' -Colonel Goff in the maitter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, an' ae day ye'll ken the reason," said -Marget very quietly, nodding approval to -Tammas's remarks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I never was so angry as when I read the letter. -I was fighting mad, no other word will do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is Elsie?" I asked, controlling myself. -"I must talk with our little lassie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Weel, ye see," said Marget, "Jack, I dinna -ken. The puir bairn is a' but crushed—she's -just like a lily that has grown a' simmer in the -valley, an' opens for the first time ae morning -to find there's such a thing in God's worl' as rain -an' hail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tammas came up to me whispering quietly. -"We maun tell ye this, Mr. Jack, it's only fair -that ye should ken. We hae keepit' oor ain -counsel a' these years about oor lassie, an' that which -we wad like ye to ken aboot her Colonel Goff will -tell ye. But this ye maun ken, there is behind -her on her faither's side that verra intensity of -nature so highly keyed for joy or sorrow, that it -has sent mony o' her forbears amang the gentle -leddies o' her hoose to early deaths, even to -taking their ain lives. Ay, Elsie is jist sae like her -faither's sister, the bonnie ane that suicided for -love. Eh, but oor hearts are wae aboot oor -bairn. She's shut hersel' in her room a' day, but -jist afore ye cam' she gaed off to the wood ower -yonder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, if there's ony ane in this worl' that -can help us it's you, as I said to Tammas afore -ye cam'. The Lord be thankit for your coming!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but the lassie;—Mr. Jack, would you -let them that raised you be plain to your face as -becomes honest folks with those they love?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded. "Then Elsie cares na' a bawbee -for this bold rascallion—it's you she loves, -Mr. Jack, an' wi' a' respect and deference for so -delicate a thing, you'll sune ken that ye hae the love -o' a lassie wham the highest in England and -Scotland wad be prood to mate wi'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first I could not find her. She was hidden -in her favorite place, a natural arbor of low -dogwoods overgrown with a beautiful root of tangled -wild-grape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was never before more calm, for the seriousness -of it all was on me. Not only was her own -reputation, her future happiness and life at stake, -but that of others also. The hint given me by -Marget made things clear. If I ever needed tact -I needed it now. I was ready for any concession -to save her from the position she was in, even to -forget Eloise, if I could.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I decided that it was best that she should not -know that I knew anything. My first glance -showed me how seriously she was taking her -trouble. I had never seen such sorrow in her eyes, -eyes which now fought defiantly the gloom that -was settling in them, as a child's when it knows -for the first time its mother has died.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I sat down beside her, and without speaking -drew her to me. "My little Heart's-Ease," I -said, "you'll let your prince help you?" I let -her cry on my shoulder until she cared to -talk—stroking her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you had forgotten me," she said. -"Where have you been so long?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I had much to do—to think about—that -needed doing quickly. First I had to move -and get settled. I live with Dr. Gottlieb -now—well—it is a long story, but I'm—I have no -home now, Heart's-Ease."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shall live with us if you wish—if you -will—Tammas and Marget and me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I laughed boyishly. "I will if it comes to a rub."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so glad you've come. I have been so -troubled, Jack. Just before you came I was -sitting here, and I thought I saw Ophelia in that -pool down there where the spring branch goes into -the deep hole under the willows, like my picture -in Shakespeare."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," I said, drawing her to me. "Tell -me what you ate for supper last night? I believe -you are in love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned white, and her lips were drawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one loves me," she said, and she blushed -crimson, "no one in the right way. It is just -like Ophelia, and so I was thinking—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one shall love you any other way," I said, -"unless they first reckon with me, for I love -you," I added tenderly, for I pitied her so -much.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up, smiling through her tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then both of her arms were around my neck. -"Jack, Jack!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hands were in mine: her eyes, looking up -to mine, had tears in them. I saw that she had -misunderstood, but I saw that if I were to save -her I must save her through love. I felt the hot -blood rush, for very shame, into my face, stinging -it red for punishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgive me, Elsie," I began, my throat choked -with shame, "I can't explain, I didn't—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For answer she kissed me, both arms around -my neck, as she said, "Oh, I am so happy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was silent, her hands in mine. They -burned me, yet to turn them loose, to tell her -truthfully, and she keyed so to the sensitiveness and -unthinking romance—I thought of the pool and -Ophelia.... She laughed happily: "Tell -me, Jack, your Elsie, when did you find that you -loved me so? Was it because of my thoughts of -you in the horror and folly of my flirtation with -Braxton Bragg?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind," I said; "you are never to -mention that name to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Jack," she hid her face on my bosom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not to speak of anything disagreeable. -Only we'll just love each other, Elsie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, please, please, just let me tell you a -little, so that you will always understand me—your -silly Heart's-Ease. It was this way, Jack: suppose -now, suppose you were placed this way—that -you were very lonely—always had lived in a -cabin, and so much you wished to see the world—that -in you was a strange, queer longing, a feeling -that you had been born for higher things—and—all -at once right out of the sky—that which -you longed for came—the star of your soul."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hid her head on my arm. She was weeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on, child," I said; "I am listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he—he would not tell you he was your -prince; then you felt that strange feeling again, -only worse—to go away—to leave yourself—well, -then another comes—I do not know, only -he did—I had only seen him twice, and each time -he was very kind, but so fulsome and so bold, that -well—I would not meet him again and so he -wrote...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was silent for a moment and then she spoke -suddenly. "Oh, I fear I did wrong to see the -other—to answer his note. I was so unhappy -then—so wretched then, for I did not know -that—that—you loved me—then!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elsie, promise me—" I began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please don't, Jack, dear Jack, it is all right -now. I have written him already. I wrote him -I'd never see him again and never to write me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if he does, will you tell me, turn his note -over to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed. "Why, Jack, of course I will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The setting sunlight streamed on her hair till -it looked like banked western clouds. The very -skies of Heaven were in her eyes, and her dignity -and poise were like a queen's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took off the heart's-ease she had pinned on -my coat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't need this now, my sweet prince."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't, Elsie," I said; "my God, I can't -explain, but, child—I need it now more than I -ever did in my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment she looked at me with pretended -offended eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, I see; but you shall have me when -you will, and you will need it, my bonny prince, -until I am there," and she pinned it back between -hot flushes and tears. "And you will see me soon, -Jack, right here in our sweet trysting place?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by," she said in time. "You will see -me soon, Jack?" Then taking my hand before -I could prevent, she pressed it to her bosom, -kissing it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elsie, Elsie, don't—I would die to save you -pain! I would die to save you pain! Don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so happy. Good-by, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elsie!" I called. "Oh, you misunderstood -me—you don't understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she only laughed back gladly as a child -would, throwing kisses to me as she ran like the -doe of her own heather up the hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw Marget and Tammas at the door, smiling; -and I knew that they saw Elsie's happiness.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="lady-carfax"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"LADY CARFAX"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I knew that I must save Elsie from the false, -unthinking fate her own romantic nature and -Braxton Bragg's infamy might thrust upon her. -I loved Elsie as my own sister and knew that now -I stood in a false position toward her. Once as -I strode home in the gathering darkness I was -tempted to turn back. I would right myself. I -could not stand my false position even until -to-morrow. I had but a few days to act. Elsie had -gone home happy—I, miserable—hating myself. -Always before me was the glad smile I saw -on Tammas' and Marget's faces as Elsie went up -the path—the smile of hopes fulfilled, of Elsie -safe, of a great wish come to pass.... How -they stabbed me now—Elsie's words: "You -shall have me when you will, your Heart's-Ease."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet if I did? Great God! I might be a -murderer! I saw how much Elsie was like -Ophelia. I saw it all: the pale, conscience-stricken, -helpless little soul, the proud spirit -scorned, the unthinking creature, of romance and -of hopes destroyed. The deep pool in the valley -might hide her in its waters before another day. -So I went on, choosing what seemed to be the -lesser of two wrongs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I rode Satan over to The Manor after supper -I thought of all my past life in which Braxton -Bragg had figured. I remembered him first as a -large, bullying, overgrown boy, three years older -and much larger than I. I remembered his small, -bullet-shaped head, the fat, heavy jowls, the short -neck, and the loud laugh. From the first he had -teased and derided me. I did not understand it -then, but it was plain now. Young as he was, -he had set his plans to work to discredit me with -my grandsire; to own The Home Stretch himself, -and to win Eloise. The conceit of him! Only -one great thing Braxton Bragg had in him, -his aim. That was something to his credit: but -without brain and heart behind it, of what availed -the aim? He was like a wharf-rat, stealing on -board a man-of-war, to shoot a thirteen-inch gun -at the moon! He had never been a boy, a real -playmate to me. He had always been cruel to -the little negroes around us, and to dumb animals, -and in everything he had been a coward and a -bully. I had never taken his designs on Eloise -seriously, nor had she. Yet his persistency was -notable, even up to now, when her engagement to -Colonel Goff had been announced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Braxton Bragg, I decided, meant to deceive -Elsie, to play with her, this little creature of fun -and love, this pure little flower that was as much -of The Home Stretch as the flowers on the hills, -the locust blossoms that perfumed all the air in -spring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had beaten me out of my birthright by -deceit and make-believe. I could stand that. I -could make my own Home Stretch, as every man -must make his, whether he will it or not, if he -and his home shall ever become two halves that -make one. And he must make it by work of heart -as well as of brain and of body if he hold it truly: -for God is inexorable, and His law of possession -is: </span><em class="italics">if you have not earned it, you shall not hold it</em><span>! -In vain do men subterfuge with that law, by gifts, -inheritance, entail, by trustees and trusts; -shambling along they may go a generation: then God -and His Higher Court decrees, and the little -tenants by courtesy pass out. The little mice who -have not the love of it, which has been born of -labor, the pride of it begot of sacrifices given, find -themselves food in the claws of the great eagles -which work and dare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This last act of Braxton Bragg roused me to -an anger I had never felt before in all my life. I -had always been for quietness and peace. I did -not know it then, but I know now that there are -Three of me—Me, Myself, and my Soul—which -are almost as distinct one from another as -three separate personalities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In grief and despair, in times of crisis only, do -we see them most distinctly; or, after a sweet sleep -at night you do not quite waken in the morning, -they are then all so plainly distinct: there is -Me—the carnal one, selfish one, the animal one: the -lowest: and there is Myself, that is part of both, that -would be spiritual, would be good, only that not -always may it be. And highest and loftiest, and -altogether greatest, and incomprehensible, and -exclusive, standing alone, and aloof above Me -and Myself, the Supreme Judge of the others, -and the final arbiter of all their little efforts and -aims is I, the Spiritual, God-given small, -silent-voiced I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It governs, controls, is king.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Me—is a man merely: given to eating and -drinking, to stomach troubles and pills; to -subterfuges and make-believes; to vacillations—changes: -to thinking this one day and that another—full -of policies and conceits and deceits; of -whims and caprices: changeable; consistent only in -one thing that it is always animal, deceiving its -own self all the time, and Myself half the time, but -deceiving </span><em class="italics">I—never</em><span>!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I only smiles, and lets the other two go on till -they need the judgment and the whip—then they -get them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>ME—a miserable, little animal that came from -the fishes, or perhaps what is left of my anthropoid -ancestors, full of fun one day and to-morrow a lion -full of fight, always an animal, sensual; money-getting, -love-getting, land-getting, place-getting, -fame-getting—always and forever, with an eye -out for ME and My Chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>ME—a thing with a liver and two legs—Me! -And above that is the second Me, Myself—half -spirit and half flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is this that weeps, laughs or curses the acts -of the First, yet has no power to change them; it -can arrest him somewhat, haul him up a little -while before the court—a kind of a police officer -for a brief trial—but only the Supreme Judge—only -</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> may pass the act that stops him. When the -First has groveled in the dust of things, it is This -that fights back with the spirit's disgust, giving due -notice to the flesh that it is not all supreme, not all -in all, that there is really something else, -somewhere, somehow, or else we would not have -sorrow after sin, penitence after pain, fear after a -fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>MYSELF, my little soul—a half-bred mongrel -Compromising Thing it is—a bird with gills and -a bladder, a chrysalis that has yet to burst and be -a butterfly; a tadpole with a tail unshed, which -one day may be dropped in that metamorphosis to -a higher state and yet more likely to die a tadpole!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then there is I, the still, small, silent I. -ME, it talks, and struts and brags; and MYSELF -and its little soul is full of whines and little -pretenses, of platitudes to Men and Things. But I—it -never speaks, never sleeps, never compromises, -but always commands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It exercises its authority as it is needed in great -sorrows, or the great crises of the other little lives. -And it comes sweetest and clearest (which is proof -positive that it exists) before even the others are -awake, in the first dawn of day, or in the still -night watches of dreams; and it fairly crushes you -with the sweetness of its presence, in that quiet -kingdom through which you loiter, and then pass -through—that Kingdom between the Dawn and -the Daylight. Suddenly we awake enough to -know that we are there—</span><em class="italics">It</em><span> is there—in another -world—painfully, awfully, preciously there. -Then we see how truly Me and Myself—my -little body of ME may die and pass away, and be as -naught—but that </span><em class="italics">I</em><span>, the still, small, silent I of -Me has come from Æons to go on to Eternities; -and after all the little plans of me, and the -braggart, </span><em class="italics">this I will do and that I will not do of Me, -this I will be and that I will not be of Me</em><span>, and -after all my resolves and final decisions, and my -well-laid plans of Me—</span><em class="italics">I</em><span>, the kingly </span><em class="italics">I of Me</em><span> -has only to appear, sitting silent as a burning flame -in the throne room of my soul, and all My's plans -both of doing and being, and all of my soul's -resolve of purpose—the great decisions of my very -soul—become as slaves to fall down before and -crawl to do its bidding! ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Braxton Bragg's perfidy had aroused me to an -anger that I had never known before: I had -been a quiet boy, I loved not strife, "</span><em class="italics">Oh, he won't -fight, not one of them will,</em><span>" I caught myself -mimicking my grandsire, and in hot forgetfulness, I -struck the big horse I was riding with a quick touch -of my heel—I was almost unseated with the leap -he made.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Steady, quiet, forgive me, old boy!" I cried, -stroking his crest to calmness—"that only means -I see things differently; that in this little world our -ethics is one thing, our little religions, laws, our -civilization is one thing, and God and His laws -are another. One says if he smite you, turn your -other cheek; the other says, if he strike you, strike -back harder. One says peace—the other says -it is war, even in the name of peace; one says -Justice and her scales, the other says the Eagle and -the Battleship. There is a time in every honest -man's life when he must fight or die. Satan, old -boy, I am going to fight awhile!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was lusty and twenty—ME.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I pondered as I rode over to see Colonel -Goff. I found him in the library of The Manor, -and was soon seated with him. I noticed the -sterling beauty of the furniture, the trophies of -the chase, both in India and America, and a full -portrait of Eloise over the mantel. I had been -a boy to Colonel Goff until my return. Now I -imagined that my sudden change into a full-grown -man had never quite come home to him, -remembering me only as he had known me last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have given me an unexpected pleasure, -my boy," he said with a touch of cordiality in his -voice. "I have been beastly lonely since Eloise -left." He eyed me through his half-closed lids -as he lighted a cigar and watched me light mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I flushed, and I fear he noticed it. Then I -broke abruptly into my subject. "It is your help -and advice I want to-night, sir. I have come to -talk of Elsie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at me surprised, holding a half-lit -match in his finger. Instantly the match was -snuffed out with a sudden twist and a smile broke -over his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's all right, Jack," he said warmly; "I -think I can guess—I have seen for a month that -you have cut me out—all of us—why—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear you are mistaken, Colonel Goff," I said -quietly. "I know how much you think of her, -that you are her friend, and I thought the two -of us together might help her out of an -unfortunate affair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned on me quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, what has happened? I saw her -to-day; she was all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing has happened yet," I said; "nor -is it likely to now, since I am going to do some -acting myself, with your help."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I handed him the note. I had heard my old -grandsire say that in critical places Goff was always -coolest. He smoked while he read, not a muscle -moving.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This thing is so out of all our English ideas -of sense and decency, and so unusual, that I'm lost -in it," he said quietly at last. "It seems that he -has actually induced my romantic little girl to -agree to a secret clandestine marriage with him, -and his regiment leaves for the Philippines -to-morrow, marry her secretly, and claim her when -he comes back!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instead of being angry Goff laughed, half -ironically but with intent behind it. He rose and -walked to the door, calling his butler. "Tell -James to saddle my horse at once," I heard him -say. Then he closed the door and came up to -me. "Jack, this is the damnedest piece of -blackguardism I ever had to kick out of my mind; -we'll settle it in a jiffy with him,—just as I'd kick -a little cur out of my pack of running hounds. -You'll ride with me, of course, and witness it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will, Colonel Goff," I said sullenly, "if -you'll let me do it in my own way. It is I who -want you to witness it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He slapped me on the shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're all right, Jack, I've always known -that: and if it is nothing rash—you see if it were, -why, the child would be talked about. Oh, yes, -damn him, if it wasn't for her I'd kill him myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Colonel Goff," I said rising, "I'm going to -thrash him to-night before I go to bed. I'm going -to do it in my own way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed outright and grasped my hand. -"You must not," he said, "and I will tell you -why; you've earned it. This is my great secret. -I've seen all along that you have loved her—and, -well, it's plain she loves you. But I see through -this affair much further than you because you don't -know. I'll tell you, you have earned both my -friendship and my gratitude. First, there is no -insult here, in this note. I've been the scoundrel's -friend all his life. He had so few, and I told -him in confidence what I've never told anyone—did -not intend to tell till the announcement of my -marriage next month—Elsie is my daughter—she -is Lady Carfax by birthright and by title, and -this little scoundrel has taken advantage of my -confidence. He has always had a sneaking idea -that he would marry Eloise, and now that he can't, -he loves me so much he'd like to be my son-in-law, -though he ruined my daughter's chances in life to -do it, with his fool secret marriage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped and looked at me, thinking quietly -for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll excuse me, Jack, for plainness, but -we've no time for anything else, and I mean it all -kindly. But you, yourself, are mostly to blame -for this. I have read it in Elsie, but I thought -you'd never see it, never tell her of your love. -Now, it's this way, my boy; and I'll be frank. I -am going to take Lady Carfax home and finish her -education, and give her the chance her place -demands. You are always welcome to come and -be with us at any time as long as you choose, and -if, on her majority, she still loves you, and you -her, why—" he stopped, smiling kindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Colonel Goff," I said rising, "you certainly -misunderstand me. All that I'll talk to you about -later. I'm in a mood to-night I've never been in -before. Get your horse and go with me. I want -you to see that I have a fair fight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It won't do, Jack," he said. "I'll not even -let you go with me. It's Elsie I'm thinking of, -Elsie and you. The quieter this thing is settled, -the better for all. I see through it—as I told -you. I'll ride over to see him. I'll catch him -to-night, and when I have finished with him, he'll -never mention Elsie again, let alone try to marry -her secretly. I saw her to-night just before you -came. Jack, my little girl is happy. It pleases -me—let her stay happy, and you shall be, some -day, if you will—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did not reply. We rose to go. At the parting -of the road I galloped home, he to the city.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-last-dance"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE LAST DANCE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a night in early June. The Home -Stretch was all a-glitter, its porches and the great -trees on the lawn lighted with rows of colored -lanterns.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt and Eloise had returned; the Cumberland -races, the social event of the year, began -the next day, and in accordance with her custom -my Aunt was giving her annual ball. This time -it was to serve a two-fold purpose; for it was also -in honor of Eloise and Colonel Goff and was to be -the formal announcement of their coming marriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I rode over early. If I was needed I wanted -to help as of old; and I had seen neither of -them since they had returned a week ago, for -I had been away for several weeks, in an adjoining -county, earning my first fee in forestry. I had -been employed by a corporation to pass upon a -large tract of timber, to report its millage and -availability, but best of all I was to put my plans -into effect in its harvesting, cutting out only the -ripe trees, and preserving the young ones beneath -from death and mutilation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had spent two weeks among them. There -were many different kinds, and they had become -almost like children to me, and like children, they -each had different temperaments—these trees—different -forms, dispositions, dreams, and they always -talked to me, through their little leaves, but -sweetest of all in the night, even as children do, -when, full of themselves and of life, they gossip -so friendly in the balm of the June moon. They -told me like village gossipers, of their every little -affair, their little vexes, turmoils, the very little -scandals of their wood. And in more stirring -moods when the night winds would arise and -sweep through them the writers, minstrels and -poets, stirred to historic flights, quivered with their -greater dreams, sang their tales of tree tragedies, -of wars had, of fights for life and of martyr and -hero deaths.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I had lain and listened, and felt my heart -grow big with throbbing even as when I first read -of the wanderings of Ulysses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I came from out among them older, braver, -better. I came with higher motives for my own -life and eyes which saw clearer into the future and -read more kindly the lives of others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And gladly would I have stayed in the wood -among them, to go back—rather than to see what -I must see—Eloise betrothed to another. No -tree tragedy could be more cruel than that which -had killed the love of my own life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In withholdingness and sorrow I left them: -"duty" not as someone has said, "is the -sublimest word in the English language" because -duty is often done in pleasure, but the real -sublimity of duty is the duty done in pain. To fail -to go were cowardice, and I was no coward even -if my grandsire did think so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when I went into the great hall of The -Home Stretch, filled with chattering guests, the -contrast was poignant. It was as if deep in the -sleeping and silent forces a cloud of chattering birds had -landed suddenly among my trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is good to see you home again, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Eloise who spoke. Her eyes told me -that she had been waiting, and a brave lingering -smile went with her words. There were little -tired, hard lines around her sweet mouth. She -looked tired but game, as when, in a long day's -hunt after quail and the route home was long, and -our luck nil, it needed a good heart to smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood with Goff in the reception room, as -though she were Countess of Carfax already. -The hand I held trembled for the first time in mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad to see you back, Jack," said Goff, his -face aglow with the pride he felt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where have you been, Jack? I thought you -were never coming to see me again?" Eloise asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gradually moved away with me from the -crowd in the center of the room until we stood -apart in the large bay window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," I said teasingly, "you have got away -from your lord; he will miss you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not fun to her. Her face flushed, then -paled. "Jack, you must dance with me once -to-night—our last dance. I have something to tell -you then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think you ought to punish me any -more than you have already, Eloise," I said -frankly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe I am punishing myself more," she said -softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise, Eloise—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she had turned and was receiving the newly -arrived and merry crowd behind us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt held to some customs which she -permitted none of the innovations of society to -alter. One was that her balls must open with -the Virginia Reel. I saw her coming and -understood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," she nodded, commandingly, "we are -ready, you and Eloise open it up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise stood behind her smiling. She placed -both her hands in mine and together we glided -to the head of the line. We stood holding hands -and waiting for the music. Coming closer, my -Aunt smiled and whispered, "I wish you two -children could see what a fine pair you make. -Pedigree counts even in a Virginia Reel, and you -two were bred for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We both laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look into that mirror across yonder," she -laughed, "and see how much better I am at -pairing off people than they are themselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We glanced across and saw Goff and a fat lady -from town.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are matched perfectly," said my Aunt -Lucretia, "both grass-fed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please don't, Aunt Lucretia," said Eloise, -"that isn't fair. You are trying your best to -keep me from being a countess." Then she -added suddenly, "Oh, Jack, tell me about Satan. -You don't know how I've missed him. Where -have you two been?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the wood together. No—n-o—you -shall never have him, such a horse—such a -comrade."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise pouted. "You'll see. Why Colonel -Goff has promised I shall take him to England -with me. And Jack—how about his exercise? -My heart is set on beating him in that hurdle race, -and Aunt Lucretia would have apoplexy if she lost -that bet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he's hard enough. I rode him two hundred -miles to Obion County and back. I honestly -believe he could run across the county to-morrow; -and jump! I am glad you mentioned it—-it was -wonderful—he is foolish about me. It is -because he knows I love you, dear," I said, -whispering in her ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please don't, Jack, you only hurt me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was across a small ravine from him one day, -had hitched him and was looking at some timber. -He broke his halter and came to me. I heard his -calling neigh and I answered him, and he came -to me, clearing a ten-foot ravine in a jump."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise clapped her hands, and my Aunt, who -had come up and heard it, smiled. Then she said, -with her usual red-tape accuracy, "I hope you -took the measurements. Was it really ten feet, Jack?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I measured it," I said, "and it was nearly -bottomless. If one foot had missed—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt nodded to Eloise. "That little -branch in Cumberland Park is only ten across from -bank to bank. Oh, we'll play it on his lordship -fine! Come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a crash of music. With radiant -cheeks and eyes that I saw many a night -afterwards in my dreams, and a proud smile she went -with me down the line.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pretty surprise for us at the -supper. We had filed into the dining hall. My -grandfather sat alone, his hair white under the -candles. On the right of him stood Eloise and -Colonel Goff, and the long line of expectant guests -stood around down the long table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My grandfather rapped, and, raising his glass, -proposed a toast to the future Earl and Countess -of Carfax. There was a burst of applause. The -guests lifted their glasses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My friends," said Colonel Goff, bravely, -when the room became quiet, "I came to you -years ago, an exiled Englishman, and I found a -home here, following my old commander from -the war. I came lonely and alone. I go back with -a sorrow in my heart at leaving many friends -behind, but instead of going alone, I return taking -with me one who will be the peer of any countess -of the long line of Carfax."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned, bowing grandly to Eloise, who, -pale, and with trembling lips listened. I could -see her breast faltering with quickened breathing. -Her parted lips panted for air, even though she -stood beaming graciously to the greeting. "I -have another announcement to make," he went on -very quietly, "and I think it right that I do it -now, that I may be just to myself, to the good -people who have reared her, and to my child whom -I love. My coming here was not altogether -purposeless. You will understand when I introduce -to you my daughter, Lady Elsie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a stir at the lower end of the table, -and I saw my Aunt Lucretia open the folding -doors and Tammas followed by Marget enter. -Elsie followed, her face ablaze with that beauty -which was always hers when excited. She was -more like an angel of light than a girl, and around -her neck and in her hair were the jewels of the -house of Carfax.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Goff met and kissed her, and very simply and -sweetly she advanced and kissed Eloise, graciously, -almost unconsciously, a kiss both of love and -tribute. She stood between them, bowing and -smiling so graciously down the table that her -breeding was evident.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All who knew her loved her, and for the next -ten minutes they thronged around her with kisses -and congratulations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did not go, for there were tears in my eyes -and a great choking in my throat. When I -looked up Tammas and Marget were standing by -me, Tammas making a bold effort at winking his -tears away and smiling. He mopped his brow -vigorously, and said mechanically, "'Tis a bonny -night for us, a bonny night and a glorious for our -lassie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, weel," said Marget between her sobs, -"but dinna she look it—like her ain sweet -mother? Oh, but she was that bonny, and 'tis -she, our lassie, Tammas, can be looking down -on her this blessed minute, her bairn who has come -into her own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Elsie saw us and came quietly forward. -She clasped me impulsively around the neck and -kissed me, whispering, "Oh, it is mine, Jack, -that I felt but could not tell. 'Tis the unattainable -come true, and now, Jack, dear Jack, that I -am Lady Elsie, now that I am worthy of you—" -she could not speak. Her lips were deadly white -as if with faintness. I held her, stroking her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were always worthy of anyone, sweet -one. Be brave, be brave, now," I whispered, -"and go back to your father's side."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked up to find Eloise's eyes upon me, and -a strange understanding in their depths.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am staying with papa, at The Manor now," -said Elsie as she left me and Marget. "You will -not let it keep you from coming to see me often, -will you, Jack?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, weel, to be sure, lassie," broke in -Tammas, and I caught the pleased look that seemed -part of his countenance that night as if now his -heart's desire had already come to pass, "ay, weel, -to be sure, for our Mr. Jack will always be our -Mr. Jack to us, lassie." ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the last waltz. Eloise beckoned to me, -and when I reached her, she opened her arms and -I took her in mine. I could not speak, my heart -beating almost strangled me. I held her tight, -and into the sweetness of the music and the lure -of the waltz came again all the past sweetness -from her girlhood up, all blending in memory with -the perfume of her hair, the whiteness of her -throat, and the firm supple touch of her lithe, -strong body against mine. Again she was my -Little Sister and comrade of the long past. My -life, my love, my all that I dreamed and hoped, -danced with her in that last dance....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt her heart beating against mine. Her -breathing was a sob. I felt her wilt, her limbs -give way beneath her, her arms hang limp, her -head fall back. I carried her in my arms to the -sofa....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A little ice water," said my Aunt Lucretia. -When I looked up Colonel Goff stood over her -bathing her face. "I should not have let her -dance so much—it was all too much for her." He -bent again, stroking the beautiful hair. I -could not see more for my anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the cool air outside I came to myself. My -anger died, all but my own bitterness. I saw the -long line of carriages and the men sleeping on -boxes, and then I heard a nicker, a friendly little -recalling whinny from Satan's stall, and the next -instant I had swung into his saddle, and touched -my heel to his flank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw the grooms on the boxes sit up, and stare -into the night, for straight to the banks of a little -creek I rode him, not down the old road. He -leaped high into the air, enjoying even more than I -did the glory of the risk and jump. He swept like -a whirlwind through the gate. The mad ride -home soothed me.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-high-jump"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE HIGH JUMP</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>From the crush of the great crowds around the -grand stand at the race-course, lining up far down -the in-field, and jamming the betting sheds, I saw -my Aunt Lucretia forcing her sorrel horse -through the gathering. She had been a familiar -figure at every fair and race meeting as far back -as I could remember. No secretary for twenty -years had questioned her judgment or her orders; -they were too glad to have her help. I was in -the judges' stand helping them out. I had ridden -over early, leaving Satan to my Aunt's stable boy, -who had already worked him out with a stiff -gallop of two miles, and rubbed him down for the -hurdle race and the high jump.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt Lucretia rode up close to the little -canopied stand and beckoned to me. "Ever see -such a crowd?" she said, smiling proudly. "I -told Roswick this special high jump and hurdle -would draw 'em. I'll bet there are twenty -thousand people in that crowd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the programme?" I asked indifferently, -though I knew it as well as she. I had come -out under protest with myself as it were; I would -rather have been deep in the heart of my wood -where I might not see Eloise. I had tossed all -night on my bed. If I dozed it was only to -awaken, feeling that I held Eloise fainting in my -arms. I did not want to see her, for in my heart, -since I last danced, there had been such a tempest -of conflicting emotions as made me pace the floor -all night; and by day I knew not my own mind. -Yet somehow it was not all sorrow. For I knew -now that Eloise loved me and at thought of it -my heart almost burst with gladness. Gladness -was mingled so with sorrow that I wondered if -both were not sweeter for the mingling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Colonel Goff and I have put up a few three-foot -hurdles," my Aunt said, sweeping the track -with her hand, "and he and Eloise and a few of -the younger people are going to gallop over them -just for fun. Goff really wants to show off his -record-breaking jumper and his </span><em class="italics">fiancée</em><span> at the -same time," she said, smiling carelessly at me. -"The hurdles will be for any of them who care -to go over them, but the high jump," and she -pointed to a movable gate of bars, flanked with -high panels on each side, "will be put across the -wire at the finish for Goff and his hunter only," -and she laughed, winking at me slyly. "The -record is five feet six; Goff thinks that is what -he is going after again; but I've put up another -bar for fun. I want to see Goff's imported -record-breaking 'lepper,' as he calls him, break his -blooming knees on that top bar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned impatiently. "Aunt Lucretia, that's -dangerous, six feet—and under the whip, after a -mile dash!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia smiled. "None of them is supposed -to go after the high jump but the Colonel, -and he swears he can do it. H-u-s-h!" she -whispered. "Not a word of this. Just let Eloise -fix him. I've been twenty years arguing with him -about importing these worthless brutes and the -superiority of our own horses, now I am going to -make him pay for his obstinacy—s-sh! There -they come now," and she pointed to the in-field, -through which a jolly group of riders came, society -people mostly, girls and boys and members of the -hunting club who were out for the mile gallop over -the short hurdles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are ten couples of them in all," she said, -"our smartest boys and girls. Many of them -will not even try the low hurdles and none of them -the high jump except the Colonel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought not to try it," I said resolutely. -"Don't you know that nothing can keep Eloise -and Satan from trying that gate of bars?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," said my Aunt, "but Goff doesn't -know it, and that is where he will part with his -ducats. He has even forgotten the bet, he has -been so happy; but I'll remind him. He hasn't -the least idea that Satan could jump over his -shadow in the road. O-h, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we talked they rode up. "Now see here," -said Colonel Goff to his crowd, as he lined them -up, "some of these hurdles are going to take a -bit of going, and you boys must give the ladies -the front, for your dust might blind the horses -to the hurdles and make them rush over them with -chances for bad tumbles and broken knees. We'll -finish the last quarter flat; but I'll go over the gate -and bars here for exhibition. It's a pretty stiff -affair and will take a bit of going, so the rest of -you will please be so kind as to give me the lead -here and an open field; just hack around this last -quarter, following me, and dodge the gate. -There's plenty of room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Colonel sat his horse near me as I stood, -watch in hand in the judges' stand. Eloise had -not looked my way. She sat her great, -steel-limbed mount as unconcernedly as if she were -going on a fox chase. The others were laughing -and excited, the untried horses nervous and -restless, but Satan stood still, looking as if carved -out of the black granite of the hills. Eloise -glanced up and saw me. I turned my head -quickly, but she came over, her face pale, but her -eyes smiling kindly into mine. The old fun was -in them, the old daring, colt-breaking fun I had -not seen there since my return.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," she said, laughing, "if I could only -get you behind the barn to split my skirts again; -this side-saddle is too heavy." She was looking -me bravely in the eye, laughing as she said it. -Then all at once I saw all the make-believe go out -of her face and her eyes fall before mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Riding up softly she whispered, "Jack, do you -remember the Story of Atalanta?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he doesn't beat me this mile, and over that -high jump he shall never have me, I have told him -so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There are little things even in big events that -count more than the big things themselves. I -sat utterly wretched. I heard her calling her -horse pet names, and saw her rubbing his neck -with her whip. I saw the old daring nervousness -that showed in the very shoulders of her, the -keen, fine play of her eyes, and the white lines -that lay like a rim of moonlight around the red -of her lips. The next five minutes were spent -by the starter telling of the record of Goff's -horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They lined up ready for the word. It was I -who gave it. Instantly from Eloise, even in the -thunder of the great leap of her horse I saw two -fingers fly to her lips in a kiss to me in her old -daring, fun-loving way. "Go!" I had cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I am coming back, Jack. Good-by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Colonel's horse, trained as he was, strode -easily ahead of the noisy, awkward bunch. I saw -Eloise turn Satan loose, and in an instant he had -collared the imported one. They went over the -first hurdle like a pair, the field behind Nestor -and Satan running neck and neck. With my -glasses I could see that Goff was smiling in the -delight of the race she was giving him. They -were not going fast—it was more of a gallop—for -the Colonel set the pace to suit the slower field -of amateurs behind him. They mounted the last -hurdle together, and came into the back stretch -for the last quarter of the mile. The six-foot gate -sat in the middle of the track. The judges rose -and stood with their timers in their hands. I -heard the grand stand hum and buzz with expectancy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, hold back!" shouted Goff to all as he -turned his horse loose in the stretch. "Give me -the right of way!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came the last quarter with great speed, and -then I saw the grand stand rise to its feet, and a -wild roar followed, for Eloise had passed him as -a full-set yacht a tug, headed straight for the bars. -I heard Goff shouting to her; he had lost his head -in the fear for her safety. They rose for the -leap, Eloise two lengths ahead. I saw Satan rise -high, true to his stride, high up—straight up, -his great form silhouetted against the sky, Eloise -smiling, triumphantly, beautifully, splendidly -lifting him over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Goff's horse that did it. In the excitement -his rider did not hold him true; he wavered -a moment, dodged faint-heartedly, ducked, shied -the perilous leap before him, and, bolting, struck -the nigh post of the movable gate, hurling it -forward ten feet, full under the flanks of Satan, who -had cleared it. It caught him cruelly as he came -down, under the flanks, making him turn a -summersault, hurling Eloise into the fence. I heard -the grand stand groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was I who held her lifeless form in my arms....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I remember but little of the tent and the -surgeons. I heard someone say, "</span><em class="italics">She'll die, her -back is broken!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A horse, riderless, had followed us to the tent's -very door; he had thrust his head in, whinnying. -It broke my heart to feel his cold nose against -my cheek. It was then I led him away, so blinded -by tears that I did not see where we went.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="love-is-not-love-that-alters"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE HICKORY'S SON</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"LOVE IS NOT LOVE THAT ALTERS WHEN IT ALTERATION FINDS"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Three weeks after Eloise was injured and while -her life was yet despaired of by the physician, -my Aunt Lucretia came to me. I was sitting on -the rustic bench beneath the hickories. Night -after night I had sat there, watching the light -from her window, and the coming and going of -the physician and nurses. To-day there had been -a consultation. My Aunt had sent for a famous -surgeon of Philadelphia, and all afternoon he had -been in the sick room. When I saw my Aunt I -knew that his decision had been reached, and -though I sat still, apparently calm, my heart was -smothered within me. She said very distinctly, -"It's her spine, Jack, he says she will never walk -again."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I found myself an hour afterwards taking the -old path to the dairy. I saw the light from -Tammas's cottage shining far out into the night. -I was wandering around numbed, stunned. As -I passed the paddock I heard Satan whinny -appealingly to me. From the little window in his -stall he had thrust out his great head. This was -the horse we had all feared, and had cruelly -misnamed. The great vicious horse that had almost -killed the groom, that had only been conquered -by one woman, had his head on my shoulder and -was whinnying softly. I knew that he was -begging for news of Eloise, and for sympathy; and, -dumb as he was, he knew that I would understand.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"She insists that she must see you to-night," -said my Aunt Lucretia, when I reached the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She led me up the old, familiar stairs, and down -the great hall to Eloise's room. She stopped at -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will find her very brave," said my Aunt, -"very brave, and so must you be," she added, -giving me a quick look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she opened the door, and I stood looking -at Eloise, with drawn, tied lips, and a great -choking in my throat, trying to return the smile she -was giving me from among her pillows. I stood -still, I could not move, my limbs seemed to have -caught the dead numbness of my heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want you right here by me a moment, Jack," -she said calmly. "You'll let him sit on the side -of the bed, Miss Rose, just a moment. I'll not -exert myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was more beautiful than ever. Her brave -body had lost none of its suppleness and grace; -her face shone, and over the pillow her hair was -massed in great red-gold waves against the white -of the linen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See," she said, taking my hand, "see, Jack, I -can move my head and both my arms. Isn't that -fine? And the doctor says I shall always be able -to do that, and, well—" she smiled, "he says -there is no reason why I should not outlive all of -you to be an old woman. A crippled old woman—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned my head quickly. As she had spoken -I saw again the brave, beautiful creature, coming -in head-long flight at the six-foot bar, and the -triumphant smile that lit her face, sky-lined forever -in my memory, as she lifted her horse almost -straight up towards the sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was speaking now to the nurse. "If you -please, just a moment Miss Rose—Aunt Lucretia, -I would like to speak to Jack alone. I shall not -exert myself." I heard them go out. "There! -I have been thinking, Jack, all these weeks—one -can think so very much lying in bed, and see so -very, very far. I have been thinking and seeing, -Jack. It's so easy to think and so hard to see. -But—but—I have prayed, too, about it—to -help me see. Praying is seeing's eyesight, Jack. -I want you to promise me something. It is -what I have seen in my prayer—it is the last -thing I shall ever ask of you—for you have done -me so many favors, dear Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could not speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Earl—Colonel Goff—they let me see -him to-day. It hurt me more than my own hurt -to see the poor man suffer so in the blame he puts -upon himself for the accident. He won't see, -Jack,—he can't—that it was God's way of -settling it—God's way. For He alone knew how -foolish I was—how wicked to sell myself as I -did—and how my heart, though I did not know -it till that day, Jack—has always been yours!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took her in my arms, my face pressed against -her cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lay still, patting my face with her hand and -saying: "I am—it is—well, it seems also to -be one of God's ways:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'We look before and after</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And pine for what is not.'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I heard her try to laugh in her old, brave way. -She was looking again into my eyes, and I sat -holding her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Colonel Goff," she went on, "gentleman -that he is, thinks he must settle the account for -his blundering ride, and begs me to marry him -anyway; I, a cripple for life. He forgets that -God balanced it when he stopped me from the sin -of selling my heart for—for—his bauble—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have sent him away satisfied, Jack. I -believe he would love me truly," and she smiled, -"now that he sees that I cannot ride. Love me -for myself and not for my riding; but I shall -love only you, Jack, till I die—the old crippled -woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was silent for a moment. "And the -compensation for my admitting it—you know it is -costing me something—you don't know how hard -it is for me to say it first, Jack; but the compensation -I claim, will you give it to your little lame -girl? It is this, and now nod your head, say -'</span><em class="italics">yes</em><span>' Jack. I've seen—Elsie loves you, and you -must—you must marry the child. She is everything -you want, and you half-way love her already. -It will be easy now, Jack, promise it; for your -sake—for both your sakes, I'm asking. Promise me, -Jack, I want to see you happy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had my hand against her cheek, fondling -it. Her eyes had never seemed so beautiful.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 78%" id="figure-49"> -<span id="id2"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""LOVE IS NOT LOVE THAT ALTERS."" src="images/img-213.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"LOVE IS NOT LOVE THAT ALTERS."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you remember the kind of love I said I -had for you that first night after I came -home?" She pressed my hand against her cheek again. -"And the kind you said you'd never felt, but -would give your life to feel?" Again I felt the -pressure. "That kind which I told you of, and -which I have had for you all the time, is that kind -that Shakespeare told of when he said:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"That's the kind I have for you, Eloise—have -always had; and do you remember the love -you said you wanted, you'd give your life for, -yourself, your soul and your body. '</span><em class="italics">I, who wish it -so, to be widowed of it all my life</em><span>'—those were -your words. How they cut into my heart—that -love, Eloise, can't you see? Don't you know -that it is yours and you are widowed of it no -longer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put her arms around my neck and pulled -my face down to hers, smothering her mouth in -my kisses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Jack, why did you say it—see it? Why -did you not let me fool myself—fool you? -Why—and—oh, if you had only not seen it—not -let me know you saw it! Love? Don't you -know now that the kind I said I'd have is as I -said it was? Worth life—worth death—worth -all—worth all—then God help me, Jack, if I -sin—God forgive me, but I'd rather hold it to my -heart a helpless cripple that I am—hold it never -to satisfy it—never to know what it means, -helpless, bed-ridden cripple that I am than to be the -well, strong thing I was without it. Oh, Jack, -don't you know now what I mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She kissed me again and again, holding my -cheek to hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by, you'll not see me again, Jack, so -good-by, Jack, forever. And in time, though -you'll never forget me nor cease to love me, you -will do as I said; for yours is youth and love and -strength, and they must be mated. When you can -think of me without tears, without sorrow or pity, -but as one who has lived and is gone—only as -the memory of a sweet dream that might have -been—then, dear, dear Jack, remember the last -request I made of you, remember to make Elsie -happy; and in time—in time, Jack, oh, what a -love-maker he is! be happy yourself. Hold me -a moment, just a moment to your heart—then—kiss -me again and say with me the little prayer -Aunt Lucretia used to make us say, holding hands -in the long ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Holding her face against mine, and with clasped -hands as of old, we said:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Now I lay me down to sleep,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I pray the Lord my soul to keep;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If I should die before I wake,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I pray the Lord my soul to take."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Although the words of Eloise came to me again -and again as I rode home that night, I was never -so happy, nor so hopeful. Yet she had said, -"Good-by, good-by, Jack, I shall never see you -again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall see her to-morrow night," my heart -kept saying over and over. "I will not give her -up; I will marry her, if I have to carry her in my -arms through life!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the next night when I rode over my -grandfather met me at the door. He greeted me with -petulant indifference. Both Eloise and Aunt -Lucretia had left that morning—where, he did not -know. She was a hopeless cripple with a broken -spine, and was carried away in a cot to some -institution where she might be cared for properly for -the balance of her life. I forgave the old man -because he was old—the reiterated statement that -he had made allowance for her care himself, for -although she was no blood kin, and had no claim -upon him, she had been with him all her life, and -was a ward of his daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could learn nothing from the servants. Aunt -Lucretia, Eloise, and the nurse had gone. They -had carried Eloise in a cot to the train and boarded -it. It was Thomas, the driver, who gave me Aunt -Lucretia's letter. She wrote, "I have thought it -all over, Jack, and this is the only thing to do. -All of them are agreed, that she can never walk -again. To keep her at home will only make life -a tragedy to you both. It is best that you never -see her again, nor she you. Sentiment is one -thing, and life another. Sometimes they go -together, and it is well. But when they cannot, -when sentiment lives and that love of nature which -reproduces life is dead, it is folly to quibble, for -the loss of being is the loss of life. Be sensible, -brave, and manly as you have always been and -forget Eloise. Changed conditions change one's -life. You must change yours. I have a request -to make. I shall be at home in a month, but I -do not want you ever to mention Eloise to me, -for I shall not tell you where she is. This is -hard, but I am doing it for your good, as I have -always done, my dear boy. When I return if -she is alive you may write to her, since she has -begged me so, and this is the only one happiness -the poor child will have in her stunted life, and -I will see that she gets the letters, though she -can never reply. It is best to forget."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little note Eloise sent brought tears. It -was a heart's-ease that Aunt Lucretia had -evidently gathered for her, and under it was written, -"</span><em class="italics">I am widowed of love but I am wedded. Forgive -me, forget me, but love me always, Jack, as -I shall you—Eloise.</em><span>"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-dream-and-its-ending"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A DREAM AND ITS ENDING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In my grief at the going of Eloise I remember -little of what I did in the next few days. Then I -received a note from Colonel Goff asking me to -ride over to The Manor, as both he and Elsie -wanted to see me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the way I stopped to see Tammas and -Marget. In their worship of Elsie I believe they -thought only of her and her happiness. They -had certainly not understood about my relations -with Eloise. Their happiness was plain to be -seen, the very laughter which at times broke over -their honest faces told me clearly their pride and -happiness in the turn affairs had taken with Elsie -and me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But despite my efforts not to show what was -crushing my heart, they perceived that something -was very seriously wrong with me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, Jackie, 'tis a hard time you have been -having, my lad," said Tammas, "and it's unreasonable -to think the old General would turn you -out of home like this; but the final word in the -book of every honest man's life is the word good, -and you'll not be losing out in the end—na, na."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you are going now to see our lassie," -said Marget, smiling slyly, "and sure, Jackie, if -ever man had recompense in the sweetness of love -'tis you. Never have I seen anything sae near -an angel of light in spirit and sae beautiful in body, -since she came up the hill to us that evening with her -doubts all gone; ay, it is Tammas and I who are -as happy as you, Jackie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sighed. "I dinna ken that it's a' gladness," -she went on; "for the Earl is preparing to -leave soon for his estate in the auld country, and -he wants us to gang wi' him—of course—but—" -and she looked at me gravely as if seeking -answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I only shook my head sadly. "I do not -know, Marget—I do not know. My plans—you -see—Aunt Lucretia and Eloise—that awful -accident!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marget started to speak, but Tammas stopped -her quickly, whispering to her, "Wheest, wumman, -dinna ye see, dinna ye understaun—she was as -his ain sister. It's that that's saddening -him." And then he added louder, "Eh, but it was a -terrible thing—she that was sae young an' daring -and sae bonnie—to be an invalid a' her days—the -bold beautiful thing that loved life sae weel! -An' it's a' but upset the Earl. I hae never kent -him to be sae troubled, for he was unco fond o' -her, an' a grand Countess she wad hae made him. -An' to think it was his ain horse! The puir man -is nearly daft!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was silent. I could not speak. For once the -kindly talk of these two good folks annoyed me. -Marget saw this, and with a motherly tenderness -that touched me deeply, said, "Weel—weel, -Jackie, dinna take it sae to heart. When you go -to her ain land an' see what you have won in oor -lassie, ye'll be sayin' with Rabbie Burns that 'tis -the only place to live and love in. But awa' ye -gang," she said, giving me a gentle push; "it's -near supper time a' ready an' fine I ken that she -an' the Earl are wanting ye at The Manor. For -three days she has come ower here, wondering whit -wey ye had na come; she kens aboot the accident -an' is sorrowfu', tae, but she's sae keen to see ye, -Jackie, an' she'll be a bit o' comfort till ye if ye -will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff was already making preparations -for his going. I found him more quiet and serious -than I had ever seen him. I understood that he -would give anything in the world to undo the -accident, and that he now found that he cared more -for Eloise since she was lost to us than he had -himself known, and that, like me, he was in total -ignorance as to where Aunt Lucretia had taken her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, Jack!" he kept repeating as he walked -the floor, "I can never forgive myself! That -beastly, beastly ride! To have loved horses as -I have all my life, to have done so much for them -and their sport and to have my pride in them all -thrown away and the whole of my life changed -like that! ... There is Elsie—go with -her, Jack—the child wants you!" he added as he -headed towards his stable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I pitied him, but I pitied myself more. For, -looking at him, hearing him talk, I saw that he -did not know and would never know. God had -not made him to know as Eloise and I knew, not -even as Elsie would know. In spite of all that -had passed before him, and all that he had seen, -he did not know that as he talked of Eloise it was -I who was suffering most. He did not even see -remotely that it was I who loved her, not he.... -There are fish in the deep sea which -carry their own electric light.... There -are others there which have not even eyes! ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie was openly happy all the afternoon with -me. Such dreams as she had dreamt of our -future! Such dreams as had come true even in her -own castle!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I let her talk and plan for our future. I did -not know what it all meant, whither Fate was -hurrying me. I could not see the end, but I knew -that the end would be well. For the real architect -of our lives is God. The very shadow of our -doubt becomes pictures done in beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It takes shadows to make pictures. In the -foreground of every shadow already stands the picture -from His hand. And as for the sorrows sent of -Him, they are not sorrows; rather are they crowns -of Great Joy for brows chosen of Martyrdom.... -So I let her dream and love and plan, -knowing that whatever was coming to me would -be good, that behind the Wish of our own little -dreams lay the larger Will of the Great Dreamer....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the afternoon I had slipped away to a place -where two great maples threw their shadows across -the lawn. I was tired, and my heart was full of -conflicts. I wanted to think of Eloise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a quiet, sweet place. Then I heard Elsie -coming, full of happiness, to judge from the very -tread of her feet on the grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was lying half propped against a tree. Looking -up I saw she was kneeling above me, her eyes -laughing as she shyly peeped from behind the -trunk. There was a sofa pillow in her hands and -she was trying to place it under my head. "You -must sleep, now," she said softly. "You are so -tired and hollow-cheeked, Jack, my bonnie Jack. -I am going to begin to learn now to take care of -you. I will come to waken you in an hour, then -we are going to drive into town, father and you -and me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lingered a moment slyly; then stooped to -kiss my forehead and was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had not come to sleep, I had come to think -of Eloise, to dream of her once more. I took -her note from my pocket; I kissed it and with tears -I read it. "</span><em class="italics">I was widowed of love but I am -wedded. Forgive me, forget me, but love me -always, Jack, as I shall you,—Eloise.</em><span>" How -strange it is, this joy-sorrow! There can be but -one explanation of it: down the endless chain of -our ancestry so much sorrow has come that the -taint of it lies sweetly in the pedigree of our own -breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I kissed the withered heart's-ease. Later I -must have fallen asleep...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Colonel Goff who wakened me, coming -on a run.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quick, Jack!" he cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was up in an instant. He stood beside me -panting, almost faint. He held a little slip in his -hand. His face was white, his lips drawn, but a -battle coolness that went like cold steel into my -own soul was in his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elsie, Jack! Stone's River bridge—you -may save her yet! She is drowning herself! -Your horse, quick! I'll follow as best I can!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly I understood. I glanced down. Eloise's -note was gone. Elsie's hat lay on the grass -instead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Satan had been saddled for my ride to town -and stood at the rack. In two quick leaps I was -by his side. The next minute I held the reins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you ever rode in your life," I heard her -father saying behind me, "if you ever rode in -your life, Jack! You may save her yet—straight -down the pike to the bridge!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The horse seemed to know. He wheeled as -the reins went over his head, pivoted, as I'd seen -him so often do, on two legs, for quickness, up -into the air, wheeling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I held a good clutch on the pommel and as I -rose his own great bound jerked me like a bolt -into the saddle. I saw the old butler, -bare-headed, running to open the gate, and Colonel -Goff panting, helpless, crossing the grass. But -even Satan knew we'd lose if we waited. It was -only a four-foot rock wall; it was play for him to -clear it. He landed squarely and already in a full -run.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bridge was a mile away. It was made of -iron and its sides were protected by a railing. It -was high where the pike reached it, spanning a -gorge cut through the hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A rock fence ran along the pike up to the bridge -on each side. There the bluff was sheer twenty -feet straight down to the river. Satan ran like -a tube of quick-silver down the long white -pathway of the pike. As we flashed up the slope -leading to it, I caught just a glimpse of a white -gown going over the bridge from the middle -railing. I had to throw all my weight on his left -rein to send him over the rock fence at the foot -of the bridge and I knew when he felt my heel -go into his flank and my pull that shot his great -game head into the fence, that he thought I was -crazy, was sending us both to death!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he never faltered. It all depended on how -he cleared that four-foot fence and the twenty feet -down to the river. I knew when he rose for the -leap that he expected firm ground on the other -side. Would he balk, falter and fail me when -he saw?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I drove my heel into him. I felt him quiver -just a moment beneath me. Then I held my -breath. A white figure floated midway of the -river before me. Up went his head, the water -only flashed beneath him twenty full feet below. -I watched the play of his ears for his thoughts. -If they fluttered, wavered, showed fright, I knew -he would balk and quit. For an instant I saw -them flutter back and forth, little tell-tales of -surprise, then down they came angrily, glued to his -neck as one grits one's teeth in a crisis, and he shot -over the wall, balanced squarely, holding himself -superbly, down!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I clutched the pommel with both hands, locking my -legs under his chest as we struck the stinging, -biting waters and went under. It seemed long -before we came up and I could see the white -gown going down again. I clutched it with one -hand, drawing her head clear of the water against -my breast. I felt the horse moving easily beneath -me. Would he see the great bluffs and understand, -or would he strike straight across for them -and drown us all, whirling round and round, -trying to find a passway up straight walls of rock? -It all lay with him. It was correct instinct now or -death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I threw the reins over his head, crying, "</span><em class="italics">Go -out—your way, Satan!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was his good sense that saved us, his instinct -rather, that is greater than sense. He lost no -strength in useless floundering against steep walls -for a landing. He seemed to know instantly. I -felt him moving beneath me down stream while -I held Elsie safe. Two, three, four hundred feet -he swam, the great game chap, till we passed the -bluff; then he floundered up and out on the bank like -a great dog, shaking himself.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-awakening"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE AWAKENING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was Colonel Goff who met me at the door -of The Manor when I called the next night. -Marget and Tammas were both there, silent, and -with awed, sorrowful faces. Two doctors were -in the house, for Elsie's life and mind lay in the -balance, and it seemed that a straw would turn -them either way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Marget who spoke first. "Ay, -Jackie—Jackie—'tis as I hinted to you, lad," said she, -"it was in the blood of the Carfaxes, and but for -your ride and leap, lad, our lassie had done what -two of her grandames, two of the ladies of -Carfax, did before her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tammas, tears standing in his eyes, could only -hold my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff led me into the library. For a -while he was silent, his stolid face expressionless. -Then he said very quietly, "Jack, the chances are -all against her, one way or the other; it looks as -if my little lassie is doomed to go the way of her -house. If she survives the shock I am afraid her -mind will not; that is what is hinging now, that is -why we have sent for you again. It is only a -chance—one chance in ten—but the doctors -thought—as the shock that unminded her came -through you, that you might—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded. "I understand. I would give my -life for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pressed my hand, his voice choking. "You -proved that, my boy, you proved that. How you -escaped, how that horse ever cleared that fence -and cliff—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," he went on, turning impulsively, "I -am a blunt man, plain and not farseeing in things -like all of these, that have come to me so swift and -fast. I don't mean these accidents—I'm used to -them—life and the whole little game of it is -all a blind chance. I have taken mine all my -life—and—and—well, they've always been against -me, Jack—always, even now. I've lost—always—even -as I shall lose now—Elsie. The -great hand of Fate that flings the dice for us has -always thrown them loaded for me—Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was silent. I thought of God and the -Butterfly. I pitied him, seeing nothing as he did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I am not farseeing—not farseeing—in -things like the other side of all this—not the -blind chance side which has always been mine—but -the side you make yourself, someway, -somehow, like this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drew a blurred and crumpled note from his -pocket. It was Eloise's. I had seen it last when, -holding it to my breast, I had fallen asleep that -afternoon under the trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This kind of a little thing, Jack," he said, -handing me the little relic. "I am a blundering -fool—and I have to tell you so—to tell you -what an unseeing fool I have been. I see it all -now—and yet I'd never have seen. I found this -clutched in Elsie's hand. This was her shock—this -was my folly—my unseeing folly. No, -no," he cried quickly, seeing I was about to say -something. "No, no, Jack, I see it all—don't -say a word. You've been a man all through -it—a white man, Jack. I am not talking to put you -on trial. I'm passing judgment on myself for -your sake, my boy; that you may understand what -a selfish, unseeing fool I have been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's down to this—it's all past—let -it go," he added. "But Elsie—she is of the -living present. You must help me, help me a little -yet awhile Jack—till—till the crisis is past."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I pressed his hand silently. "Thank you," he -said simply, "and now just a word of explanation. -This trouble of hers runs in the blood of -the Carfaxes. My grandmother, my own sister, -went this way. They are keyed high, and if -a shock like this comes, it's death or an -unbalancing. When she read that," he said, "which -unseeing one that I have been, was all my fault, -when she read it, Jack, she lost her reason, she -was temporarily insane when she made that leap. -She is conscious now and stronger; but still she -remembers nothing up to that mental shock, the -shock of that note, that showed her all, -and—oh well, I'm only a blunt kind of a man—I can't -tell it—you alone could do that. But it's this -now, Jack, you go in and talk to her. You stay -with her—till we get her right—and we've a -chance to yet—Jack, until we get her right—just -let her believe—believe— Oh, you know, Jack!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tears were in his eyes as he led me into -Elsie's room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tammas and Marget were by the bed. Elsie -lay amid her pillows, a strange startled look in -her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You and the old people, Jack," whispered the -doctor, rising and taking Goff by the arm, "you -all just talk to her, get her back to the dairy and -the old ways again, if you can. If she can be -quieted and her mind bridged over the shock, she'll -be all right again. And to-night will tell," he -added quietly, "so be very calm. I have given -her all the morphine she'll stand, tried everything, -but if she can't be made to sleep she'll lose her -mind and if she doesn't sleep to-night her mind is -doomed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was not certain, but I had always suspected -that I possessed the power of suggestion. I had -felt it in dealing with dumb animals and weaker -people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I sat by her, talking to her in the old way. -"It is Jack, Elsie," I said, "your own Jack. -We've met in our old trysting place. We are -under our old trees, and Tammas and Marget are -here and you are tired and are going to sleep while -your head is on my lap. I'll watch you sleep—sleep -now," I said softly, stroking her forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a deep sigh, then the frightened wild -look died out of her eyes and with a smile like her -old one she slept.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The doctor beckoned me. "That's good," he -said in the hallway. "Just let the nurse and -Marget stay with her, let her sleep all night if she -will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I will have to waken her," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled. "Oh no; she'll waken herself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll stay here all night, Colonel Goff," I -assured her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Jack," he said, his face brightening -for the first time. "Of course you will stay -with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The crisis will come with her awakening," -said the doctor. "She will awaken sound of mind -and at death's door, or she will awaken to live, -her mind gone. It is all in her sleeping, and -to-night will decide it. I will retire, waken me if I -am needed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All night Colonel Goff and I sat up. Every -little while we went into her room to see Elsie -sleeping, Marget by her side, the nurse asleep on -the cot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Twice the doctor came in. "Her pulse and -temperature are normal," he would say. "That's -good. Let her sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Colonel Goff and I could not sleep. All -night he smoked, talked and walked the floor. He -told me his life's story, and in the hopefulness -of Elsie's sleeping he seemed to have taken a new -hold of things. "If the hand that has flung the -loaded dice for me all my life will only give me one -clean deal now," he cried, as he paced the floor -with his steady military stride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will," I said, "Colonel Goff. It gives a -clean deal to a clean heart always, and yours is -a different heart now. I see it; you are a -different man now. Now, I would give my very life -for you and my poor little Elsie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was deep emotion in the man before -me, his eyes were moist. "Great God, Jack, do -you mean that, man? Do you know you have said -it? It is even so—I see it—have seen it all -night—wondering, how—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God help me," he went on, "and save Elsie -as He has saved me—from myself—through it -all. I see it now—through all my life—my -own fool will, my obstinacy, madness, -sin—unseeingness: brought me through it all, back to -my own, my family name, my earldom—my -own—Great God, think of it—what has been done -to unseeing, uncaring me! How much I have -received—how little I have earned!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I left him a strong man pacing the floor, his -face aglow with a new life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie had slept twelve hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can't awaken her," said the doctor as I -went in after a short sleep. "I suspect you -possess unconsciously hypnotic power, Jack. It all -looks like it. You must awaken her if you can. -I don't wish to use heroic means."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I have," I said, "I am not aware of it. -But let me talk to her. And if you please I would -rather only Marget stayed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely," he said nodding. "If she wakens -we want no one with her but you. And you'll -just keep her thinking she's at her old place by the -dairy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I sat down by her, taking her hand in the old -way. She was smiling in her sleep. Then I -said laughingly in her ear, slapping her cheek with -the back of my hand, "Wake up, little Heart's -Ease; we are going to the spring. It's Jack. I -will not go unless you go with me, to gather the -Bluebells of Scotland on the hills—come—wake up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly she sat up, her blue eyes resting -calmly on me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," she said, putting her arms about my -neck, "I had wondered—I have worried because—for -so long a time I seem not to be able to -remember—where you were."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I laughed. "Nonsense; you have only -dreamed a bad dream last night," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marget was bustling around the room -pretending to clean up. Her voice choked so that -she could scarcely speak and yet she said bravely, -"Surely, Elsie. It is as Mr. Jack says. You've -been sick a little and had bad dreams."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie clung to me sobbing. "Jack, my bonny -Jack," she said, "it's good of you, but I am all -right now; I am strong again, so much stronger -than you would ever believe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must not let yourself think of anything -unpleasant," I said quietly, "for my sake now, -Elsie, and daddy's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't, Jack," she said with all her old -frank candor, "with you here. It all came -because I thought you were gone. Call Daddy in," -she said firmly, "I want to talk to you all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff was already in the room, the smile -on his face telling of his great joy. He knelt by -the bedside, kissing her. He was laughing -boyishly. "Bless me, but my Lady Elsie is feeling -fine, isn't she?" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elsie nodded happily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you and I have been so blind, Daddy," -she said, laying her hand on mine. "So blind, -both of us. Now, you know what we are going -to do? I am going to be very strong and well in -a few days and then we are all going to our English -home, you and me, Marget and Tammas, and we -are going to find Eloise. Find her, Daddy, and -make her well—for Jack—if it takes half of -all that earldom of yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Goff kissed her again and again, and -reaching out, gripped my hand. "Thank God, -Jack! Elsie," he added, "you're not to talk -now, but sleep again. I'll do as you say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now look here," she said in her old teasing -way, "don't you for a moment—don't you try -any funny things on me. I'm as well as any of -you, and I'm going to get up, right soon. And I -don't want ever to hear of that dream I had -again," she said, raising a commanding little finger -at us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have both been very foolish, Daddy, you -and me," she went on, "foolish and unseeing; but -now we're both going to be very sensible and -brave, so you'll all go out but Marget, and -Mr. Jack." She turned to me, her eyes smiling in -the old way, "You'll kiss me good-by now till -you come to see us at Carfax Hall—you -and—and—" She clasped my neck, kissing me quickly, -"Good-by, my bonny, bonny Prince! I'll bring -her back to you, see if I don't!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-call-of-the-drum"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE CALL OF THE DRUM</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Tennessee troops were to make a last -parade before leaving for the war in the Philippines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the night before they left a strange, weird -feeling had been upon me. For hours I could -not sleep, and when I did it seemed as if I were -going down a dimly remembered path, hearing a -far-off call in far-away mountains, the battle cry -of my ancient Aryan people rallying against the -Mongrel and the Mongol. Then I awoke with -the fire of battle in my heart and the hot sweat of -the conflict beaded over my face, to call it a dream. -But it was no dream. There are dreams, and -there is that which is more than dreams. There -is the spirit's walk into wayside lands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I rose and dressed. I went out for calmness -among my trees. They had been my friends, my -thousand-voiced leaf-whispering friends. But in -this strange feeling, this fighting mood which, -despite all my efforts, had overwhelmed me, I cared -for them no longer. And they scorned me. Not -one leaf whispered to me. I had not one friend -among them. They were no longer my brothers -in green. They were merely trees. My soul had -been torn up to its very roots by the Hand that -had planted it and told to grow into another soul -or die!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Everything I had held to in life had reversed -itself on me. Every star-enthroned truth which -I had worshipped had fallen to earth, a clay idol -to mock me with its grinning lying lips of dirt! -I had been turned out from my home unjustly; -the love of my very life was gone, dead, perhaps; -and Elsie—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing since the tragedy that had fallen to -Eloise had cut into my soul like that nightmare -leap over a rock wall into cold air and the -stinging whirl of yellow water and the glory of her -courage and unselfishness as she had said, "I'll -bring her back to you, Jack—see if I don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And there had been the good-by of Tammas -and Marget. Tammas could not speak, he could -only hold my hand with tears in his eyes. But -Marget spoke, kissing me for the first and last -time. "Ay, but our Jackie, good-by, 'tis God -that stirs up the nest of His eagles. An' so God -bide ye, lad. God bless and God guide ye—for -'tis God that leads ye, Jackie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the cabin Dr. Gottlieb had tried to explain -to me the great book he was writing, which was -called "The Effect of the Insect Pollen-Gatherers -on Flower Life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I would have none of it. I could not listen. -I slipped out, knowing he could read it all night to -the big arm chair I had sat in, and not know it was -empty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The drum was calling to me—I who had been -for peace, for trees, for love, for poems, I knew -I must now fight or my soul would die within me, -die like a Chinese foot in its wooden shoe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saddled Satan and rode over to the Hermitage. -Was it this horse, this brave-souled, unafraid brute -that had sent the fighting spirit into me, since my -first touch of him? For on him I felt that I -could ride over a regiment. I walked alone in the -moonlight over the grounds of the Hermitage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How bulwarked, restful and yet martial-walled -was the old brick mansion! And down the long -avenues of cedars which ran from the gate to the -home, I met the fighting ghosts of my ancestors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was it a dream or not? But what is the difference, -since they are the same. What is the difference?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If a child comes into your home, smiling, from -out the sunshine, is it any more your child than -the one which enters from out the still, dead night, -motherless and homeless, a fantastic waif, but your -very own?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had walked through the old-fashioned garden, -rose bordered and lined with hollyhocks and rare -old pinks that Aunt Rachel loved. And I had -stood bareheaded before the tomb of the old -warrior and his bride. I had gone across the meadow -to the log cabin they had loved best of all....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, very plainly I saw the great fireplace -light up with the blaze of hickory logs, and the -shadows come and go across the smoked rafters -above. And before that fire sat the slim, grim, -sword-faced fighter and lover, with a child on one -knee and a lamb on the other, even as old Parton -had told it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned, smiled, and reaching, took his sword -from the wall behind him and, beckoning to me, -pointed to the west....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I rushed toward him. The solid door met me, -knocking me to my knees on the grass. I arose -stunned, but thrilled. My doubts had gone, the -spirit of Andrew Jackson pointed me the way. -On the grass I knelt for a moment before that hut -which is a shrine. </span><em class="italics">A lamb and a child and the -sword of the Lord and of Gideon: I thank thee, -Lord; for it takes them all to make a man!</em><span> -... I had not slept but had ridden into town -to see the Tennessee troops go by in their last -parade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They came by in battalions, the old battle flag -of Jackson at their head, and beside it rode old -Hawthorne, sitting his horse as gallantly as when -in younger days he rode with Forrest and Morgan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw me, smiled, and saluted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I watched Braxton Bragg go by at the head of -his company, and I saw him look covetously at the -beautiful horse I rode.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Following an old custom, a fife and drum corps -followed. I heard them coming and my blood -leaped fiercely as they marched by, playing "</span><em class="italics">The -Girl I Left Behind Me</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was their last call for enlistment, and as they -passed I stepped in behind the big drum, throwing -my silver dollar into its head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I enlisted for the war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old drummer smiled and nodded, the crowd -cheered—I looked up—Old Hawthorne had -ridden back and sat his horse smiling down on me. -"God bless you, Jack, Jack!" he cried. "Do -you know that I rode back to see you do it? I -knew you would do it—'tis the call of the -drum—the blood of the men of your tribe who could -both pray and fight! Come, you shall be on my -staff. Captain Jack Ballington from the home of -Old Hickory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I smiled. "General, you are good to me, too -good. But let me prove my own worth, if there -is any in me. No soldier was ever made except -by merit. Give me a chance to make myself. I -am going to the war and I am going with you. -But under two conditions: that this horse I am -riding goes with us, is yours. This is Eloise's," I -added softly, "and I loved her. 'Tis the only -horse in Tennessee fit to carry our General. She -gave him to me. I give him to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was silent; he understood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the other is that you give me a rifle in -the ranks." ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After I had enlisted I wanted to see the -homestead again, the hickories that Eloise and I had -loved, and to bid my old grandsire farewell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was sitting under his favorite elm tree -smoking when I rode up. I did not see who was -with him until I had dismounted and stood before -him, hat off, holding my horse's reins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I saw that it was Braxton Bragg who was -talking excitedly and loudly; and I knew that he -had been drinking. He did not speak to me nor -see me. The old man did not know me in the -gathering darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am Jack, Grandfather, Jack Ballington. -And I have come to bid you good-by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Jack—Jack—" he repeated—"and you -are my grandson—ha-ha. I'd about forgotten -it. And you have come to tell me good-by—why -I thought you had gone, somewhere—ha-ha."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard a short laugh from Braxton Bragg. I -saw the sneering smile that was unconcealed in -his face. I turned on him with fighting anger, -cut to the heart. And then I remembered the first -lesson of every soldier is to command himself. -Very calmly I said, "I have not gone far, sir; -only to Dr. Gottlieb's; but to-morrow I am going -to the war. I have enlisted with the First Tennessee, -and I felt that it was my duty, sir, to call -and tell you good-by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly he was on his feet, holding to a crutch -he now carried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going to the war! Enlisted with the First -Tennessee? By God, sir, do you really mean that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am, sir," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pulled me to him and clasped me. "Jack, -Jack, my boy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to Braxton Bragg. "Braxton, now -by God, sir, this boy is indeed my grandson; the -lost has been found, the prodigal has returned! I -knew the old Rutherford blood would redeem him -yet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed happily, still holding me to him. -"Braxton, take him by the hand, for 'by the -Eternal,' as Old Hickory would say, he is the same -blood kin as you, and I am going to give him the -same chance! Hey there, Thomas! Oh, Thomas!" -he called to his old body servant. "Bring me a -light, and paper and pencil! I'll drop a line to -Hawthorne—to put you on his staff as Captain. -And my check book, Thomas! By God, sir—Jack—my -grandson, Jack, I'll give you a little -ready money, only a thousand dollars to see that -you go like a soldier and a Rutherford—ha-ha—damn -him, I knew he'd do it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going as a private, Grandfather; General -Hawthorne has already offered me the rank you -suggest—but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You damned mooning fool, you shall not do -it!" he cried. "No Rutherford ever went to any -war a private. Tut—tut—I'll fix that. You -are now my grandson, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His voice fell. He spoke through tears. -"Your mother, Jack—Emily—ay, my boy—I -can see her now with her sweet dreamy eyes of -poetry, the finely chiseled half sad face of religion, -the heart of romance and of sorrow. I loved her -best of them all—Jack—and you are her -son—my grandson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandfather," I said, "I thank you, and I -shall try to be worthy of you and of my mother -and my father who died a gentleman. But I shall -ask only for this horse, for our General to ride, -and that he shall be near me, for I promised -Eloise I would always care for him. She gave -him to me," I added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly Braxton Bragg was on his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eloise never owned him. Why, it's what I -have come by for, Grandfather. What you had -just promised me I could have when he rode up." He -came up to me, catching at the reins. "No -sir, you shall never ride him off this place, he is -mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My grandfather rose and stood between us. -"Sit down, Braxton Bragg," he said angrily. -"You've been drinking and you've not too much -sense when you are sober. Now, I had forgotten—I -forget so much of late: come to think of it, -it was Eloise's horse, no one else could touch him, -and the way that girl could ride him—no—no—if -she gave him to Jack he shall have him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has lied," Braxton Bragg cried, pushing -the old man angrily aside to shoulder up to me. -"He is lying. She didn't give him the horse—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My fist shut the rest of his words in his mouth. -I felt the cut of his teeth where my knuckles -struck them as I sent him suddenly full length on -the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tried to rise, drawing his Colt's. But my -grandfather struck it from his hand with his -crutch, knocking the weapon across the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cursing he tried to rise, but I was on him, my -knee on his breast, his two arms pinned to the -ground.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 77%" id="figure-50"> -<span id="i-was-on-him-my-knee-on-his-breast"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="I WAS ON HIM, MY KNEE ON HIS BREAST." src="images/img-244.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">I WAS ON HIM, MY KNEE ON HIS BREAST.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandfather," I said, "I don't want to hurt -him, but you heard him give me the lie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did," said the old man grimly. "I did, -and I waited to see if you would strike. If you -had not, I was going to knock you down with my -crutch! Mount your horse and go to war, Jack -Ballington, my grandson; for by the living God -I know now I'll have a fighter in that war worthy -the name of Rutherford when this cur turns -coward and quits!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-first-tennessee"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE FIRST TENNESSEE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I do not know where you are, Eloise. I do not -even know that you are alive; but if you are, I -have the promise of Aunt Lucretia that this letter -shall go to you; and Aunt Lucretia, you know, does -not break her promises.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And if you be dead, Dear Heart, as I do deep -in my mind fear, for I have not heard from you, -nor Aunt Lucretia since that June day was turned -into December in a night—that day when I went -to the old familiar, sweet places, to find no longer -there her who had made them sweet—why, what -matters so much? For the passing of the soul of -a dear one, when we see that it is passed, is such a -natural thing at last, such a little change to make -so great a transition! While they lived and life -looked full and wholesome, it all seemed so large, -their life and ours. But they go in a night, in a -breath's draught. And then we see how small it -was: a little finger-width zone across the world -of things. A little too much heat, a little too -much cold, a tiny vein broken, a severed cord, -and it is whiffed out. Even in the fullness of -strength and brave life a dash at bars on a great -game horse....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Forgive me, dear one, if you be alive to read -this; for I would not remind you now of a time -you were different. 'Tis God's way, and since -He has kept in my heart my love of you, and -through your accident showed me your love for -me, have we not His two greatest gifts for our very -own?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as to that other world, do you know what -instinct tells me it is? That there we will have -a hundred senses where we now have but five; -and there we shall see the Thought as well as the -Thing: every thought, every dream, every hope, -every love, these we know not as words but as -beautiful beings whom we shall meet face to face. -And its only law is Balance, Compensation, -Recompense, Poise; the Equation of the Universe. We -wonder here why there should be such things as -sin and sorrow and injustice. But there we shall -know that sin is not sin, but the prism which shows -us goodness, that sorrow is not sorrow but the -prism of gladness, and that death, as we now know -it, is not a stopping, but the prism through which -we see another light. Here, on our little earth, -with only our five small senses, we see only the -prism. There we shall see the rays. It is the -difference between the star and its light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And if we hold the prism of sorrow here, Dear -Heart, as I do now, shall I not hold a handful -of the joys which stream through it there? For -here 'tis a poem written, but there the meaning -of it. Here 'tis the sun rising, there the dawn. -Here the giving of alms, there the joy of the -giving. Here it is the instrument that makes music, -there the music. Here 'tis only a picture, there -the soul that made it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And if you be passed, Eloise, if you be passed, -even yet will I keep writing to you. For if -letters be written with one's heart's blood, I know, in -my soul of souls, that our dead will read them. -For though I have lived but a little while according -to the span of things, and less according to -the knowledge of things, yet the little span -and the little knowledge have made known to me -the greatest of all truths: </span><em class="italics">that I do not know</em><span>: -that even with my little knowing I have seen things -come to pass which were more wonderful than -those which I thought could ever be; that we live -on the borderland of a world wonderful, -mysterious; that we are clasping hands with eternity, -and need only the language that will yet come -to spell out the touch for us. And so I shall -write to you even though you are dead, write -to you, sweetheart, a love letter for your heaven, -knowing that not only will you read it, but that -I, in the writing, as in all giving, will at last be -the one who will get.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is selfishness in me at last, Eloise, selfishness -that I may hold through life and forever this -love of you in my heart, now that it has only -memory and not your own sweet self to live on. -And no greater love and more constant can there -be than that which lives on memory. For the -living-love, being flesh, must change with the -years. But memory-love, being eternal, can never -change.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I am at Iloilo; and the gap is great since that -long ago June, that June of Tennessee blue grass -and roses, and the old home and you, sweetheart.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There is little to tell of my leaving; of my -quick decision to fight for my country and for -you, Eloise. For, cast from my father's house -there was nothing left but my country's, and losing -the love of my kindred there was only your own -great love left me, yours and my country's. For -these I am fighting. But at the last—I know -you will want to hear it all—at the last our old -grandsire seemed strangely touched, and the -memory of it has burned my heart, once strangely -amid flying Filipino bullets on the firing line, and -once amid the thunders of the great thirteen-inch -guns from the Monadnoc. And right glad I -believe he will be when he learns, that though he -called me a fool for refusing a soft place as aide -to dear old Hawthorne, and a greater fool because -I refused a commission which he himself could -have got for me for the asking, and took a musket -in the ranks instead, that I have risen from a -private to the Captaincy of the crack company of -the First Tennessee. So say the Regulars of the -Bloody Fourth that we backed to a fight to the -death against the Filipino trenches. So says old -Hawthorne himself—God's blessing on his old -white head!—now commanding our brigade, who -led us in with the rebel yell in his throat! And -riding Satan, Dear Heart; cannot you see the -picture, such a man on such a horse! And you should -have seen how Satan loves the firing line and -how he hates the smell of a Filipino and his pony!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But this story must be told straight even in a -love letter to my unseen love in an unknown land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I left home I only took my father's sword -and Satan. I took him because of my love of -you, and that old Hawthorne, our General, might -have a horse to ride into battle that should be -worthy of his rider. For if you have ever thought -of it, sweetheart, you will know that no great -soldier ever owned a mean horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I joined a company of the First Tennessee. -In the company next to me was Braxton Bragg, -commanding it by the influence of our old grandsire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My first promotion came in San Francisco, where -we camped for a month before sailing for Manila, -via Honolulu. Our Captain was a Tennessee -lawyer who knew little of the game. It was I who -drilled the company, my German work stood me -in good stead, and we won on dress parade drill. -We were the best drilled company of the First -Tennessee. Then our Captain resigned to practice -law in San Francisco, and I was made First Lieutenant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We dropped anchor off the city of Manila, -November 28. It was an inspiring sight as we sailed -into the Bay, to see the sunken Spanish ships, and -Dewey's flag ship with Old Glory flying, -proclaiming Republican Liberty for the first time to -the waters of the great Far East.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our first fight came early in February. We had -lain outside of the walled city on the Lunetta -Driveway for nearly three months. We knew that -Aguinaldo, with eighty thousand men, armed with -guns we had given him, and those of the Spanish, -was in our front, feeling his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was nine o'clock Saturday night, February -4th, when the attack began. We heard shots -from the enemy, then three in rapid succession -from our pickets. It meant help. The men, who -had been grumbling for three months for fear -they would have to go back home without a scrap, -sprang like school boys to a playground. Then -the front lit up with a crackle of fire. Our rear -was another sheet of it from the fleet in the bay, -firing over our heads.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a hot fighting front, the First Colorado, -Tenth Pennsylvania, Thirteenth Minnesota, -Fifty-First Iowa, and First North Dakota standing the -brunt. We chafed all night, standing in line down -by the beach, away in the rear, the very base of -our half-circle battle line. All night we stood -hoping that we might go into it before it was over, -our blood stirred by the battle and roar in front, -and the thunder behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At breakfast Sunday morning we still stood in -line, expectant, keyed to a fiddle's string, eager. -The cook passed our Sunday fare up the line, -chicken and hot coffee. How little things stick in -excitement! Then we saw a courier come out of -the smoke and flame, and old Hawthorne rode -Satan to our front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Boys," he said quietly, "they have asked us -to take the Filipino trenches, and we are going to -take them. Attention, regiment! right shoulder -arms, fours right, march!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A Utah battery and the Nebraska boys -supported us as we charged over San Juan bridge -under fire and across a rice field.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We kept step to the </span><em class="italics">boom—boom—boom</em><span>—of -the thirteen-inch shells firing over us from the -guns of the Monadnoc. Down the bloody lane -we charged, the bullets humming like hornets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, boys," said a man in my company, -"listen how they hum!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An old sergeant of the Regulars passed us, -going to the rear. He was binding a handkerchief -around his arm, from which the blood was squirting. -But he laughed and called to us, "Oh, don't -worry about those that you hear humming—them -you hear won't hurt you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the trenches grinned in our front, spitting -fire. We prepared to charge. Behind us were -Regulars, and in the crisis of it all I saw Braxton -Bragg. I hate to write this of the blood of a -Rutherford. My shame, my sorrow was greater -than his. His nerve had simply left him. He -had got down from the hissing bullets behind a -sandhill. He had quit before his own men. -They did not shoot him, they did not have time; -they charged with me, backing my own company. -It was a quick rush and soon over. The Filipinos -left their breakfast of rice in the trenches. But -we left some of our bravest there, too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But battered and tired as we were, the real fight -was just on. In sweeping the Filipinos out of -their trenches we had hurled them to the left on -our own water-works that supplied the city and -the army. If these were held by the Filipinos -and our supply cut off our fight would be in vain. -It is said that twenty thousand of them stood -between our water and our line. Luck again was -with us. The First Tennessee happened to be -nearest to them and it was we who cut through, -and only four hundred, a battalion, at that. In -a quick bloody charge we took the works. Old -Hawthorne and Satan led us as if on dress parade, -a target for twenty thousand Filipino rifles, and -not a bullet touched them. With cheers we -followed the white hair of the old Confederate on -his black horse with the north star on his head. -We were holding a perilous place, for we were in -the rear of the Filipino army, with our backs -against the water-tanks, and foes in front and rear. -But we held it for two days until help came. -And the first battalion and third battalion had -equally as good a record when the fighting was -over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A week afterwards old Hawthorne came to my -tent. He was holding a telegram from the -Secretary of War. "Jack," he said, "I am a Major -General, and you are the Captain of Braxton -Bragg's company. The boys of it wired petitions -and elected you. They said you led them twice to -victory. They want you to lead them always."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our hardest fight was at Iloilo last week. We -took the city, but once out of the water we had -to fight down barricaded walls, hemmed in and -shot at from walls and house tops. For two hours -we were busier than a bull-terrier in a den of cats. -They were the best fighters we struck. They were -officered, we learned, by the brave and brainy little -Japs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the Lapaz sugar mill they tried to cut off -some of the Regulars. We were nearest. It was -merely our luck. Any other regiment would have -cut through the enemy to save their comrades. -At Naglocan they made a stand and there we -finished them.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That was written a month ago. I will finish -and let it all go together, finding you if it can; -and if not, well my heart has found yours -somewhere, sweetheart; in the writing my thoughts -have met, somewhere, yours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stay and hold Iloilo, but General Hawthorne -with a battalion of our boys went a month -ago to Cebu to help out the Twenty-third regiment -of Regulars who were hemmed up there in the -mountains and fighting for their lives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Would you like to hear how close I came to -death yesterday, and not on the firing line at -that? It was a nasty close call I had and the -horror of it still twangs on my nerves. It is that, -and not knowing what the morrow may bring, that -has brought me to the writing of this last love -letter should either of us pass into the shadow of -things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the nearby Island of Mindanao live the -savage fanatics, the Moros. These people have been -a terror to the Spaniards and are the nightmare -of our own men. They are Mohammedans, and -the fiercest, most treacherous fighters of all the -Philippine Islands. They cannot be civilized, -they cannot be conquered, they can only be killed. -There is a bloody tradition about them and the -Spaniards; how, hemmed up for slaughter, when -their warriors have all fallen, the women have -been known to rush on the Spanish lines with their -babes in their arms, and, as the Spaniards would -meet them with their bayonets, hurl their babes -onto the steel, blocking both it and the fire -behind it, and cut down the soldiers with the deadly -</span><em class="italics">borangs</em><span> of their dead husbands. Then there with -their babes on the bayonets they would die.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of these Moros, there is one the soldier dreads -more than the firing line of death, more than the -panther that springs at night, or the rattlesnake -that strikes in the grass. It is the </span><em class="italics">Juramentado</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When one of the Moros is adjudged guilty of -thieving, impurity or half a hundred other crimes -and sentenced to death he becomes a </span><em class="italics">Juramentado</em><span>. -Strange, mystic ceremonies are performed over -him by the priest in the black wood of the black -night. Cruel tortures are inflicted; his head, face, -eyebrows, and mustache are shaved clean, his face -painted, his body left half naked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is but one atonement for him. He must -kill as many Christians as he can before dying -himself. Dying in the act he is transplanted to -Paradise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They are great sailors and are liable to run -amuck and then float out to distant places, to any -place where they can find a Christian. Stealthily -they creep into a camp, or town, or church, or -wherever there is a gathering. Their keen </span><em class="italics">borang</em><span> -is sheathed between two bamboo reeds; its blade is -a razor, its weight that of lead. With a blow -they have cut heads clean from shoulders, or split -a soldier from neck to hip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a word they will turn in a crowd and kill -all those around them. The Spaniards tell how -five of these fanatics slipped up to a company of -their men peacefully, and then in sudden frenzy -killed nineteen soldiers before they could shoot -them down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our orders are strict concerning them: a soldier -must never be out of lines without his side -arms. And so nameless a danger is in their very -name that it is the unwritten law of the camp to -courtmartial any soldier who cries out for a joke, -</span><em class="italics">Juramentado</em><span>!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was visiting the camp of the Regulars and as -I went through the gate a file passed out for guard -mounting. A </span><em class="italics">Juramentado</em><span> had paddled over -from Mindanao, slipped in, and suddenly attacked -a soldier of the Eighteenth Regulars, as he was -returning on a pony from some duty. The first -blow of the </span><em class="italics">borang</em><span> took off the man's arm at -the shoulder. Clapping spurs to his pony he -rushed for the main entrance just as I passed out, -with the file of soldiers behind me. In an instant -the frenzied, howling, painted thing was on us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard the officer in charge cry "fire," and -a dozen Krags snarled their smokeless call, sending -twelve steel-jacketed bullets into the charging -demon whose painted face, and sharp black teeth -were grinning like a wolf in my very face, and -whose </span><em class="italics">borang</em><span> was at my throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bugler got him with his Colt's 45. Twelve -steel bullets had cut twelve clean pin-point holes -through him, and not one had stopped him, not -being in the brain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Krag is a failure. It shoots too clean and -hard to kill quick. That old time Colt 45 saved -my life. I saw the dead snarling thing all night. -When I waked his black painted teeth grinned in -my face. I was never un-nerved before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so I am writing you, Dear Heart, for I -realize now how near to death I have been, how -nearer I may yet be. And maybe another thing -makes me write to-night. It is such a story as -Clarke, our First Lieutenant, has brought back -to me to-night. It has set me to dreaming, and -made the camp and men and guns sleeping under -the mango trees seem like ghosts from another -land. Like ghosts, Dear Heart, for in the dream -which is always more real than the real, it is you -and Old Tennessee that I see to-night, not -slumbering guns under mango trees, nor tropical -mountain tops, smoking mistily to the moonlighted -skies, nor the palm trees, sentineling the ghostly -beach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clarke has filled my thoughts to overflowing -to-night. So I have left him and the sleeping camp. -And I lie alone on the beach looking across the -ocean toward home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He told of a girl in Cebu, where our main -hospital is, one of the Red Cross nurses from the -States. She came over a month ago. Clarke has -talked of her till I can see only you. If I did -not know you were ill I'd swear it could be only -you, peerless, bravest, gamest, most beautiful -woman that ever was. She is a trained nurse, but -she rode with old Hawthorne, rode Satan, too, to -the relief of the Twenty-third Regulars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Who could have done what she did but you -and Satan, clear a ten-foot fissure of a yawning -volcanic abyss, outfooting the Filipino ponies -when they thought they had cut her off? And her -shooting! Again I saw the brown stubble of -Tennessee wheatfields, the blue hills circling the sky -line, the flush and whir and the crack of the sweet -little twenty gauge! If you are not dead or in -the hospital it was you—the only one in all the -world—there can be no other!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I shall not see her, for we leave for the -States in the fall. They are sending other boys -to relieve us, others who want to serve their country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shall go home then to my work. I shall take -up the life I left, the life of labor and of love, of -love, Dear Heart, love of all loves, love of a -Memory. And now good-night and for my pen, -good-by, Eloise! ...</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-battle-in-the-bacaue-mountains"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE BATTLE IN THE BACAUE MOUNTAINS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I wrote you last from Iloilo, but no word has -come back to me. And toward the late fall, our -term of service having expired, and so many others -crowding for a chance to serve, we were mustered -out and ordered home. The big transport Indiana -stood by for our home-taking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was good news for the boys, but sad for me. -They were going home to wife or sweetheart, but -I had no home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is one great thing about war, the steel -it puts into the heart to stand things, to die -smiling and unafraid, to take life as a battle, and fight -it out on the firing line. There are many living, -but few on the firing line of life. They think they -are soldiers, but they are sutlers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a short time we sighted Cebu. Our General, -Hawthorne, and a battalion of us were there, -as I wrote you before, sent to help out the -Regulars. We were ordered to pick up this -battalion; it completed what was left of the First -Tennessee, for some would sleep forever under -far-off Pacific skies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cebu is a little city on the island of the same -name in the center tier of the Archipelago. Bitter -and desperate are the inhabitants and savage in -the extreme, and to take the place has cost us a -hard battle; and to hold it almost cost the life of -the Twenty-third, for they had been cut off in the -mountains and all but lost when Hawthorne came -to their aid, three months before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is a long narrow island with a backbone of -volcanic mountains, in the recesses of which live a -race of savage fighters who do not quibble to rush, -half naked, and with bolos and spears, upon lines -of steel and Gatlings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their mountain fastnesses are all but impregnable. -The volcanic mountains run sheer up -straight and the level plateaus yawn with the most -dangerous and sudden chasms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here were the forts and fortifications of the -savage Insurgents, and here they had again -threatened portions of the Sixth, Nineteenth and -Twenty-third Regulars under General Snyder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was night when we heard it; we had anchored -and prepared to take General Hawthorne and our -boys on the homeward journey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then like a bolt came the news: portions of the -Nineteenth Regulars were surrounded and cut off -in the mountains by ten thousand yellow savages. -They were doomed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Hawthorne and his battalion, instead of -being on the beach to embark for home, had -already gone back to the mountains to fight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I drew up our men in line of dress parade on -the Indiana's decks. "Men," I said, "we have -been mustered out! We are no longer soldiers but -citizens of the Republic, homeward bound, with all -it means to every man of you who has done his -duty as you all have. No man of you may be -ordered to go one step from this transport's deck till -you reach your own land. But news has come -that the enemy has attacked and cut off our -comrades. Our General and a small battalion have -already gone to their aid. I ask no man to follow -me. I am going, and every man who would go -with me take two steps forward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The First Tennessee to a man moved two steps -forward on the deck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At daybreak we were off for the mountains -eight miles away. All forenoon we marched -under the hot sun, passed mango trees and squalid -huts over ashes of dead volcanoes. We established -headquarters on Elpado Mountain across -the Labanyon Valley. Along the low mountains -in our front ran the forts of the Filipinos, a rude -fringe to the crest of the hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A detachment of the Sixth and Nineteenth -Regulars had been over-daring. They had got in -behind the enemy, and being a new regiment sent -to relieve us, they had not known the true -situation. They were surrounded in front and rear. -It was for us to cut through to them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They are peculiar little mountains. Volcanic in -origin they have been shaken by earthquakes until -often their sides are precipices; on top there are -narrow plateaus, and along their whole length -bristle the savage fortifications.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There we found old Hawthorne waiting for us. -He knew we would come!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At his word we began the ascent. It was a hand -over hand climb, from rock to rock, from scrub -to scrub, with a spear or a bolo at any time from -above or behind any rock. And at unlooked for -intervals would come avalanches of rock and -volcanic stones, rolled down by the savages above.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was five hundred feet up, but it took us all -the afternoon to reach the first plateau, and half -the night to derrick our cannon up with rope and -pulley. The tired men had had no sleep for -eighteen hours and at daylight they must fight. -We camped within three hundred and fifty yards -of their fortifications, with all lights out. We -made the assault at daylight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our guns knocked their forts down around their -ears and when we charged they went over the -other ridge to the last line of what was left of the -forts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the bloodiest angle of it when I came back to -report to the General our burying squad was -already busy:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This," said a tough old sergeant to me as he -pointed to their dead piled up, "is a cordwood of -good Filipinos."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such are the genialities of war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our fiercest fighting was before us. Hand -over hand and holding to trees we went up to the -next fort in an avalanche of stones, arrows, bolos, -and spears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We fought from rock to rock. Often a Krag -or a Colt would speak straight up, and a dead -Filipino would come vaulting down to our feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again came the derricking of guns. Then we -went through a deep aisle where only one man -could rush in at a time, with Filipino sharp-shooters -above us. But our last fight cut them from -our front and we reached the Regulars. They -had held their place and escaped death only -because they had lain for two days in an old fissure -with empty shells beside it and canteens as dry as -the old volcano. But weak as they were they -charged with us after the Filipinos, scattering them -like mountain goats over the hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a tropic moon that tropic night. -The Mango trees circled the farther mountain -sides and the bamboos stood in groups in the -valley below. The kingly palms towered high over -all. The weird tropic night sounds were borne to -us on the breeze. The tired battle line of my -brave boys lolled by camp fires in one long line -of sentinel light with the last wrecked forts of the -beaten enemy at their backs. The field guns, -rapid of fire, poked their long blue noses out -into the night. "Still smellin' for the varmints -loike blood houns for nagurs," said Moriarty, our -fighting Irishman, and the wit of the regiment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he would walk over and pet the blue steel -beauties, for they were his. Moriarty it was who -had brought them over mountain side and -</span><em class="italics">crevasses</em><span> where no man dreamed they could go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' it's aisy it is," he would laugh and say -when I praised him to his face. "It's aisy, -Cap'n; I've done nothin' but pet 'em, an' so they -jus' foller me loike dogs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half a mile out a line of pickets faced the way -the beaten enemy had fled. Our fighting was -over. Cebu's island would no longer be troubled -with Insurgents. And the next day would be the -Indiana and home!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our General had thrown off his sword belt and -come over to my camp, and together we had -smoked and talked of home and the war, of -everything but you, sweetheart. But when he left he -smiled and said a puzzling thing to me. "I've -a surprise for you to-morrow, at Cebu, Jack, that -will knock the war and even the homegoing out -of your head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he twisted his gray mustache and smiled -delightedly. Had the old man, as we all loved -to call him, received word of another promotion -for me, I wondered. For myself I wanted no -more war. I wanted only you, Eloise, -somewhere, somehow, living; or the memory of you -amid my own Tennessee trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"General," I said, "there are worthier men -here than I for any promotion you may have. I -will go back to my land and my work; but if you -could arrange for Moriarty here—" I added, -pointing to the game little Irishman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Pat's fixed already," he answered. "He -has brought these guns over hills, through fissures, -and the walls of hell. He'll be First Lieutenant -in the regular army as soon as I can wire this day's -work to the President. But you, Jack,—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I pressed his hand. "General, dear General, -believe me, I want nothing more, nothing but a -chance to work and make a home in Tennessee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was serious almost to that old gripping in -the throat. But he laughed and pressed my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-morrow, Jack, to-morrow! You are tired -now; I want you to sleep. You have earned your -reward this day, my boy, and it shall be yours -to-morrow, a promotion that you will love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I followed him to his own tent door. A black -horse stood haltered near by, saddled as he had -been for two days and nights.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took the General's whistle, the one I had used -to train Satan to my call in the old days, and which -on the firing line the General himself used in calls -for his aides and orderlies. I blew softly the -three blasts I had taught him to know in the forest. -He had not seen me for months. He did not -know I was there; but his head went up quickly -with the old devil fire in his eyes. The next -minute he had thrown his great weight back on the -halter, snapping it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His head was on my shoulder, and he was whinnying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The General laughed. "It beats the world, -Jack, that horse's love for you. Take him to your -own tent to-night, he'll rage like a hyena around -here all night, now that he knows you are here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was true. But tethered at my own camp he -was quiet. The confusion had been so great and -my men were so scattered that when I came back -I ordered Moriarty to call the roll before taps. -He came back quickly with word that Ross and -Billings of our company were absent. I was -surprised. Investigation among the men, tired and -half asleep, showed that they had not stopped -when we took the last fort, but had been swept on -with a squad of the Regulars after the flying -Filipinos, carried away with the excitement of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I went quickly to the bivouac of the Regulars. -They remembered the two men, but thought they -had returned, as they went off toward the right -of the little village Colena, two miles in our front -and through which the enemy had fled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If they aren't here now," said an old sergeant, -"no use to look for 'em again; when we come -back through that village, there wasn't a sound, -not a kid, nor a chicken, nor a coon, nor a dog; and -when you don't hear nothin' in a Filipino village, -when you go through, look out for hell when you -come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked at my watch. It had been full three -hours since the Regulars had returned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going after them," I said, turning to go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ballington," it was the swarthy old Captain, -of the Nineteenth who spoke, "you'd be a fool to -risk it." He pointed silently to a faint glow across -the valley on the side of the mountain beyond. I -had thought it was a rising star. "Yonder," he -said, "see that other one on the mountain top, -that's the signal fire of the little yellow hyenas, -that means guerrilla bands in them mountains, they -go in packs like wolves, and the night is their time. -They know every foot of the mountain, every -gorge, valley and </span><em class="italics">crevasse</em><span>. Why, two men lost -over there ain't got no more show than a pair of -fool goats in a jungle. Why, if them little hyenas -couldn't see 'em, which they can—for they see -better by night than by day—they can smell 'em, -like all jungle breeds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Boy," he said again, looking at me kindly and -smiling an apology for the title which we both -bore, "I wouldn't let you go. I'd go to old -Hawthorne and have you arrested first. You -Tennessee fellows," he said, laying his big rough hand -on my shoulder, "have done the whitest thing ever -done in this war. It ain't often we old Regulars -that never go home and have to serve 'till the last -taps, takes much notice of you volunteer fellows -that fights awhile for fun and quits when the time -is up; but when you biled out of that transport and -came over them mountains an' cut through to us, -you done a thing that'll warm the cockles of our -boys till the last tattoo and the taps. Now I -ain't goin' to let you go out there in no such fool -thing. I'm an old soldier, I fought with Miles -and Cook on the plains, and I tell you now, Sitting -Bull and his Sioux were lambs to them little -mountain savages. You go back now," he said -kindly, taking my hand in his own, "go back and -go to sleep. You are a boy yet, though you proved -you are full grown to-day, my lad, and ain't -even got up a beard. Of course you have got -a sweetheart waiting in Tennessee. Go back to -her, and the next year send old Brawley of the -Nineteenth a picture of her and the kid. He ain't -never had no time to marry, it's been fighting all his -life with him from hell to breakfast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I smiled, saluted, and went back to camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moriarty was waiting for me, and, when -Moriarty does not smile, I know what to expect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cap'n," he said, "it's not Moriarty that can -sleep peaceful the night till we find them, dead or -alive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I, too, if you please, Cap'n," said Davis, -my corporal, who had been listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no need for a call then, men," I said, -"we three will go down to the village, we will -doubtless find them near it. A Krag for rapid -firing and two Colts each," I added, "and plenty -of shells. Don't let the other men know; we'll -be back by midnight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we slipped out of the lines of camp I saw -a thing that touched me. Moriarty had stopped -at the long, slim, blue-barreled rapid fire and for a -moment, lingering over it, one arm around it, he -laid his cheek against its lips. It was Moriarty's -farewell kiss to the only bride he had ever known.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-juramentados"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE JURAMENTADOS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There was a mistiness among the mango trees -as we went out into the moonlight. It was a mist -from the ocean, but it made an uncanny milkiness -in the air, which seemed to cling to the long -dew-damp leaves of the tropic trees as we descended -into the Labanyon Valley; and that queer -uncanniness stayed with me. I could not throw it off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the picket line I left a note to be carried -back with the relief. It was to my First Lieutenant, -explaining my absence and stating that, if I -were not back by daylight, he was to assume the -command. And if, before daylight, he heard any -continual rapid fire, he was to send the company -to the sound of it, for it would mean that we -needed help.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The picket would be relieved at midnight. I -asked him not to awaken Lieutenant Clarke until -then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Captain," said the picket, touching his cap, -"excuse me, but if you weren't here I'd arrest -Moriarty and Davis and send them back into -camp. 'Tis a fool thing they are doing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what about our comrades out there, cut -off, doubtless, and surrounded by these savages?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why not take a company?" he asked -respectfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'd be butchered," said Moriarty. "It's -the three of us slippin' around an' nosin' in that -can save 'em if we find 'em. And with these -rifles and six Colts we'll be all of a company for -arrows and bolos."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look," said the sentinel, "do you see that?" -He pointed to a dim red star, glowing just above -the mountain top. "That's a signal fire—and -that, and that. Captain," he pleaded earnestly, -"go back and let the boys all go with you. It's -a fool thing, but if you will go—now listen—when -I hear you shoot, if shooting is on, I am -going to fire and waken the camp; the boys will -want to come to your relief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moriarty laughed. "Now don't let your old -gun go off too suddent loike. We'll be back -without firin' a shot!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I, Eloise, as I went down into that valley, -became for a moment all but a weakling when -I thought of you! We went quietly out into the -moonlight, slipping along from the shadow of one -great mango to another. Sometimes these trees -made a continuous shadow—so thick they -were—and our going was easy. But when we -emerged into a moonlit space we stooped and -crawled through the high grass, for we were an -easy target for their sharpshooters on the peaks -above.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were fully a mile from camp before we -crossed a </span><em class="italics">crevasse</em><span>, about twelve feet wide, spanned -by a culvert or small bridge. I remember noticing -the little bridge and thinking that if it should be -burnt by the enemy in our rear, we would never be -likely to get back into our camp again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a Filipino village which lay off to the -left in a mountain gorge, and, scouting carefully -around the side of the mountain, we approached -it over the last one-hundred yards, crawling -through the grass and under mango and cocoanut -trees up to within fifty yards. It lay before us, -a dozen shacks on bamboo cane shocked with the -coarse straw of the rice stalk. The usual squalor -and emptiness was around, but there was not a -sound, not a living thing. Moriarty nudged me. -"There's hell in there somewhere, Cap'n," he -whispered, "it looks too peaceful loike."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a Filipino cur that gave us the first clue. -They are a half wild breed but little beyond the -wild things from which they came. As we lay in -the grass listening, this dog which had come back -for some morsel he knew of, smelt us, and, -barking, bolted down a wooded path to the right. We -saw him clearly as he ran up a hillside and over -into a gorge beyond.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's where we'll find the family," said -Moriarty. "We'll cut around and go into the rear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It took us a good hour to do it, crawling through -bamboo and cane, under mango and desert palm, -through the tall grasses, and over </span><em class="italics">crevasses</em><span>. -Often we lay quiet in them, resting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a weird and unexpected sight that we -saw. Before us lay a little cup in the mountain -gorge, a natural amphitheater, framed by a small -grove of palms and cocoanuts. Savage figures -were going through queer rites.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stopped, puzzled. "That isn't the village -people," whispered Davis. "There are no -women or children there, they are headmen and -warriors, and that is some ceremony they are -performing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We crawled up within fifty yards, and then I -wished I had not come, for Moriarty gripped me -quickly, and pointing to two naked men bound and -laid out on the ground, whispered, "Ross and -Billings!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're too late, Captain, they've been killed -and now they are fixing to mutilate them, cut off -their heads and cut out their hearts and fill their -stomachs with stones."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded. It was the savage's way of mutilating -all our dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We recognized the fighting men easily. There -were dozens of them, squatted in a circle, armed -with </span><em class="italics">bolos</em><span>, </span><em class="italics">borangs</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">spears</em><span>. But in the center -stood a strange figure in a long black robe, his -parted hair hanging down his back. Around him -stood six men, fierce savages, with shaved heads, -and half naked bodies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Juramentado!</em><span>" I whispered. "That's a -Mohammedan priest in the center and he is making -</span><em class="italics">Juramentado</em><span> of the six—look!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard both Davis and Moriarty slip the bolts -of their Krags. To say </span><em class="italics">Juramentado</em><span> to any -soldier was like crying wolf to a shepherd and his -flock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We lay still, seeing the mystic savage rite no -white man ever saw before. We could hear the -words of the priest which, spoken in a mixed -Moro-Spanish, we easily interpreted. The six we soon -learned were Moros from Mindanao and had -sailed over to sacrifice themselves to our army.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was indeed a weird rite he went through, and -strange words he used:—how, if each killed his -Christian before dying, it meant first heaven and -an </span><em class="italics">houri</em><span>; and if two Christians a second heaven -and two </span><em class="italics">houri</em><span>, up to the seventh heaven and a -harem if they died within our lines with seven of -our dead each to his credit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now behead them," he ordered, pointing -to the two American soldiers, "and anoint -your bodies with their blood!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly we saw our error in supposing our -friends were dead, for when the bound soldiers -saw two of the </span><em class="italics">Juramentados</em><span> seize their </span><em class="italics">borangs</em><span>, -each made a violent effort to break his bonds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That priest is mine," said Moriarty, "I've -always loved 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We fired together. The priest, two -</span><em class="italics">Juramentados</em><span>, and five warriors lay dead or dying. -The others were instantly an awakened den of -wolves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I flinch, Eloise, in writing you this, for it brings -the tears even now as I write. Its ending was in -blood and the passing of two I loved as only one -man learns to love another who has backed him -to death in the last ditch. They rushed us quickly, -for their leaders were </span><em class="italics">Juramentados</em><span> and they -never retreat, but like a wounded jungle lion -charge instantly the men who have wounded them. -They were ten to one against us, and fast and -furious was their rush, but, though it was only a -short distance, we bunched, and shoulder to back -shingled the ground with their dead, stopping many -of them, who died at our very feet. The others -swarmed upon us, led by howling </span><em class="italics">Juramentados</em><span>, -until even now I awake at night with their -twanging hyena howl in my ears. Our Colts crackled -fiercely for an instant in their faces. Then Davis -fell and I would have followed him had not -Moriarty, shooting quick and shouldering between -us, blown out the brute's brains with the last shell -in his revolver....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was dazed, bloody, and knocked down into the -fissure at our backs by the glancing </span><em class="italics">borang</em><span> blow -of the last of the </span><em class="italics">Juramentados</em><span>.... When -I came fully to myself I crawled for protection -under an outcropping rock, and none too soon, for -the fanatic above hurled a spear the next instant -that quivered in the spot I had just left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, emboldened by the frenzied </span><em class="italics">Juramentado</em><span>, -and seeking my blood, I saw other heads, peering -from over the fissure side and around boulder and -rock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was protected for a time under the boulder. -I was faint, and hearing running water I drank.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I prayed that I might not faint again. The -wound on my head was a clean cut. "If only I -do not faint again," I kept saying while I bathed -my wound, and, packing my cap with my handkerchief, -pulled it tight over my temples to shut -off the blood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I became calm and indifferent. I marvel -even now to think how undreading of death I was, -feeling that I was so soon to die; undreading, for -in all the queerness of my head and the dizziness -and throbbing and the bitterness of the knowledge -of the unequal fight, I thought always of you -and of Andrew Jackson, who when shot by Dickinson, -clinched his teeth on a bullet to keep from -biting his tongue, clinched, stood, and killed his -man! ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down in that death hole with savages above me -waiting for a chance to brain me or bolo me to -death, I heard—I'll swear I heard Aunt Lucretia -say, "</span><em class="italics">Would Andrew Jackson faint or fight here, -Jack?</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, Eloise, believe me or not, but then I knew -I would not faint again. I crawled further under -the rock, lying flat, face up, and drew both my -Colts....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My belt still held the shells. The fight I had -with myself must have been long, for they found -forty-three empty shells at my side next day.... -I don't remember distinctly what happened, for my -head would spin every now and then and I had to -close my eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I fired twice, thrice... A fool was starting -down to see where I was, a fool, and he met a fool's -fate at my feet... So for hours I shot that way and -none dared to try to come down again, none but one -who suddenly dropped upon me from the left like a -tiger from a cliff, the last of the red painted things -who sought death in order to gain Paradise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He died literally on me; and he died quickly. -He did not know that having killed his companions -with my right, I was on my back with a Colt also -in my left. So died the last of the </span><em class="italics">Juramentados</em><span>....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew this would end it, and I was glad, for I -was beginning to forget, with the fever flame -licking amid the fagots of my brain. I had strange -deliriums.... Æons passed with me wallowing -in the water beneath me, thrusting my burning -head into it and not knowing it.... And then -came the end of the delirium in the great joy of -the volley of shots above me and the cheers of the -First Tennessee. I heard our General telling me -I was all right, and then the dreams returned, for -I saw you on Satan, in </span><em class="italics">khaki</em><span>, riding with the firing -line; and then my head was in your lap, and you -were crying over me and kissing me, before all -the boys. And like one in a nightmare, when -strange things happen, I told them it was not real, -that I was touched of a </span><em class="italics">borang</em><span> in my head, and -was a double weakling for dreaming and then -being such a fool as to weep over a dream. But -they only cheered me and laughed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I remember very distinctly when I awoke in -the hospital at Cebu. It was night and the tropic -moon lay half masted in the sea. I saw the -gunboats out in the bay and Old Glory floating from -fort and mast head. But I did not see the -Indiana. I knew I was feverish and yet so sane, -so sane that it hurt as does all great saneness which -follows a great sleep. Then a sea-gull cried as it -swept past my window, and that lone sea-gull's -cry quite overcame me: for then I remembered my -first dream, and you, and now I awoke and you were -not there.... I turned my face to the wall. -Then I felt someone kneeling by me, her arms -around me, her kisses on my cheek. I heard -someone saying, "Jack, Jack, be still, and be very calm, -for it is I, Eloise, your Eloise. I have nursed you -a month—I have slept by your side, darling, -right here by your side, your own Eloise. And -now it is all right and so sweet that—hold my -hands—Jack—tight—tight Jack—we are -going to say again our little prayer, thanking God -together as of old...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the next day when I was stronger and the -danger had passed, we spent the morning alone in -the little hospital ward holding hands sillily, -talking always, and kissing when we could. And you -told me how it had all been: how Elsie and her -father had found you and taken you home with -them to the great English surgeon who had cured -you: how, knowing I was here in the Philippines -you had come as a trained nurse to be near me: -and how it had been fixed between the General and -you that we were to meet the very day that came -so near being my last. And you told of the -strange dream you had that night, of my call that -seemed to come to you, and how, mounting a -pony and dressed in </span><em class="italics">khaki</em><span> that you might pass the -line as a soldier, you rode to our camp alone -through the night, following the army's path over -the mountain, reaching our last line at daylight, -to find the battalion gone since midnight, to our -rescue. Taking Satan you followed: and it was -Satan and you who found me: for they had -rescued Ross and Billings and found the bodies -of poor Davis and Moriarty, but they could not -find me. All day they had ridden and searched; -and all day, delirious and fever stricken, I had lain -in the fissure under the boulder: and in the still of -the evening, when the boys had all but despaired, -and you, heart-wrung and broken, had rested a -moment in the General's fly, suddenly there came -a strange whistling up the canyon, and Satan had -broken loose going to it, the boys following: and -they had found me in wild delirium, but dreaming -of home and blowing the call of old for Satan -with the whistle I had forgotten was in my pocket. -Even as you told me all this, old Hawthorne -came in with the familiar twinkle in his eye and -bending over me stroked my forehead as my dead -sire would have done, saying, "Well, Colonel -Ballington, how do you feel to-day?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," you cried, "he shall not tell you first! -I hadn't got to that, General. Please let me tell -it all to him, my own self."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The General laughed and nodded, enjoying our -happiness as if it were his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all too good, Jack," you went on, "but -the President himself has appointed you a Colonel -in the regular army. And see—we have saved -it till you wakened—our dear old General and -I—here is the message President McKinley sent -when he heard you had led them from the -Indiana's deck to the rescue of the Regulars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then you read the message yourself, with -tremor and tears:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"No more splendid exhibition of patriotism was ever -shown than was shown a few days ago in the Philippines. -That gallant Tennessee Regiment from our Southern -border, that had been absent from home and family and -friends for more than a year, and was embarked on the -good ship </span><em class="italics">Indiana</em><span> homeward bound—when the enemy -attacked our forces remaining near Cebu, these magnificent -soldiers disembarked from their ship, joined their -comrades on the firing line and achieved a glorious -triumph for American arms. That is an example of -patriotism that should be an inspiration to duty to all of us -in every part of our common country."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"It is good of him," I said, "God bless him—the -sweetest, gentlest man who ever sat in that -chair. But if I get well I am going home and to -my trees."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But still the old General stood smiling, and I -knew there was more to come. And, seeing it, you -came over, smiling funnily yourself, and with little -tears, too; and kneeling, you laid your face against -mine. "Jack, forgive us, it was a mean thing -to do, but you have been married a month to-day -and don't know it! But when we brought you -here, you talked all right—though you were a -little flighty—and begged so hard for me to -marry you then—and—and—somebody had -to sleep right here with you, nursing you day and -night, for the surgeon said it would all be in the -nursing and a mighty poor little chance at -that—Jack—for it was a terrible blow, cutting to -your brain—and you begged so—and—I -didn't want ever to leave you again while you lived, -and after the Chaplain married us holding your -hands in mine and kneeling here just as I am -now—it looked as if marrying had killed you, -Jack—you went down so quickly and deeply into the -valley—and now to see you well—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You were crying in my arms. I could only -kiss you, calling you wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then your old fun came back as of old. "It -wasn't a square deal, Jack—to take advantage -of a sick man like that, and so, well—well, if you -are willing we will call it all off and wait till we -get back home where we will have a grand -wedding at The Home Stretch; for I have been -cheated out of my </span><em class="italics">trousseau</em><span>, and my honeymoon, -my new shoes and the rice that ought to be in my -back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have had make-believe enough," I said, -kissing you again. "That marriage holds and is -good enough for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the home going, overtaking the regiment -at San Francisco and the thunder of guns and -welcoming whistles as we reached our native -Tennessee. And there, amid the great hubbub, and -the welcoming committee as our train rolled in, -stood the old General, my grandsire, holding -back the crowd with his crutch that he might get -to me first, and rattling around on his wooden -leg, shouting to my great embarrassment:—"</span><em class="italics">By -God, there he is—Jack—my grandson, -Jack! I raised him—He's my daughter's son—a -game cock—the old blue hen's chicken!...</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We have it framed now, Eloise, that telegram -from the President.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"EXECUTIVE MANSION,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>WASHINGTON. NOVEMBER 21, 1899.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the Nation's roll of honor is the First Tennessee -Regiment U.S. Volunteers, and nobly has the distinction -been won. Their country's gratitude awaits the -homecoming of these brave men.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>WILLIAM McKINLEY."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Home again, Eloise, Home and June. Born -of the same May mother, but differing so, this -and that other June! How un-of-kin they seem to -be! That last dance, the death ride over the -bars, homeless, the despair of that June a year ago.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now home again and The Home Stretch mine!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>June, and writing this to you as I sit in the old -sweet place under the old sweet trees, under the -hickories we loved so, and afar off is the flush of -old gold above the violet of the western hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the same June sounds come over to me: -the call of an ewe to an errant lamb; the neigh -of a mare and the answering whinny of her colt; -the distant staccato clatter of binders amid the -wheat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And a wood-thrush deep in our laurel thicket -rinsing clear the air around with her liquid notes....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since Christmas I have seen it all, for it was -Christmas when the boys came marching home, -seen it again and again, never tiring of seeing it, -life as it shuttles across the loom of the Middle -Basin. If the canvas were a meadow backgrounded -in green, this is how the picture would -be: a patch of red-bud now and then for early -spring; and later, a green sheen creeping like a -high-tide over the hills. But later still, after the -wheat is harvested it were a stubblefield canvassed -to cleanness; there would run a riot of passion -flowers and morning glories in brave, bold colors -of beauty. And the picture would be June in the -Middle Basin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have sat this afternoon watching the trees -on the round breast of the hill across the way, a -shield of green on the round shoulder of the hill; -and as I looked I had a strange upliftingness -which I knew was of poetry and that it was the -melting of my heart because it was June again and -home and because of the love of you.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why should I potter and make excuse of it? -If there be love there is a poem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Take mine as it is—this voice of the trees—as -the sweetness of it all came over me, listening, -listening and loving you, Eloise.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>WHAT SAY THE BEECHES?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>What say the beeches, heart of my heart?</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>(Comrades we three!)</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Wise in their canopied gallery of art—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Clear-visioned, true, in their cloisters apart</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the life which dwarfs when the soul is the mart</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Of passions set free.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Write it, dear beeches—historian tree—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Write it for me.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>My heart, it hath doubted; my soul, it hath slept.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Alone with the trees and the stars it hath wept,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not knowing the mystery, not seeing the end—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, be to it, beeches—calm beeches—its friend!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For part of the Infinite—you and the stars—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Sing it the Truth with your infinite bars.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The little leaves whisper'd, baby-voiced, low;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The finger-limbs wrote it 'mid starlighted glow:</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Love and believe, and be kind as you go!</em><span>"</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>(O Heart, it is so!)</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Why should you care for me to write of war -and that last bloody fight, now that I am at home -again, and my heart in the melting? Is it because -it takes it all to make life, the melting, the June -days, and the fight?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And why have I written all this, here, at The -Home Stretch, months after it has happened, with -you coming, even as I write it, down the old sweet -path to me, in the old sweet way? Coming to see -if I have finished my letter to you. And I wrote it -because but yesterday you said, "Jack, dear, I -want you to finish that letter you wrote me in the -Philippines, the one you wrote to </span><em class="italics">your love that -was lost</em><span>. Finish it, Jack, this one here at home -for me, in our own home, </span><em class="italics">ours</em><span>, and </span><em class="italics">for your love -that was found!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so I have done it, sweetheart.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="two-of-a-kind"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE BURGEONING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Now burgeons every maze of quick</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>About the flowering squares, and thick</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By ashen roots the violets blow."</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>—Tennyson.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">TWO OF A KIND</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As I said at the beginning, this is my story, and -the telling of it must be in my own way. It does -not satisfy me to end it with our home-coming, -and I hold that no story is complete unless it -satisfies, first of all, him who tells it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why should love stories end at the altar? For -there is that in life which surpasses the altar in -sweetness. It is the hearth. And there is that -which is greater than love making. It is the home -making. And there are those in every marriage -that is a marriage, of far greater worth to the -world—since only through them may the world's -work go on—than the two who joined their lives -at the altar, and they are the children who come -of the marriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If my love for Eloise was great before, it is -greater now, for in the sweet years that have -passed have I not proved it a thousand times, as -hath she, in the little things of life, the -knight-errantries of love, the battle and the gauge that -tests us all daily? And are not the still, calm -depths in the eyes of the wife more satisfying to -the soul than the merry frothy shoals that gleam -so riotously in the eyes of the sweetheart?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No man has truly loved a woman until she has -borne him children; not for the child alone, -uplifting as is the first sight of this tiny sweet seed -of the blossoming of their doubly growing souls, -but as an evidence that there is nothing worth -while in the world except love, since not only does -it create every great, beautiful, sweet dream that -has been given to the world, but even the dreamer -himself!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No man has loved until he has seen the child -of his love. It is not the row-boat of the calm -waters that the sailor loves as his very life, but -the good ship of the mid-seas that holds fast and -true, even in the throes of the tempest, bringing -him to port and to joy in the morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so I have small respect, and a wholesome -contempt for those story-tellers who make of -married love a marred love; who paint its ending -with the coming of children; and who would leave -the wife at the last page waiting for a lover's love -lost in the husband's love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did not know at first what it was that made -Eloise change that first year, from the brilliant, -riding, hunting, dancing Eloise of old to this -thoughtful, beautiful creature who wanted always -to slip off and read Keats by herself, and was -slyly making what I thought were doll clothes for -Little Sister; and when I was most happy with her -to see now and then, through the day, little strange, -unnatural flashes of sadness come into her deep, -thoughtful eyes, and little, queer, unsatisfying -doubts that would creep in. Unknowing, I would -see her watching me; and it would end at night in -our own room with her in my lap in tears and -her arms around me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack! Jack!" she cried. "Oh, I am so foolish; -but are you sure that you will never love -anybody better than you do me, not even your own -child?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How well I remember that day of my greatest -agony and blessing, and the long, long hours in -which her life hung in the balance. I remember -the good old doctor who came first, and then, as -the day wore on, the graveness that settled in his -eyes and the hurried sending to the city for another -one. I walked sorrowfully among the trees, a -coward, a weakling, for the first time in my life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Lucretia was my only comforter, and a -stern, unflinching, rude comforter she was. -"Jack, </span><em class="italics">Colonel</em><span> Ballington, actually wilted, a -weakling, ruined by matrimony and too much love, as -I always said you'd be, if you didn't look out. -Jack, you make me tired; born on this stock farm, -seeing my crop of colts and calves, my spring -lambs, too, and whatnots; the finest and most -high-bred matrons of my paddock, bringing in their -first borns and not a fool doctor in ten miles to -meddle with them and Nature and her ways! And -now Eloise, the gamiest, nerviest, bravest -thoroughbred of them all! You make me tired! -Come, I want to make a man of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seized my arm and led me into the house. -In the library she took down her huge silver -goblet, an international trophy won in France, her -prize for the best merino wool, and then she led -me down into the cellar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had never been in it but once before. It was -cool and damp, its sleepers lined with cobwebs. -She lit a lantern and led me into the farthest, -darkest, cobwebbiest corner. She stood before a small -ten-gallon cask, and said with some show of grim -humor, "Jack, it was fifteen years ago to-day—Did -you know this was an anniversary? Well, -fifteen years ago to-day I brought Eloise here, -adopted her and gave her to you; and that day I -told my old friend, Jack Daniel, to send me this -ten-gallon cask of pure whiskey, to be put away, -and to get good and mellow for just what I knew -would one day happen—the first colt! And now -we are going to tap it in his honor!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">His</em><span> honor, Aunt Lucretia?" I said shamedly. -"I had set my heart on her being a—a—why, -we are going to name her Lucretia," I added -timidly and with some confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, you were always a fool; a bigger one -since you married, just as I knew you'd be, all of -'em are. Why, of course he'll be a good lusty -chap; and I have already named him </span><em class="italics">Andrew Jackson</em><span>, -and that's what he'll be, name and all. I am -going to give his daddy a drink; he needs it, -weak-kneeing around here like an old run-down -selling-plater in the home stretch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the dining-room she took down a cut-glass -goblet and pottered around in the side-board till -she had found her old-time loaf sugar. This she -broke into bits, and, putting a piece in the goblet, -she held it up to the light and eyed me queerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew Aunt Lucretia, and that this ceremony -was her way of playing for time and a kindly way -of diverting my mind from Eloise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very few people, Jack," she went on, "know -how to make a toddy. Now you pour a little -water over this sugar and let it melt; if you crush it -with the spoon it spoils the whole thing, and then -pour the whiskey in slowly, stirring it all the time. -The nutmeg; ah—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We took one each, and Aunt Lucretia smiled. -"Feel better? Well, you'd better stop at that! -Another one might make you see double—directly—and -that would be horrible—twins! -Why, Jack, I've known men to be driving along, -single, and after taking two of these to swear -they were driving a span! One more makes them -think they are holding a four-in-hand! Now, that -boy of yours," she began, "why, Jack, I wouldn't -have him divided up into twins for anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stopped and looked quickly up. The old -doctor was smiling at us. He had slipped into the -room while we were talking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have missed it, Miss Lucretia," he said, -pouring out a half-glass for himself and taking it -straight. "Phew! But I need a bracer myself -after all that! It's a girl, Jack, a most beautiful, -bloodlike little girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack!" cried my Aunt, throwing up both -hands, "Jack, get out of my sight! But we'll -drink to her," she added gamely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And we did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two of them!" cried the doctor, warmly -shaking my hand. "Two beautiful little girls, -Jack! My boy, I congratulate you! And the -mother is doing fine, just tickled to death and -begging me to let you come in at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heaven help us!" cried my Aunt Lucretia, -with feigned anger, but real exultation shining in -her eyes. "Twin colts never amount to a hill of -beans. We'll go in directly, Doctor, and drown -one of them; it will give the other a chance in -life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned quickly. "Hand me that glass, Doctor," -I said firmly. "I am never going to be -partial to my little ones. We've drunk to the first -one, here's to the second!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, even in our disappointment let us be just," -said my Aunt, joining me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And we drank to the second one, my Aunt laughing, -pleased for all her seeming anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But my own heart was pounding under me with -the same gripping in my throat that I had felt as -I stood on the deck of the Indiana and, looking -up, beheld Old Glory above me....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were lying together by their mother, pink -and white little creatures, with heads quite -hairless, and blue eyes that were already smiling as -plain as could be, twinkling, fun-loving eyes, which -said, then, as they have always said, "</span><em class="italics">It's a joke -on Daddy we've played!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise, lying smiling by them, was holding out -her arms to me. "I am quite comfortable, and -oh, so happy, Jack!" she whispered as I kissed -her again and again. "You can't love them both -better than you do me! And please don't inspect -them too closely, Daddy," she went on, "for you -know what old Josh Billings said: '</span><em class="italics">There is two -things no man is ever prepared for—twins!</em><span>' So -we've had to dress up one of them in Aunt Lucretia's -old flannel skirt and a crash towel, but -she's just as sweet as the other one and so like her -own, sweet daddy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That Jack Daniel whiskey, sweetheart," I said, -choking up sillily,—"but I am so thankful, now -that you are safe—and—and—I was so proud -and happy that I drank to each of their healths, -till, Eloise, really are you sure, but I'll swear I -am seeing four little heads here under the cover—and -if there are—of course, if it is, it's all right -with me—and—and—Eloise, aren't they -holding hands already?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise broke out into her old laugh. "Of -course they are," she cried happily, "and there -aren't but two of them, Jack; honest, just -two—on my word of honor, none of them have got -away; but that's the funniest part of it all—they -clasped hands as soon as they were placed together—just -two sweet for anything! Such devotion -to each other! Look! And oh, Jack, you must -never, never show any partiality, or love one more -than the other, or either of them more than me. -And don't take any more of Aunt Lucretia's Jack -Daniel, for it makes me afraid to have you see -double this way! Don't now, for if you took two -more of those old drinks you might see -triplets—oh,—the thought of it! Now kiss us all -goodnight; we want to sleep. And here—your hands, -Jack, and our little prayer."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="how-aunt-lucretia-ran-away"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HOW AUNT LUCRETIA RAN AWAY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There never was a fall like Aunt Lucretia's -when she did fall in love. It is historic at The -Home Stretch to this day, and the record is as -Aunt Lucretia wrote it to me after she had -married Dr. Gottlieb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ran away!" exclaimed Eloise, after she had -read the letter; "and everybody on the place has -been trying to marry them off to each other for -twenty years. But of course Aunt Lucretia had to -do something different!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, I knew, Jack," wrote Aunt -Lucretia from Dr. Gottlieb's old home in Germany, -where they were spending their honeymoon, "that -old Gott,—bless the dear heart of him!—had -been loving me all these years. Women folks have -a kind of a dog nose for the man that really loves -them—they know it by instinct. There are some -men who court women naturally, but there are lots -of them every sensible woman has to court a little -herself. Old Gott was one of these. I knew if -I ever married him I'd have to court him myself, -although he was crazy about me. But I didn't -love him then; he was so silly and made me so -mad the way he did it—always hinting around -that I was that great red flower he was trying to -find, and writing me silly letters, begging me to -kiss the postage stamp when I replied, so he might -kiss it also! Of course I was proud of Gott and -awfully fond of him. I knew he had a great mind -and an international reputation as a botanist, but -as a lover, Jack, he was very poor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He courted me every way but the right way. -Now there is only one way to court a woman and -that is to kiss her. You can get some of them -to marry you the other way—that is, by making -them think they are little tin goddesses, or stars -'way up above you, and all that, or by writing them -poetry and not daring to look at them except -through a long-distance telescope!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After five or six years and an innumerable -number of family prayers and pink teas you can -get that kind to wed you. But she isn't worth -much after you win her; for you get a little pink-tea -wife who presents you, in the course of the first -ten years, with one little offspring, and devotes -the rest of her time to pills and hospital operations -for appendicitis. Instead of going in for addition -they go in for subtraction, Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Jack, after you and Eloise married, I -began to feel lonesome, and I felt sorry for poor -old Gott, pottering around out there among his -books and flowers, with nobody to take care of -him. I used to ride by to see him every day, -thinking maybe he'd have sense enough to court -me in a decent way; but every time he would act -worse, until it got so that the poor man couldn't -talk at all in my presence; he could only fold his -hands and sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew the disease was running its course, and -I became very uneasy. In this stage the patient, -in addition to all the previous symptoms, has a -steady rising temperature and becomes mentally -unbalanced. This is shown in intense jealousy, a -disease of mind produced by nothing else in the -world but this malady. This hallucination takes -violent possession of the mind, so that he is ready -to shoot, kill or stab anyone whom he thinks -stands in the way of his one great love; or, failing -in that, to kill himself on the slightest -provocation. It makes them do all kinds of queer -things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he rapidly developed into the last stage, -which is complete imbecility.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was nothing for me to do, Jack; I must -save poor Gott's life and mind. It would be hard -on me, I knew, but for thirty years I had taken -care of him, even giving him a home; and I could -not bear to see the poor man, in his old age, -become an imbecile and a suicide for want of a little -help from me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As he was practically an imbecile already I -decided to treat him as such; to cajole him, to -entrap him, to lead him into matrimony by making -him think it was something beautiful, and enchanting, -'up a winding stair,' so to speak; a hot house -at the end of a rainbow!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And this is the way it happened: I first -hunted up that old red flower and pinned it over -my heart. Then I took a flask of Tennessee -whiskey in my saddle-bag and rode over to his -house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I caught him just right. He had been up all -night, writing a thesis for the University of Berlin -on the 'Propagation of Pollen by Differentiation,' -and having finished that, he was beginning to tell -his pet parrot how much I resembled that great, -red flower he was so fond of, and talking about -the evening star which he said was just rising. It -was ten o'clock in the morning and I knew at -once what had happened. He had begun his -thesis the afternoon before, and had become so -absorbed that he had worked all night without -knowing it, and now thought it was tea time!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was greatly distressed at the inroads the -disease had made in his mind, and I knew I must -act with the greatest tact and foresight. He was -just telling the parrot all the beautiful things about -me and my resemblance to the red flower when I -walked in, wearing the flower over my heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He gave one look at me and the flower, and -that was almost too much for him. He began to -mumble something, and then became speechless in -his chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was almost heartbroken to see the swift -inroads the disease had made on him, poor -dear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Gott,' I said gently, sitting down by him, -'you must take a little of this,' and I made him -drink a good stiff toddy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He drank it, looking bewilderingly around, -like the poor inmates of the insane asylum I have -seen, and every now and then looking at the red -lily and sighing as if in great pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At last he spoke. 'Er—Miss—Miss—er'—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Lucretia,' I said, smiling encouragingly at -him; 'just Lucretia always, dear Gott, between -you and me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This would have landed any sensible man, but -thirty years of the disease had made Gott abnormal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Again I saw the color leave his cheek, and -his face turn pale. Another good bracer, and he -was better.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'As I was just going to remark,' he said, -turning pale again, 'Lu—Lu—Lu—ere—' he -stammered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Lucretia,' I said. 'Of course, Gott, dear -heart, dear heart, that is my name—your name -for me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He tried to faint again, but the Tennessee -whiskey stood staunch. So he threw up his hands -with a little happy, pitiful gesture, and again lost -his voice!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After awhile I said to him: 'I am going -to scold you, dear Gott; I am going to take better -care of you. You have been sitting up all night -writing and you are tired.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Oh, no,' he said; 'oh, no. I began to write -a few hours ago. It is now tea time. Won't -you take tea with me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, it was pitiful. I thought I'd take him -in my arms and kiss him then and there—just -make him my own—only I was afraid the shock -might kill him! I must do it gradually. So I -went on humoring him. 'Sure, Gott, dear, old, -precious Gott,' I said. 'Sure, it is just tea time, -and I'm going to sit out on the little porch under -the wisteria vine and the stars. Won't you come -with me, precious?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, it proved near being fatal. He tried -to speak, but had only a kind of a gurgling spasm -of a breath, panted violently, and turned red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I let that soak in and got up and got busy. -I thought if anything in the world would fetch him, -or any man, it would be to see a good-looking -woman, in a white apron, with rosy cheeks and eyes -full of fun, buzzing around in his old bachelor's -den getting him a meal that was worth while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor old Gott! The disease of thirty years' -standing had nearly ruined him!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cooked him one of my famous steaks, Jack; -you know how. Skillet red hot, a little butter on -it, then drop the steak on, and, as quick as it sears -on that side, over it goes on the other, and quick -again back, and so on, holding the juice in rich -and sweet. And the tea, Jack, the rare old china -I had brought in my saddle-bags, too; and the -omelet; if anything in the world would put heart -into a man!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eat it? You should have seen the dear old -sweetheart. It almost made me cry. God only -knows when he'd had a meal before. I found out -afterwards that he had been writing two days, -Jack, and then thought every day was to-morrow!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was so near gone, you may judge of it -yourself. After those two toddies and that good -meal he—he—well, he didn't seem to catch -on yet! His mind didn't seem to be any clearer. -But it helped him, for he had courage enough to -take my hand in his, and say, 'Lucretia, shall we -sit out under the wisteria—and—and—look at -the moon?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I said </span><em class="italics">spoon</em><span>,' I replied firmly, for I saw then, -Jack, that I must be very gentle and firm with -Gott, he was so badly afflicted!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I felt his hand quiver beneath mine. He -tried to faint, but very firmly I led him out into -the full daylight under the wisteria vine. And -then very gently but firmly I began to woo him; -poor dear, he was nearly gone!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He looked so killing, too, Jack; the little -fellow with his gray hair, his handsome, red face, -the fine turn of his large, intellectual head! Oh, -that horrid disease! For he sat there in broad -daylight mistaking the sun for the moon, and the -little white jasmine blossoms above us for stars! -I thought the best way to win him would be through -the red lily he had worshipped so long. So, after -sitting by him and taking his hand in mine, I said, -'Dear heart, do you notice what flower I am -wearing to-day?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Imagine my exasperation when he stammered, -shook all over, and began mechanically, 'Yes, -madam, it is the </span><em class="italics">Lilium Philadelphium</em><span>, the red, -wood, flame, or Philadelphia Lily. Flowers: -erect, tawny, or red-tinted, outside: vermilion or -sometimes reddish orange, and spotted with -madder brown within; one to five on separate -peduncles, borne at the summit. Periant of six distincts, -spreading spatulate segments, each narrowing into -a claw and with a nectar groove at the base: six -stamens: one style; the club-shaped stigma -three-lobed. Stem: one to three feet tall, from a bulb -composed of narrow jointed fleshy scales. -Leaves: in whorls of threes to eights, lance-shaped, -sealed at intervals on the stem. Preferred -habitat: dry-woods, sandy soil, borders and thickets; -flower season, June and July; distribution, Northern -border United States and westward to Ontario, -south to the Carolinas and Virginia!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He said it all like a parrot, looking up at the -wisteria vine. Jack, I saw that I must fight hard -to save him. 'Dear heart,' I said, holding his -hand, 'don't you think you need someone always -with you to take care of you, cook your meals, -nurse you? I fear you are sick now, darling,' I -added, laying my head on his bosom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could feel his heart panting like a trip-hammer. -I saw him wince, struggle, grit his teeth, -as one who tries to overcome a terrible thing, -fighting for mastery of his mind; and then, Jack—I -was so mad I could have choked him! That -terrible disease!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Yes—Lucretia—dear—Miss—er—Miss -Lucretia, I mean—do you think I could hire -some good old woman who—ah—whom would -you suggest?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I could suggest a great many, Gott, I said, -my arm around him; 'but I will suggest only one. -</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> need a husband for my old age, and </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>,' I -said, 'darling,' and I put one arm around his neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He shivered, paled, and I thought he was -dying; but I went on, 'Gott—you dear, old Gott—I -have loved you a long time, but I've been too -busy to tell you so; but now, dear sweetheart, I -want to make you my wife—I mean, Gott, my -husband, of course, and—and—kiss me, Gott; -kiss me, dearie!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Jack, the divinity of it! I am ashamed -of all I have said before! Tear down that -pedigree from your wall! Forget all I've said about -marrying people off like animals—about improving -the breed—about anything but love—love—love. -For, when my lips touched his, life grew -different! I had never felt it before! From that -moment I was in love—divinely, gloriously in -love!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He keeled over, of course. It all but killed -him. It was the crisis of the disease of thirty -years' standing, but I had my nerve with me, and -when he came to he was so bashful and happy, -Jack. He said shyly, 'But, darling Lucretia, -don't you think our parents might object; wouldn't -it be romantic if we ran away?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we did, Jack, that very night. I had -him put a ladder up to his bed room window, -and that night I slipped out, brought him down -the ladder, and we ran off to town and were married!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it was so romantic, such a sweet dream! -And here we are in his old home in Germany and -so happy!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgive and forget all that I have ever said -about people falling in love, for mine at last was -the hardest fall!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-night-with-captain-skipper"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A NIGHT WITH CAPTAIN SKIPPER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Blessed is that man who is born with the -saving grace of humor! Blessings on the memory of -my Celtic sires!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One night when Eloise and the twins were away, -I rode over to spend the night with my brother -Ned. He had been elected to Congress from the -Hermitage District, and together we were to frame -a Forestry Bill—the first of that series of acts -which have steadily legislated toward the -Conservation of our national resources, and which will -yet lead on to greater things; first and foremost -of which, and most vital, will be the taking over -for preservation by the national Government -of the entire Appalachian mountain range, the -forests of which are at the headwaters of nearly -all the Eastern half of our country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My brother was not home, but the others were, -and to my great delight a girl baby as much like -her mother as two turquoise shells. Little Sister -had grown into a slim, pretty girl, and Captain -Skipper, more positive than ever, began early -begging his mother, since his father was away, to let -him sleep with his Uncle Jack that night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do, Thesis," I said, after supper. "Let -him have his way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that's where you'll drop your candy," -said Little Sister in her serio-quaint way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thesis, who is so good that she says only what -she thinks and is so honest that she never suspects -others of diplomatic pretenses, took me at my -word. Captain Skipper should sleep with his dear -Uncle Jack that night!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You who read this, did you ever sleep with a -boy? I don't mean one of those good boys that -you read of in Sunday-school books—the -impossible kind—who lives like a saint every day and -says his prayers and retires like a gentleman at -night: but one of those lusty, growing young -devils, born with a spring in his back, who howls -out the first year, sleeps out the second, and by the -time of the third is ready to chase the cat around -and fight brave battles with the hen folks. At -four he is ready for the birds' nests and tin cans -for the dogs' tails, and a little later he breaks -every colt that tries to keep the Sabbath in the -meadow by the still waters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When night comes—ay, there is the rub! He -howls away the twilight hours and spends the -night kicking, coughing, rolling out of bed or -having fits, and yet sleeping through it all like a cub -in winter quarters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The weather that night was warm, one of those -hot April nights that lies humid and close. "The -dear little fellow will be so proud to sleep with his -Uncle Jack," said his fond mother, when she -kissed him good night; "and he does sleep so -sound and quietly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never having owned a boy, I believed all of -this. Did you ever try to undress a lad of four -that had chased the cat around until he was hot? -His clothes stick to him like a plaster. Being a -novice, I got everything unbuttoned and then -skinned him, peeled them off. To my surprise—and -I found later that there were all kinds of -surprises in that boy—in fact, that he was made out -of surprises—he insisted upon saying his prayers! -But I never saw anything go more promptly to -sleep at his devotions. I had to derrick him up -into the bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of the strange things about a boy is that -when he starts to wiggle around over the bed in -his sleep he does it diagonally. I pulled him -back on his own side of the bed five times within -the next hour. Then I would hear him scuffling -and flopping about, always ending in a -long-drawn, dismal and dreary sigh, that would have -made his fortune as Romeo. It always ended in -his rounding up against the footboard in the -opposite corner, flat on his back, each limb and arm -pointing to its own cardinal point of the compass, -his nightgown rolled up in a wad under his neck, -and his body looking like that of a young bull -frog in a Kentucky horse-pond.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If there is anything more absurd than a boy in -this attitude I have never seen it. I tried to -awaken him and get him back, but he only sighed -one of those long sighs, unlimbered and slept on. -I went back to my window and began to work -on my bill, but my thoughts were soon dispelled -with a start. I heard a choking, gasping, -frightfully suffocating sound, mingled with a dolorous -wheezing: "</span><em class="italics">O-woo,—oo—oo—wow—O-woo—oo!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was at his side in an instant, this time frightened. -He was sitting stolidly up in bed, a strange -gaze in his wide-open eyes, his face beaded with a -clammy moisture, his face drawn in a spasm. I -had seen a boy have a fit before and I went -upstairs after his mother, two jumps at a time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quick," I cried, "hurry down! He'll not -live until we can get the doctor!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was rocking the baby to sleep. She did -not become excited, but smiled and whispered, -"He isn't dying, Jack, it is just poor circulation. -Don't notice him at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This made me cynical, bitter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor circulation?" I said in disgust. "He -has the best circulation I ever saw; he has -circulated all over that bed three times already. Not -notice him? It would take the mental aberration -of a stone man to do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I fear I was a bit satirical, for it is not pleasant -to be made a laughing stock of by a boy who was -not even awake. I was not assured, however, -and half expected to find him dead when I got -back. But I was disappointed. He had flopped -across his pillow on his back, his arms and legs -curled up. And sleeping! No ground-hog in -mid-winter ever surpassed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I spent the next hour planning how I would -like to fix him so as to keep him on his side of the -bed and let me go to sleep. In fact, I quit everything -else and thought. If there is anything I like -to do it is to sleep when the time comes. These -are some of the stunts that boy did in that hour: -Fits, three;—very distinct and prolonged: -snorts,—one every ten minutes: choking spells, at -intervals: kicked the pitcher off of the table near -the bed twice: jumped up and talked perfectly -naturally—so naturally that I felt that he was -awake,—but he was not. More snorts; and then: -"</span><em class="italics">Catch him! There he goes in that hole—hooray!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I would have sworn then that he was awake, and -examined him closely, cuffing and shaking him. -But he was not. He sighed and slept on....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The brilliant plan I finally settled on was to -put the pillows between us. It was nearly -midnight before I had courage enough to retire at -all. I pulled him up on his side, straightened him -out and put the barrier between us, and then crept -gingerly in. I lay still for a while listening. My -success was so complete I wanted to stay awake -a while and enjoy it. He would start out on his -journey across the bed, but would wind up -suddenly against my barricade. There he would lie -a while, and I could feel his thumps against it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In my vanity I chuckled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had dozed off in this state of self-conceit when -I felt something rammed into my mouth. I -thought at first that burglars had entered and that -I had been chloroformed and gagged. It was not -so. That boy had shot his foot through under the -pillow and popped me square in the mouth. I -had been told that it was not well to sleep with -one's mouth open—now I knew it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When people treat me that way, asleep or -awake, I resent it. I fight. I boxed that boy's -ears. I pounded his head against the headboard -so that I would awaken him. I shook him, kicked -him, and used words I should not have wished his -mother to hear. When I had finished, he quietly -sighed another of his long, peaceful, happy sighs, -and slept on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sleep was not for me after that, and I spent the -next hour lying awake and cataloguing the -different things he would do. These were only a -few of them:—Another fit; seeing cats, and -wolves and dragons around his bed; chasing rabbits; -talking in his sleep; telling of seeing a bear -ride a bicycle down the pike; breaking a colt; -swimming in the creek; fighting another boy; wheezing -and thumping and making strange noises; dreaming -he was an infant again and imbibing from an -imaginary bottle; smacking his lips so loud that -the noise could be heard all over the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was three o'clock before a bright idea entered -into my head. I remembered that the only -request that his mother had made of me was to see -that he did not fall out of bed. I remembered -that in all his circulations and maneuverings, this -was the one thing that he never did, like a -runaway mule he knew how to take care of himself -even in his sleep. I began to anticipate him. I -determined to humor some of his little whims. I -put a pitcher of ice water by the bed. I got a -link of the garden hose that felt clammy and -looked like a snake. I doubled up my pillow so -I could strike hard with it. Then I sat up and -waited. I would make him realize all he dreamed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did not have long to wait. This time he was -falling from a tree or down an endless precipice, -for he sat on the edge of the bed, yelling: -"Catch me—catch me—I'm falling!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I let him fall. In fact I helped him along. I -put a lot of force into that pillow and it caught -him squarely under the ear. He went out of the -bed, hitting the floor in a heap. It wakened him. -"Where am I, mamma? O, mamma?" he called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come to your mamma," I said softly; "dear -little boy, you have fallen out of the bed. Be -careful how you roll."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was asleep before he touched the pillow. -But in the next half hour he did not roll any more, -and so I learned that a boy may be taught things -even in his sleep if only the proper implements -are used.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was not yet cured of swimming in his -sleep, for, just as I began to doze off, thinking -that he was properly broken, he began to splash -around in the bed, lamming me on the head and -stomach, and shouting: "Look out! There's a -snake—pull for the shore!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This gave me my cue. Seizing a water pitcher -I turned it over on him, at the same time -wrapping the clumsy hose around his leg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Snakes," I cried in his ear, "dive for the -shore!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave a wide-awake yell that time, and rolled -backward out of bed. One jump and he had -cleared the room, going up stairs yelling: -"Snakes, mamma, s-n-a-k-e-s!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I let him go. Nay, I locked the door behind -him and went to sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The breakfast bell rang twice, but I did not -hear it. Little Sister had to come to awaken me. -They were all at breakfast when I came down, -Thesis, the baby, and the boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How soundly you must have slept!" she said, -smiling. "I forgot to tell you that the dear little -fellow sometimes walks in his sleep; and do you -know, this morning I found him fast asleep on the -first stair landing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little Sister, however, was wiser. She looked -at me in her quaint way and said, funnily: -"Uncle Jack, you look real tired; like you'd -dropped your candy last night, sure enough."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="my-first-automobile"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MY FIRST AUTOMOBILE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was one of those beautiful December mornings -when the frost had hung his laces everywhere, -and a hunting fever fairly burned within me. It -comes over me at times, and then—well—I run -away and obey it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As though through mental telepathy my -telephone rang. "Hello! Is that you, Jack? This -is Horace Raymond, your old neighbor. I'm in -town to-day. Ever see such a pretty day? Let's -take a quail hunt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad to hear your voice again, Horace. No, -I never did. I am ready for a quail hunt any day -except Sunday. Never had any luck on Sunday at -all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have just bought a new automobile," he -went on, "and I want to try it out to-day. I -will be right out in a hurry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, say, Horace, now that's another thing. -I have never ridden in one of those things; they -aren't bred right, don't like their gait; and loving -horses as I do, confound them, I've got religious -scruples on the subject. Now you come out here -in the thing and I will have the little mare and -the buggy hooked up, a good lunch and the setters -in, and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard him laugh derisively. "Nonsense! -Why, man, we're going way out beyond you on -the Lebanon pike—ten miles—and we want to -go in a hurry. I'll have you there in thirty -minutes. Now the little mare would be fully an hour -making it, and then dead tired for a long drive -back, with a pointer and two setters crowding us -out of the buggy. I'll be at your place in twenty -minutes with two dogs—have that champion -pointer of yours ready." And he rang off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I hung up the receiver. "I guess I'm up against -it," I said, as I went off to put on my hunting -clothes, "but if it gets out on me I can prove -I didn't want to do it. Besides, this new hunting -cap I've just bought would make Moses look like -a Turk in Hades; nobody would recognize me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack, I'm ashamed of you," said Eloise with -becoming scorn. "What would Satan say? But -of course, if you are going in that thing, and -happen to bag any birds—which I know you'll -never do—please remember the luncheon I am -going to give to-morrow, dear. But you'll never -get them, going back on your raising like -that—see if you do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, see if you do," said one of the twins, now -aged four.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the other added, "No, see if you do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For which I kissed them both, because they were -so femininely consistent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The truth is, I wanted to go hunting. It was -in my blood that morning, and these beautiful -December days with a hazy glow on the blue hills -and that stillness that comes like a dropping nut -in a forest would put it into anybody's blood, -anybody who had it. And when the infection -hits you there is only one antidote, a dog, a -gun, a tramp over the hills, and—whir! bang! bang!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And to-day was ideal. I had felt it all morning; -the cool, bracing air with that little frosty -aroma of leaves curling to crispness under the first -blight of things, and that other delightful odor of -pungent woodland damp with frost-biting dew. -And the hills blue and beautiful are alone worth -going to meet, and the trees crimson in the hectic -flush of the dying year.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dick, my pointer, was jumping all over me and -turning dogsprings of delight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down, Dick! Heigh ho, old boy; that machine -is against my religion, but I'd go hunting in -a negro hearse to-day. Besides," I said, with a -twinge of conscience, "he'll get us to the field in -forty minutes, and the little mare is getting old -and we've got a late start."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I sighed and felt better. I had fought so long -and said so much for the horse, and now—now—it -was inexorable; they were being driven to their -fate; they had to go before the relentless wheel of -progress. I was virtually admitting it, I, who had -said I'd never—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shouldered my gun. Somehow it didn't seem -like the old, joyous hunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the front gate the automobile stood, a pretty -thing, to be sure. Its owner was smiling, goggle-eyed -and all aglow, his hand on the wheel, or whatever -you call the steering end of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jump in, Jack, old man; we must be in a -hurry. Slap Dick in there behind with my two -setters. Be in a hurry! By George! I know -where there are a dozen coveys, and we'll be there -in forty minutes. Hi, Dick! What's the matter? -Get in! Confound him, what's the matter with -that old dog?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was lugging Dick and trying to get him in. -He was kicking like a half-roped steer. He had -always jumped to his place in the little buggy, but -now—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew what was the matter. Even Dick, dog -that he was, had his principles, and he was man -enough to say so. While I—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned crimson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get in, old boy," I begged. "We'll be there -in a jiffy. Dead bird—good doggie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I got him in, with his head down and his tail -between his legs. To all intents he was going to -a funeral. I turned quickly away, for I could not -stand the scorn and dumb reproach of his eyes. -Right then I would have quit and gone back, but -I didn't want to hurt my friend's feelings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jump in, jump in, let's be going," he shouted, -in his nervous, business way. "Oh, just a -minute! There—you're on the ground. Say, here, -take this and give that starting crank a turn. -I'm not very expert myself," he went on, "and -I sometimes forget; but you're on the -ground—there—right there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I gave her a whirl, several of them. I whirled -her like blue blazes. I kept on whirling, while -her owner grasped the wheel and his eyes danced -nervously, as he expected her to flash into the -throb that said steam was on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she didn't fire, and I kept cranking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Faster, Jack, harder!" he cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I whirled and whirled. I began to get warm. -The sweat began to pour off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say," I said, gasping for breath, "this beats -turning a grindstone. What the devil—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I canth—thee," he lisped, "turnth -again—quick—a tharp, sthnappy onth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned her again, quick, sharp and snappy. -The thing pulled heavy and felt like an unoiled -grindstone, just out of the store. My arms ached, -the sweat poured off, and my back was nearly -broken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I gave her a final desperate twist, and—there -she was! Dead as a log wagon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound it," I said, mopping my forehead -and staggering up; "I could have curried the mare -and hitched her up six times. Why, something's -wrong with your old gas wagon," I went on, -getting hot. "I'll not turn this crank any more," I -said; "I'll be so sore in my arms I couldn't hold -my gun straight to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked puzzled, annoyed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I can't thee—" he began to lisp again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that you've got in your mouth?" I -jerked out. "You don't lisp that way naturally."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A smile broke over his face. He took out a -little, black peg, and roared. It was too -funny—to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg yo' pardon, old boy—beg yo' -pardon—ha-ha-ha! Good joke. That's the switch -plug. You take it out when the machine's idle, -and I forgot to put it back in the little hole. -Here," he said, sticking it in, "it connects the -current—ha-ha—good joke—now give her a -whirl." I gave the whirl, but in no manner to -enjoy the joke. I heard her fire up and begin -to throb. We moved off beautifully. We began -to fly up the smooth pike, my hand back in Dick's -collar, for fear he'd jump out and commit suicide. -I dared not turn round to look the honest dog in -the eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fine, fine—ain't this fine, old man?" cried -my friend enthusiastically, as he buzzed up the -road. "Look at your watch—nine-twenty. -Ah, now we'll be in the field at ten sharp—sharp—two -good hours for hunting before we eat our -pocket lunch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now your little old mare," he laughed, -"would take up those fifteen miles by now? Say, -ha! ha!—acknowledge the corn, old man—the -decree has gone forth—it's all over with the old -pacers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I growled and said nothing. So did Dick. -It was good, though, the way we were eating up -space and getting nearer to the birds, those game, -nervy, whirring birds that dart like winged flashes -of thunder before your gun. We whirled over -the bridge at the river at lightning speed. I saw -the sign up about the fine for going faster than a -walk, but how—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can an automobile walk—ha! ha!" -he shouted, for he had read it also and divined my -thoughts and winked knowingly at me. "That -applies to horses and jackasses and such," he -laughed—"things that walk. But this don't -walk, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Honk! Honk!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was blowing for a stray mule to get out of -his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mule got, tail up, and settled into a barbed -wire fence, which he tried to jump, but only -succeeded in cutting up his countenance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Honk! Honk! "Get out of the way, if -that's all the sense, you've got. My! but ain't we -buzzing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded, beginning to become exhilarated myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is pretty good," I admitted. "I begin -to see how you people soon become speed-crazy. -We'll get the birds to-day," I warmed up, "and -I thank you for—look out! Stop!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped, but not in time. It was a nervous-looking, -old, fleabitten, gray mare, full of Stackpole, -Traveler, Dan Rice and Boston blood. I -had seen it so often that I knew the very turn -of its tail. In the buckboard she was pulling -were three country girls, fat, solid, happy, their -lines wabbling around anywhere, and the old mare -going where she listeth. They were the kind of -girls I knew and loved in my sappy days. I used -to commence to kiss 'em about Christmas, -knowing they'd wake up and respond about the Fourth -of July. Two of them amply filled up the buckboard, -but, as usual, a third one had piled on top -of the others somewhere, and—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Great heaven, Horace!" I shouted. "Stop—that -one there on top is holding a baby!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I sprang out, for I saw the old mare begin to -squat, her old, scared, brown eyes blazing in her -white face like holes in a big lard can. I heard -her snort like a scared bear and saw her feet -pattering jigs all over the pike. Then she whirled, -running into a fence, where, between the overturned -buckboard, the shafts and the rail fence, she -stood wedged upon her hind legs, pawing the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the girls surprised me. Without a change -in their fat, immutable, expressionless faces, they -simply rolled out on the pike in a bunch, the baby -on top, like snow folks tilted over by a boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They got up, dusting their frocks. They had -taken it for granted. It was all right. There -was not a squawk, not even from the baby, as one -of them picked it up and I grabbed the bits and -straightened out the old mare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope you ladies aren't hurt," said my friend -from the roadside, in his machine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sally, is you hurt?" asked the fattest one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naw," she grunted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mamie, is you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mamie merely wiggled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Tootsy hurt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tootsy was eating an apple, with unblinking -eyes fixed on the wonderful machine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing was hurt but the harness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was hurt before they started, but I had to -spend the next twenty minutes patching it up. -Finally we got them all in, Tootsy on top. No -word had they spoken, but I could see they were -eyeing me, with that country suspicion that makes -every maid of them rate every man she meets in -the road as Lothario, Jr., or a prince in disguise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, ladies, you are all right," I said, -trying to keep cheerful. "And I am so glad none -of you was hurt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then one of them drawled, but looking over -toward the distant horizon, "Ain't you named -Mister Jack?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned red and pleaded guilty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After all you've writ, I don't think you had -oughter done this," she said, and then they all -drove sedately off, still looking toward the horizon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now that's the worst thing about automobiles," -said Horace, after we started again, -"these fool country horses. Why, I waited till -this time of day, thinking they'd all be in town by -now, for they get up with the chickens. Anyway, -we're not likely to meet any more of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope not," I sighed, pulling out a cigar and -a match, as I'd always done in the buggy. It was -blown out before the sulphur burned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't do that in an automobile," he -yelled, "we're going too fast. Like to stop for -you, but we're fairly humming—be there in half -an hour, old man." Honk! Honk!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We had turned a bend in the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Great Cæsar!" I shouted. "Nobody going -to town! Look!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His jaws dropped. There they were. We -could see for half a mile, and so help me heaven, -but this was the procession that passed as we pulled -out of the narrow pike on the roadside, consumed -with impatience to get to the field, the machine -throbbing beneath us like a loft over a barn dance:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>First an old sorrel mare, a worn-out buggy of -the vintage of 1874, and two old ladies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The whole thing approached gingerly, creeping -up like a yellow cat. It was a toss-up as to -which of the two's eyes popped the biggest, or -which had her mouth shut tightest. The old -mare was game, and sidled up, and just as I saw -the wheels begin to form in her head the occupants -threw down the lines and began to pop two pairs -of country-yarned legs out of the two sides of the -buggy, exclaiming, "Fur ther Lord's sake thar, -Mister, ketch 'er!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I jumped out and had her by the bits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of them relieved herself by spitting snuff -over the dashboard, while the other took it out -on me, deprecating the day when "Sech folks -an' things blocks up ther public trail—an' so help -me, ain't that thar Mister Jack, an' my old man -bred this mar' by his say so! Jack,—Ananias," -she sniffed, as she drove off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next were right on us, two slick, three-year-old -sugar-mules, hauling a load of darkies. -They came on at a rattling clip, making more -noise than a freight train, jollying, laughing and -cackling. The men were on plank seats across -the wagon, the women in high-back hickory chairs, -squatting low and feeling as good as Senegambians -usually do in a white man's country, where he -does all the worrying and thinking and they do all -the loafing and eating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They passed us without a wabble. I expected -that, for a mule, like a negro, never sees anything -until he has passed it. I saw the gate of the -wagon had been taken out in the rear to let the -damsels in: also the chickens, the coop of ducks, -a bundle of coon-skins, pumpkins, a sack of -unwashed wool, some spare ribs and a tub of only -such nice chitlings as a country mammy can -prepare. They passed, and then the scare got into -those three-year-old corn feds good by way of their -tails. For I saw these straighten out first, then -their ears. I saw the big driver fall back on the -lines, and—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whoa, dar!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They jumped twenty feet in the first jump, and -ran half a mile in spite of his lugging and sawing. -But the first jump was enough. The damage -was done then, for everything in it but the driver, -who held on to the reins, came boiling out of the -rear. Up the road for half a mile was a -telegraph line of chitlings, the rest were mixed up. -They all rose but one damsel, weighing close to -468 pounds. She sat still. A young buck went -to help her up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"G'way f'm heah, nigger, wait till I see ef -my condiments is busted," she cried, feeling her -sides and her chest. "'Sides, I wants Brer Simon -to hope me up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brother Simon helped her and she was all right.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We gave her a dollar and the others a quarter -each. It was expensive, but I deemed it just.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The following then passed with more or less -hesitancy, shying and plunging: a surrey and team; -a boy and his best girl; a log wagon and four -mules, the leaders rushing by in terror, pulling the -wheelers by the neck, as they were trying to go -the other way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came Old 'Squire Jones on his roan Hal -pacer. The horse got half-way by before he -decided that the goggle eyes on the roadside had -him. Well—no goggle eyes had ever caught -any of his tribe—not yet! In bucking to wheel, -he tapped the old 'Squire in the mouth with his -poll. The old man had been raised a Presbyterian, -with Baptist propensities, and he made the -ozone sulphuric. He brought his horse back to -the scratch, spurring and swearing. It was all -right this time, till the old horse looked into the -back of the machine. True to the fool in his -pedigree, he knew what the machine was, because -he had never seen one before; but the dogs—they -were things he had seen all his life, and he -bolted backward again, jamming the old 'Squire's -stomach against the pommel and his back against -the cantle. It was the time to go, and we shot -out, leaving the old horse waltzing into town on -his hind legs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't hear his last remarks," I said, as we -went along. "They seemed to be rather personal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let 'em go," said Horace. "You wouldn't -want to put them in your scrap-book."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think the mare and buggy would have -made us all these enemies," I remarked, "and we -would have been there by now. Do you know it's -eleven o'clock?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've got a fine run, now," he apologized. -"We'll be there in thirty minutes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll be there by night," I snarled. "Say, -we'll just call it a possum hunt, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This made him mad, and he did not speak till -he got to the big hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here at the foot we stopped and sat, throbbing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Horace fumbled with a side brake a moment, -touched a pedal and looked wise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's all this for?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm resting for a little headway before taking -that steep hill. And say, while we're at it, you -ought to know something about a machine, you -might be called on to help me in an emergency."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned pale. Up to this time I had felt -secure. Now I understood something of the -feelings of that pair of mules that never saw danger -until they had passed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I thought you knew all about it," I began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I do, but something might happen -to me. You might be thrown on your own -resources. Now here," he went on. "This little -lever on the wheel is the spark-control—it -quickens things—the next one is the throttle; -that means more power. This is the switch-plug -here: this is the clutch, and this the brake. Now, -remember, and watch me start."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did, the thing starting slowly up the hill -and then beginning to go in little jumps, exactly -like a horse galloping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pull him down," I growled, "he's broken his -gait." For I felt every moment as if it would -soon wabble and quit. But he kept galloping and -I settled down and began unconsciously to wabble -my body as I would in motion to a galloping -horse. I couldn't help it. I glanced at Horace, -he was doing the same, but hitching at the side -lever all the time, and we were bobbing like two -Muscovy ducks over a mud hole.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was uncomfortable, it was uncanny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound you," I growled, "I tell you the -thing's galloping—he's all tangled up; bring him -down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Snap</em><span> went something, and Horace breathed easy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right now," he said, as we began to climb -the hill beautifully. Over the top we went, and -then—down—down! How she did fly! My -heart jumped into my throat! I held my breath -and felt that same feeling I used to feel pumping -in a swing when I'd soar up to the top and start -down again, the same when I started down the -elevator from the 19th story of the Masonic -Temple and felt my legs give way and threw my -arms around the neck of the elevator boy and -begged him for heaven's sake to stop until I got -my breath and my legs in speaking distance of -each other, and collected the rest of myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop her," I cried, "down-this-hill-I'm-feeling-queer-Lord-I'm-stop, -I tell you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's easy," he laughed. "Do it yourself—on -that brake—there—just to teach you—there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gasping for breath and pale with fright, I -kicked up a little pedal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thing jumped twenty feet!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't!" I heard him yell, "Good Lord, -that's the throttle!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw a big ditch on the other side of us. I saw -his hand dart quickly to his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like all man and woman-kind, in emergencies -with a horse, I do the fool thing, grab at the reins. -This instinct overpowered me. I grabbed the -brakes to help him. I over-did it. It stopped too -quickly; it actually kicked up behind. It stopped -like a twelve-inch ball striking armor plate. I -went over clear across the ditch. The three dogs -were faithful and they followed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Horace tried it, but the steering wheel stopped -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was my fault," I said, as I limped up, after -the dogs got off of me. "I grabbed at your -reins, I guess—thought you were running away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the sudden stop had sprung something, and -Horace was out fixing it. He had pulled off his -cap and got under the machine, and I saw the -beaded sweat begin to rise on the crown of his -bald head, like bubbles on a mill pond.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This did me a world of good. I lighted a -cigar, propped up and began to smoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For half an hour he tinkered and tinkered. I -smoked and gave him such bits of sarcastic -encouragement as happened into my head. I -reminded him that Tempus was fugiting, and that -it was already quite 9:50 and we were still ten -miles from nowhere; that the little mare would -have been there by now, and we would still have -some friends left on the pike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Consider the lilies that ride in automobiles," -I quoted, "they toil not, neither do they spin, and -yet I say unto you that old gray mare, in all her -glory, never worked as hard as you are working now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was my time, and Dick and I enjoyed it, -sensible dog that he was. After every bit of such -talk he'd wink and fairly guffaw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Horace was working hard. He was groveling -in the dirt to do it, too, and that suited me also. I -could gauge his efforts by the sweat drops that -arose on his bald spot, growing and then bursting -like soap bubbles, to roll down his collar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Plague it!" he said at last, rising, "I can't -see very well without my glasses. Say, stop your -guying, now, and look under here and see if you -can see what's wrong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I got out as leisurely as a lord; all I could see -was a small coil of wire, red hot. "I see it," I -said, solemnly. "The thing's appendix is red -hot. Give me an axe and I'll open it up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dick howled with delight. I thought he'd die. -Horace smiled grimly, but it was a smile that -said, "I'll even this up yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Put in your shells; we'll hunt around toward -that farm house, and up there I'll 'phone to town -and have Smith come out and fix it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus he spoke, and I agreed. In fact, there -was nothing else to do. We rolled the machine -aside, the dogs were let out, and we were soon -quartering a field toward a farm house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose place is this?" I asked, as the dogs -began to hunt down the wind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Old Bogair's, a French Canadian. He came -here three years ago from Canada; ticklish old -fellow, but he knows me, and it's all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt secure, for while the game law is very -strict, requiring written permission to hunt on one's -premises, intended as a guard against pot hunters, -no gentleman ever objected to another hunting on -his farm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We started through a cedar wood in a gladey -spot and I saw Dick beginning to nose the wind -and to throw up his head for quail. Then I heard -my companion calling lustily for me to come. I -rushed up, Dick at my heels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A coon—a big coon—up in that cedar tree. -Get on the other side, quick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I ran around, and, sure enough, up among the -branches, trying to hide, but showing the end of -a brindled and streaked tail, was the coon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a trice I let him have it, and he came -crashing through the branches. Dick ran up and -seized it, shaking. I saw yellow eyes, ears laid -back, and the coon spitting and fighting for life. -It was dying, but struck out, tearing Dick's nose -to threads. I ran up and planted the heel of my -hunting boot on its neck, while Dick howled with -his lacerated nose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a funny looking coon," I said, as I -eyed the thing suspiciously. I heard Horace -laugh and saw him turn and make a break for the -road. I looked up. Old Bogair had run up, -red-faced and breathless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By gar," he yelled, as soon as he saw what -I'd done, "vut fur you keeled ze house cat fur? -Vut fur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was true; but never had I seen a tomcat -look more like a coon. On a distant hillside I -could see my deserting friend rolling on the grass -and shouting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In vain I apologized. Old Bogair kept dancing -around and shouting, "Vut fur you keel ze -house cat fur? Vut fur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you damaged?" I said at last, with -disgust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, en passant—dees one from T'ronto, I -breeng. Hee's registraire—fife taller, an' fife fur -treespaire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I paid it like a man. Old Bogair smiled and -bowed, with his hand on his stomach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eet vus all right now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took up the cat by the tail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vut fur? You don't vant heem?" he gasped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I do," I said, hotly. "He's mine. I've -paid for him and I want to take him over yonder -and rub him under the nose of that villain that -induced me to go hunting in an automobile and -steered me on the premises of a damned Dago who -keeps registered cats that look exactly like coons -when up a tree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thought I was complimenting him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Voilà—I t'ank you," he said, bowing again, -with his hand on his stomach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I hunted around an hour before I went to the -machine. I waited to cool off. Dick found a -fine covey, and I missed them right and left. I -had lost my nerve and my luck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I reached the machine, Horace was in, -blinking, and we said not a word. It was my time -to freeze. Smith had run out from town and -fixed it. A little wire the size of a pencil-point -had got an inch out of place, and it had been as -dead as a log wagon on us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now exactly 3:30, but we decided we still -had a chance to get a covey. We made the next -three miles in beautiful time, meeting only one man -driving a game, high-headed horse that swept by -us without giving us the least notice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If they were all bred like that one," I said, -"a man in a machine might think he had some -rights on the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad you are beginning to see the other side," -said Horace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll be there by four," he said; "just the -time the birds begin to feed good. Oh, we'll get -a few yet. It's a long lane, you know. Our luck -is turning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is fun," I said, as we flew along the -newly-graveled road parallel with the creek, -"fine, give it to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The scenery was beautiful; the bluffs were -draped in clustering red berries, and the woods old -gold and crimson. The water foamed over the -lime rocks, glowing iridescent in the sun, and the -air was bracing as we buzzed along.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Honk! Honk!</em><span> "Let her out!" I cried, as -a touch of speed mania got into me. "Say, I -see how it is," I said, "why a man soon gets the -speed mania in him. Horsemen can't blame you, -for they have got it, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we're riding," he cried. "You have an -hour yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were indeed riding, along a narrow path of -the road rising to a rather abrupt hill. Rising and -peeping over, I saw a long procession of creeping -things, their ears just shining above the hill we -were both ascending.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Halt! Stop!" I cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was too late, everlastingly too late! We were -meeting a negro funeral procession, that of good -old Uncle Thomas, as good an old time darky -as ever lived. I had known him well, a fellow -of infinite jest. But I did not recognize him -promptly now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I hate to write what followed. I felt faint and sick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Be it known that every negro loves to be buried -behind white mules. It is his glory and his -religion. This kind was hauling Uncle Thomas. -Now, a white mule is an old mule, and the older -the mule, the bigger the fool, and when they -peeped over the top of that hill, only to butt into -a goggle-eyed demon, they did what mules always -do. When I first saw them I was looking at the -north end of that negro hearse. The next -instant I was looking at the south end. And as -the thing turned over once to adjust itself to -different direction, a venerable old darkey shot out -of the rear end of that hearse, followed by a -two-dollar coffin, and everything in that two miles of -vehicles turned tail at the same time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I jumped out, grabbing my hunting coat, which -I knew held a flask of whiskey, and rushed -pell-mell through the woods for the creek bank. All -I wanted was a little water in that whiskey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After satisfying myself I would not faint, I went -back in time to see that everything had been fixed -and the procession headed north again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sah, it didn't hurt Brer Thomas," the -preacher was explaining to Horace; "but it did -upsot some of the sisterin, an' they fainted when -he come outer the back end of that kerridge so -nachul an' briefly. No, sah; nobody's hurt, sah; -it wuz jes' a sivigerus accerdent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much money have you, Horace? I've -spent all mine on dead and registered cats," I said, -bitterly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had plenty, and tipped the whole two miles -of them, as they passed by, singing: "</span><em class="italics">Jordan is a -hard road to travel.</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never had that old song seemed so real to me!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I stop right here," I said, after assuring -myself that I would not faint again. "The sun is -setting; we've been out all day, and found nothing -but a cat and a corpse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our experience had taken our nerve, and we -waited two hours by the roadside, way after -dark, until we'd seen everything we met in the -morning go back home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then we lit up, and reached home at ten o'clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise and the twins met me at the gate, scared -to death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So glad you're safe," she cried, kissing me. -"I know you've got a full bag, you've never -failed, and, oh, dearie, I've invited a dozen ladies -over to-morrow for lunch, promising quail on -toast, so I hope nothing has happened."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time one of the twins was climbing -over me, shouting, "Daddy, show me old Bob -White—show me old Brer Rabbit." And the -other echoed, "Daddy, show me old Bob -White—show me old Brer Rabbit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bitterness of it went into me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quail on toast?" I cried with sarcasm. -"Change it now, my dear; write them all a note -at once and tell them tomcat is better, for that's -all I've killed to-day! Just make it tomcat on -toast!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eloise looked at me curiously. "Jack, I -believe you have taken one of those cheap drinks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One?" I said. "I drank a flask of it. I -had to or faint when I saw poor old Uncle Thomas -come out of the rear end of that hearse as natural -as life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Eloise, putting her fingers in her -ears. "Come in, dearie, and I'll give you -another, poor dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was rubbed in on me that night. It was -midnight when Eloise came to my room. I heard -one of the twins crying. "Come here, Jack," she -said laughing. "One of them wants you, has -waked up crying for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was sitting up in bed and her lamentations -were loud. At sight of me she broke out, -"Daddy—you brought sister a dead cat -and—and—wouldn't—bring me—me—one!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To jolly her into good humor, as I often did, -I picked her up and turned her a somersault in -the bed: I was unfortunate again—that accursed -cat and automobile!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Accidentally her head was bumped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In blazing indignation, she sat up and spat -upon me!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I retreated as best I could: "Your mother will -spank you for that"—I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She quieted—ashamed: but almost instantly -the other one sat up in bed, crying lustily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> want?" I said. "I thought -you were asleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tum back here," she wailed heart-brokenly, -"</span><em class="italics">and let me spit on you too!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard Eloise laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang an automobile and a dead cat," I said, -as I went out—"they are two Jonahs that will -always smell alike to me hereafter!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-sick-tree"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE SICK TREE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The going of my old grandsire was pathetic, -for towards the last he lost interest in the living, -in everything except the great elm he had always -loved because his mother had nursed him under it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it is dying, Jack, just as I am going; -but I do so want it to live until I am gone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It shall, Grandfather," I said, "it is sick, but -with a little surgery I can save it. It shall live -twenty years longer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old tree, tall and beautiful even in death, -was half rotted as it stood. Any violent wind -was likely to snap it off. Any great storm would -beat it to the earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every morning the old man would rise and look -first of all to see if his tree was still standing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was greatly interested in the way I cured it. -I cut away the dead rot up the entire trunk; and -when I had finished, little, except a shell, -remained. Into this I drove a section of iron -railing from a railway track, fully fifteen feet high, -driven five feet into the ground, down among the -old roots of the tree. Around this and entirely -filling the hollow to the top of the iron rail, I -poured cement, casing it in to fit the old body that -was gone, tucking sheets of zinc under the edges -of the bark whose layers carry the sap up and down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When this was painted and treated to a coating -of tar, it looked like the great tree in its youth, -and under a strong wind it swayed, supported by -the cement and its rod of steel, with all the -strength of its younger days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There one evening, clasping it in the twilight, -we found the old General asleep. It was the last -sleep of a second childhood, and having no mother -for the lullaby, he had slept, his arms around the -tree she had loved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sun had set; the twilight had come; the -great trees shadowed the eternal hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old warrior had died a tree-lover; the -young tree-lover had been forced, of God, to fight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We plan, and, like the rough ashlar, we cut -and hew; but the Sculptor is God....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I do not know why Eloise should have risked -it, but she did; and though I would not have her -try it again for The Home Stretch nor feel again -that memory-pang of horror when, for one brief -second, I saw what she meant to do, yet when it -was done my heart beat fiercely with pride and -love for her. How blessed are those children -who have a mother both brave and beautiful!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We had ridden to town one day, as we often -did when the weather was fit. And for a -pretense she had me ride out to the Fair Grounds to -see a new colt in training. I suspect she had fixed -it all before; for I had seen her practicing Satan -on nearly every little ride, at jumps, stone walls, -mainly, and old rail fences up to four feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it's just to see if age and the campaigns -of honorable war," she laughed, "have stiffened -the old fellow's muscles or softened his heart"; -and she would reach over and pat his great neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the track the old bars stood across.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I sickened at the sight of them, remembering. -But Eloise, pretending not to notice, glanced -quickly at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's put them back there?" I asked, paling -with fear of my own suspicion. "I'll tear -them down now and burn them," I said, -dismounting quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Eloise was too quick for me. Even Satan -knew her thought and at the sound of her bantering -laugh and the old sideway flash of the whip -above his ears, he flew like a winged horse at the -bars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did not breathe, when, for one short, awful -moment, I saw them mount straight up toward -the sky. Then, realizing that age and service had -hampered his driving power behind, the game -horse threw his front easily over, and like a great -see-saw swung across, bringing his rear limbs, not -straight, to tap the bars and be tangled, but -sidewise and parallel, barely saving his neck!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I did it!" She rode up laughing, -Satan trembling so with excitement and the effort -I could see his knees quivering, his flank fluttering -wildly. And in Eloise's face there was the -white flag of peril yet lingering before the red -of victory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rode up close to me, her eyes lit with the -tenderness of love's light, and bedewed with its -tears: "</span><em class="italics">Kiss me, Jack, dearest—for that is -what I had sworn all the time I would do. If—if -they had only let me break the world's record -that first time.</em><span>"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE END</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>JACK BALLINGTON, FORESTER</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45652"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45652</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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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